1,071

One thousand seventy-one days of treatment.
1071 days of cancer's intrusion into our family.
1071 days of meticulous poison.
1071 days of central access catheters.
1071 days of the girls playing second and third fiddle.
1071 days of prayers.
1071 days of outpourings of love.
1071 days of scrubbing your hands like his life depends on it.
1071 days of keeping loved ones at arm's distance.
1071 days of watching for, fearing, fevers.
1071 days of squeezing each other's hands.
1071 days of kissing our girls goodnight.  At least one of us.
1071 days of kissing William while he sleeps.  At least one of us.
1071 days of unthankable help from family, and friends.
1071 days of doctors.
1071 days of the smell of chemo in our nostrils.
1071 days of teaching ourselves to be germophobes.
1071 days of reassuring smiles.
1071 days in an exclusive club no one wants to be a member of.
1071 days of second guessing.
1071 days of counting.
1071 days of fear.
1071 days of compartmentalizing.
1071 days on the prayer roll.
1071 days with things we can't think about.
1071 days of things we can't say.
1071 days of uncertainty.
1071 days without trusting plans.

612 doses of Septra.  Twice a day, two days a week.

152 Mondays.  Most of them in the hospital.

15,360 slimfold paper towels.

700 nitrile gloves for chemo at home.

15 birthdays.

1071 nights.
Well, I guess now it is 1072.