Another cancer update, y’all. I have not had time for my own research–because, when you put close to 1,000 geeks in one place, the wireless goes kerflooey–so I do not purport to know what any of this means yet.

Although I’m guessing it ain’t good.

Mom’s chemo is stalled. She had one big fat treatment almost a week ago, and, when she went in for this week’s less fat treatment, they found that her platelets had dropped…dramatically. Her count usually hovers between 149,000 and 155,000. She was supposed to have at least 100,000 for the chemo to continue, but her count came back at 37,000.

A drop was anticipated, because that’s one of the things chemo does. But this was big and fast.

Kind of like lung cancer.

ChemoDoc reportedly thinks the chemo drugs are “butting heads” with the leftover radiation in her system–sort of a battle royale over which can kill the most cells. So she’s waiting for the next blood draw. If she’s still low, they’ll start talking about transfusions before they talk about any more chemo.

She’s really tired, but says that’s about it. I wonder that ChemoDoc didn’t tell her to cut back on work, considering her colorful history of snipping her knuckles in the course of a workday. She’s even got nerve damage in a couple of them–she won’t know she’s clipped them until she turns some poor old woman’s hair pink.

So that’s where we are. I imagine the results of the next blood draw and my next conversation with ChemoDoc will determine what my schedule looks like in July.

And because there isn’t enough cancer in this world, my Bean’s daddy is under attack again by the cancer he has beaten back time after time. He’s one of the strongest men I’ve ever known and he has fought so bravely for so long…if anyone deserves a break, a cure, a miracle, it is this tall, blond force of nature who dumped a cooler of ice over our friend, helped me move, and walked his baby girl down the aisle.

Dear God: The Bean and I really, really hate cancer. Please help us deal with that. Amen.