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Nothing breaks up a conversation like your eight year old running in saying, “Mom, Mom! Dad needs you to come home right now, it’s an emergency!”
We are ok. We are all ok.
But I have no idea who I was talking to at the neighborhood gathering, I just left and I ran.
That’s what cancer does.
With Rico’s neutropenia, he wasn’t able to attend the neighbor’s birthday bash with us, even though he lives for that kind of thing, food, friends, laughter, endless telling of endless stories. But the risk of infection is too great right now, so Tiny and I headed across the street for an hour, while Rico hung out at home, waiting for us to bring back a piece of cake.
Tiny met up with some friends while I caught up with the neighbors and the girls asked if they could head back to our house to jump on the trampoline. Rico was home, so I send them on their way. Fifteen minutes later they were back.
“It’s an emergency.”
The funny thing, is that Rico never told her that. He told her to get mom, because he neede…

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