control

When I did chemotherapy five years ago, I discovered a fair bit about myself. Chief among those revelations? I have control issues.

I also discovered a fair bit about what happens when one person in the family is really sick. Things snowball, fall apart, fray at the edges. In other words, all the control issues in the world couldn’t stop Zoe from getting ear infection after ear infection. Couldn’t keep me from getting every side effect listed on the handouts. Couldn’t keep the “just one more freakin’ thing” from happening every time we turned around.

So perhaps that lack-of-control experience, which culminated in the swan dive I took off our garage steps (cringe if you remember), has made me a bit over-zealous in the control department with the chemo I’m doing now.

But only perhaps.

On Wednesday night, Daisy came in from the back yard and I noticed a small perfectly round circle of missing fur on her back. I went to bed.

As I lay there, that circle of missing fur started to bug me. So what did I do? Consult the internet. Not a wise thing to do since the Voice of Reason I married was out at a movie.

Looked like the old dog had gotten ringworm. Which is NOT A PARASITE (whew) but a fungus (yuck) and not contagious much unless you have a compromised immune system. Well, I’ve got one of those, I told myself, so I better kick this potential fungus out.

This meant calling the vet, the carpet cleaners, and alerting my cleaning lady (who is the bomb), and brainstorming potential people I could ask to take Daisy if she needed to be away from my during her fight against the fungus. After school I went the oncologist, picked up Zoe from her friend’s house, sped off to the vet–all while the calm Voice of Reason was in Kalamazoo having a much needed visit with his best friend.

By the time Mark got home, the house was ready for full attack the potential fungus mode. Including this icing on the cake: Daisy must wear a t-shirt so that I don’t accidentally touch the small spot (boarding not needed-whew). Though we won’t know what it actually is until Monday, this little fungi has no chance of survival.

The house is spotless down to every linen. The carpet is clean. Daisy is clothed.

And, oh that control, it does feel darn good sometimes. Daisy might not agree.