Day 39, DI
Hard to believe we’ve been doing this for over a month.
The great thing about cancer is the spontaneity it provides to your life. Just because you have an appointment on Thursday does not mean that you will only be at the hospital those days.
So for the past two days we’ve been dealing with an up and down fever, pale lips, and some bruising.
Wheeee, and y’all thought that the only fun could be had at Disney. Forget about Space Mountain cancer is the ride of your life. So, I’ve been obsessively taking Isa’s temperature, monitoring the color in her lips and counting her bruises. Of course anything drastic that happens on the weekends must occur at the ER. And no, I’ve never seen anyone who remotely looks as good as George Clooney, Maura Tierney or Mekhi Phifer. So forget about it.
So far so good. We have not gone to the ER. Lucky for us, the crazy temperature is cooperating. BUT it looks like we might have to go for platelets tomorrow. Isa’s legs have bruises all over them. When looking over her last few Complete Blood Counts (CBC) compared with those in April when she took Ara-C for two weeks, I noticed that she had a HUMONGOUS drop in platelets. AND this time she didn’t have the same amount of room to drop. As in she was pretty screwed last time, this time she could have like NONE. The only way to tell is to draw blood, besides of course, looking for bruises and such.
The sucky thing is that Papa just removed her port today. If we go tomorrow she will have to be accessed and then accessed again on Thursday.
All of these things bring me around to two prevailing thoughts of the day.
- WTF, why couldn’t I have continued on my path without having to stop for leukemia?
- I hate making decisions, much less for some other person, even though that person is my daughter.
Today, I woke up feeling sorry for myself. So many people have it worse than we do, BUT there are more people out there who do NOT have kids with cancer. And I hate those people right now. Okay, I don’t really hate them, but I do wish that I was one of them.
And lucky for me, I plan ahead. Knowing my penchant for deferring to make decisions, on the way to the hospital on January 14, 2009, I told my husband that one of us needed 51%. Meaning, that in the case of a disagreement or an impasse the person with 51% had more say. He lovingly took it. Thank God!!! Now, I get to speak my mind, but he makes all final decisions. Is that old-fashioned? I think so, and it so rocks. And if anything goes wrong, I can blame him. What more could a woman want?
Throughout all of this, Isa seems to feel fine. No pain, no problems, she even played in the sandbox for some time today as well found time to write her blog.