Old Lessons, New Shirts

Brain cancer is...

...needing to re-learn old lessons.

The Guillaume house never slumbers deeply, but this morning Darrell woke up after an especially restless night.  He was worried about the day's dentist appointment, his first since diagnosis.  I knew he was worried yesterday, and, as per usual, I rubbed the fuzzy, exposed part of his head in solidarity.  (He's been worried about the dentist for 32 years.) 

But this morning, when I asked what worried him most, he told me two things:

• Would they treat him despite his scary tinfoil hat?
• Would he have to disrupt his Optune treatment because of mandatory dental x-rays?

I shed a few tears because these concerns were so easy to fix.  I called the dentist, told them to get ready for the awesomeness of tinfoil hats, refused the scheduled x-rays, and asked for a chair in the exam room for me.  If I had asked that question, "What worries you most?" yesterday instead of just rubbing his fuzzy head, I could have bought him some more sleep.

So I learned that old lesson again:  I need to listen, then ask another question, and be ready to help.  A small thing on my part can be a helpful thing to my loved ones. 

All's well that ends well, though.  Our dentist, Rex, and our hygienist, Marianne, were fabulously understanding, as per usual.

Yes, Rex discovered the cool guy bald look before we did. 

The day continued to brighten as we spent the afternoon with my Mom...in our snazzy new matching Hawaiian shirts, complete with Route 66 travel motifs:

If you're going to choose a mom, choose one who has great ideas and who sews.