We've been having a fun couple of days at home. Doing normal things like running errands and going to the park and out to lunch. It's just so nice to see Nate feeling more like his normal goofy, ornery self. He had a clinic appointment this afternoon to check his blood and electrolyte counts and talk about starting chemo. He is due to start on Saturday, but I wasn't sure if they do hospital admissions on Saturdays, so I was anxious to find out when they would admit him.
The nurse came in to draw his blood and said she she was only going to change one of his line caps because he was being admitted and they could change the other one in the hospital. HOLD THE PHONE!! Being admitted?!? You mean, like tomorrow, right?!? No...they had him listed to be admitted TODAY! What the heck! No...one...told...me...this! I tried to quiet the screaming in my head and calmly explained that we were absolutely not prepared to be admitted today. Not mentally, emotionally or physically. They were very good, apologized that no one explained this to me and quickly changed the plan.
He got all the blood work done that he needed to be admitted. They were going to send all the orders over and have the hospital call us tomorrow (Friday) when they have a bed open, then we will go right to admitting. They also assured me that they will be able to start chemo on Friday, because I didn't want Nate to be admitted to the hospital on Friday just to sit around and wait for chemo to start on Saturday. The good news is that this round is exactly 72 hours of infusions, so Nate should be able to come home some time on Monday. Please pray that this round will be as easy on him as possible. Realistically, this could be another rough one, but we know that Super Nate is capable of anything.
Here's a strong wish that round 4 goes as smoothly as possible for all of you.
ReplyDeleteSincerely,
Mary Waters
Beth,
ReplyDeleteDespite the fact that we have never met, following your blog has allowed me to know your family if only because of Nate's illness. Our paths crossing has been a blessing. Last week I underwent a double mastectomy. At 41 with a 5 month old, this was not an easy decision nor experience. But, at the preop session at the hospital where I was injected with radiation and laying on a small bed in a freezing room with an ominous camera so close to me I hyperventilated, I thought of your Nate. I reminded myself of all that he has endured during his illness. The endless invasive tests, the pokes that he is told will sting, but actually hurt enough to cry, the pain caused from the poison meant to cure him... the surgeries. And I managed to get through my fear while alone in those rooms in the hospital, thinking of your brave little boy. I stopped shaking, I held back my tears, and I breathed slowly and deliberately,knowing that if Nate could get through all of his horrible shit and still want to play and see good in some of this that I was going to be ok. Please hug your son for me. And thank him for his courage and bravery. He enabled me to endure more than I ever thought I could. Thank you.
Cristina