Midwestern Contraband

Yes, we got to see Eliza, and it was wonderful. Yes, we stayed with Susan, and it was wonderful. But I knew the trip wouldn't be complete for Carol until we returned with a box of Malt-o-Meal, a seminal part of her Iowa childhood. Considering the trouble we had getting Lake Champlain hot chocolate mix on the Minnesota-bound plane, I wasn't all that certain about the Malt-o-Meal going the other way. But no one batted an eye. I guess that's the difference between a canister and a box. Or maybe Midwesterners are always trying to bring a piece of their childhoods back East with them, and the TSA agents know nostalgia when it shows up on the scanner.

Carol was very happy to have had the weekend with Eliza, and more so because she was feeling so ... normal. By the end of her two-week treatment hiatus, she remarked how good it felt to be active in life, to be doing things because she wanted to do them and not just because she had to do them. Yesterday, she returned to the grind. She's resumed treatment, heading back tomorrow to have the pump taken off. We're all hoping that this modified regimen will be less toxic to her, giving her more time between treatments to feel as good as she can.

Thanks for all of the comfort you bring to both of us. We carry it with us always, and it's even better that we don't have to risk being stopped at security.