"Da, you gonna be able to walk me to school today?"
We're cuddled under a blanket on the sofa, her legs rests on mine, playing on her IPad while I try to keep up with the spinning room.
After a string of feeling good for several days on end, yesterday's Chemo cocktail brought them crashing on our living room floor, where I lay after throwing up, night sweats pouring from my body and I have vertigo.
Vertigo's a recent addition to my bodily experience.
Somehow, I don't know how, I get up, smoke a bowl and take a shower that won't stop spinning.
It was as wild as any Disney ride I'd ever taken but I managed to dress myself without waking Sarah.
Che wakes as soon as I collapse on the sofa and, thankfully, excitedly rushes to me, grabbing her IPad as she comes.
It only takes her a few moments to comprehend that I'm not feeling good.
"I'll always take care of you Da," she tells me, laying on top of me, under the blanket.
"Of course I'm walking you to school," I reply, hugging her.
Sarah's floats in the room, dressed beautifully, re-calculating her day, scheduling back up if I'm unable to pick Che up from school as she's got work meetings all afternoon.
She does all the things I do in the mornings in addition to what she already does.
I seem to be unable to move.
Time flies and it's time to go.
Sarah guides me as I lean on her for balance walking Che to school.
Che holds my other hand.
They're being careful.
I am tripping.
"He has vertigo, Sarah explains to questioning stares from other parents.
"Oh," one quickly replies, "you look like you're in love."
"Love you," Che exclaims, suddenly spinning herself around, arms outstretched, to hug us both. Then she kisses Sarah, kisses me, turns and makes a mad rush to join her friends.
Sarah guides me home in the bright morning sunshine, neighbors rushing to their cars wish us a "Good Day" or "Feel better".
My world keeps on spinning and it's still quite the trip.
