You know your a parent of a kid with cancer when... 

 

1. Kids with hair look kind of strange to you

2. Your pockets, purse, and other nooks and crannies are full of sanitizing wipes

3. Waterproof mascara becomes a necessity...

4. ..then mascara and any other make-up becomes something of the past

5. You can sleep anywhere, and anything that reclines more than 15 degrees looks "comfy"

6. You don't realize the Sharps container is on the kitchen table until half-way through dinner

8. Your kid could give you precise directions on how to get to the hospital

9. You do your hair and your Oncologist doesn't recognize you

10. You hear a truck back up and you think the IV is beeping

11. You are so proud when your baby finally gets hair and he's 5 years old!

12. Your IV supplier knows the way to your house without directions

13. Your child bumps his knee and says "I should probably get a CT scan or x-ray" instead of a wanting a     bandaid

14. You can maneuver a double IV pole while pushing a kid in a little tykes car on a tour of the cancer ward, and make it back to the room before the low-battery alarm sounds and the kid has to pee.

15. The nurses stop responding to the IV alarm knowing you'll fix it

16. Your 5 year old holds completely still while his arm is getting squeezed to death by the blood pressure cuff

17. You child's daily conversations include "leukemia" "cancer" and "chemo"

18. Your 5 year old knows where all the medical equipment goes, and how to use it

19. You can eat with one hand while you hold the barf bucket with the other

20. You keep a bag packed at all times like your 9 1/2 months pregnant

21. Your child knows how to access, flush and withdrawl heparin from his line better than writing his ABCs

22. The pharmacy techs ask you how to spell that medication, again

23. The pharmacy tech says, "your 7 day medication (that they pronounce wrong) will cost $700, there isn't a generic form, do you still want me to order that?" You don't blink an eye and say, "of course."  

25. There are four new Mercedes in the doctors' parking lot due to your child's payments

26. You can communicate with your family practitioner in medical lingo

27. You take two dressing change kits everywhere you go

28. You can read the blood work reports better than your nurse

29. You have more meds in your cupboard than food

30. You have more IV meds in your fridge than food

31. You decorate the green chemo masks with silly faces

32. None of the security in the hospital ask you for your ID anymore

33. Your main source of nutrition comes from Tylenol and Diet Coke

34. You wrap your son's birthday presents with medical tape

35. Your child is more familiar with CT scanners and MRIs than a classroom

36. You don't have to ask, "What's that mean" to the previous 35 items

37. You know that the CBC results will either make or break you

38. You hear yourself say, "I'll buy you anything you want" at least once a day

40. You really think this list is funny, when most normal people either don't get it or start to cry

41. When a Radio Flyer wagon is considered an essential transportation device

43. When her ANC is something that determines how well your day is going to be

44. You make new friends, in your pajamas, hair askew, at a breakfast cart

45. When people stare at your child and ask if they are a boy or a girl

46. Your kid takes more medications than your grandma

47. You can reset the IV meds overnight, in your sleep, every 30 minutes without waking up once and still call it a good nights sleep

48. The "CK" on your tee shirt stands for Chemo Kid, not Calvin Klein

50. When every little thing can make you cry

52. You spend most conversations telling people, "it's okay" when really you want to shout out that you hurt really badly inside

53. When your child has to get another poke and screams for the "sleepy medicine"

54. You can make a variety of arts and crafts out of hospital supplies

56. When the doctor finally enters your room and finds you and your child with latex glove powder around your mouth from blowing up the gloves

57. When it's time for your 5 year old to have his vital signs taken and he lifts his arm and sticks out his foot without crying or fighting

58. You have a collection of pink "throw-up-buckets" in every room of your house

59. You think that root beer and Cheetos is a "nutritious meal" because it's all he'll eat

60. Your reading materials consist of insurance statements and bills

61. Your sons hair finally grows back and no one in the cancer ward recognizes him anymore

62. When your bookshelves have more childhood cancer books than potty books

63. You have forgotten how to cook because you spent the last year eating in a cafeteria and having meals brought to your home by kind neighbors

64. A bag of blood is a refreshing and happy sight

66. You wish there was as much GOLD as there is PINK

68. You celebrate when your 5 year old can walk from one side of the room to the other without being exhausted or crying out it pain

69. You have to explain to your kid that cancer is not something every child usually deals with

(I took this from another cancer blog but switched alittle around to fit us)