The Pot Rack

I mentioned in my last entry that I've offered Jim several superficial incentives for beating the cancer. One being a pot rack. Since we did the addition on our house, Jim's been desperate for a pot rack. He's wanted a pot rack since we lived in Atlanta, but the new kitchen in Atlanta didn't warrant a pot rack either.

Admittedly, this kitchen doesn't have much cabinet space. But aesthetically, the kitchen cannot handle a pot rack. It's a small space. I fear that a pot rack would bring the ceiling down so low that people might feel they have to duck.

The pot rack has been under negotiations since last February. Here's how the negotiations typically go:
Jim: I think we need a pot rack there.
Me: No.

Jim: Why not?
Me: It won't fit.

Jim: I think a pot rack would look nice.
Me: No.

Jim: We need the space.
Me: I don't care.

Jim: I want a pot rack.
Me: No. And it would cover the light.

Jim: I can put in can lights that shine through the pot rack.
Me: No.

Jim: I want a pot rack.
Me: No.

So here's my declaration for all to see - Jim: beat the cancer. The moment we hear "No Evidence of Disease" we can drive down to Milwaukee and buy you a pot rack. You can choose the pot rack of your dreams. You can buy a Cadillac pot rack.

Jim had chemo today. He was there for a long, long time today. Every time he gets chemo, they have to make sure that they have the ability to draw blood from his port. Lo and behold, they couldn't get a blood draw today. Sometimes a "flap" of blood can develop over the port hose that goes into his vein. So they have to administer meds to break up that flap.

Jim was very tired today. He slept through almost the entire chemo session, despite the fact that he was armed with a movie that his friend Stephanie sent him (Wedding Crashers - he hasn't seen it yet). It takes a lot to gear up mentally for chemo. A lot of the patients sleep while receiving chemo. It must take a lot out of them. Often the nurses administer an anti-nausea medication that also acts as a sedative. So the mental exhaustion coupled with an anti-nausea med really does a job on the patients. I guess it can be a good thing, since most of them are there almost all day getting their chemo.

At least I know I'll have my kitchen pot rack-free for another month or so.