What Parents Never Like To Hear

Last night we heard one of those phrases that totally ruins a night:  "I just threw up in my bed."  It's bad enough when they wake you to tell you they threw up at all, but to mention that it was in bed... I just feel like lying there and hoping it's a bad dream or that if I feign sleep the child will go away and clean the mess without me, or maybe Mom will take pity on me and take one for the team (OK, we always take care of these as a team).  This was one of those where the smell was totally overpowering.  Uggh.  Enough detail.

Half Way There

Friday we officially finished the second round of chemotherapy.  J went back into clinic to have another dose given through a spinal tap.  We like to think we are learning.   J was not allowed to eat anything this time (last time he ate breakfast, whoops).  He let us know that he was quite hungry all morning.  While he was asleep for the treatment they took out the remaining staples in his belly incision.

Arrow of Light

Thursday night we made it to the Blue and Gold Banquet with one of the local Cub Scout Packs.  Our church usually charters a Boy Scout Troop and a Cub Scout Pack, but when we returned from fellowship, there was not an active Cub Scout Pack with our church, so we found this one that a few of the boys from our church were already attending.  It was a great experience.  Good boys in the pack and great leaders for the boys.

So Nice To Be Home

We did it.  We made it home.  Tomorrow we return to clinic to get a dose of chemotherapy with a spinal tap, and taper down the steroids and we are officially half way finished with chemotherapy.  It seems odd that we could actually be half way finished, but that's where we are.  I will mention, there is a chance that things have not responded as well as hoped, and that we would need to add two more cycles of chemotherapy, which would mean we are only 1/3 of the way through.  Rather not have to go there, but it's a possibility.

The injections to encourage his bone marrow to start producing white blood cells begins tomorrow.  It  is such an uncertain time when he is so susceptible to infection.  It is so unpredictable.  And after having such a bad infection last time, it's hard to have any amount of confidence that things will be just fine.  We would love for them to be just fine and have no excitement.  We will see.  Here's hoping and praying.

A Bit From The Man of the Hour

A little question and answer with J.  Remember, he's 11.  This interview took place with me sitting on the couch and him sitting in the chair.  I was doing this to pass the time while he was trying to decide to take the pills.  They are crushed up into powder and placed into gel capsules, so that he can't taste them, but he still doesn't take them very easily.  Imagine a little bit of whining in the voice, and you've probably got it right.

The Colorful World of Chemotherapy

Before you click to open the entire post, I have posted pictures that aren't truly disgusting, but everyone may not enjoy.  Not the so disgusting that you may want to pass out type of disgusting.  That being said, people who pick medical careers often find bodily fluids more interesting than the general population.  We casually talk about bodily functions at times that others find socially unacceptable, such as over dinner.  So I'll write about the day, and then you can decide if you want to open the rest of the post and see the pictures (I'll warn you, the build-up is more exciting than the picture).

J had his first dose of chemotherapy for this cycle yesterday afternoon.  His drug was methotrexate.  Since I was sick the last time he was having chemotherapy, this is all new for me.  Methotrexate has a nice greenish hue.  You can see through it. You may be tempted to call it "witch's brew" or "toxic waste", but I would be offended if you thought it was radioactive.  The methotrexate ran for about four hours Sunday afternoon.  During the treatment J played games with a friend.  They played "Liar's Dice", "Battleship" and "Head's Up".  What is it that enables him to carry on fairly normally, even while getting dosed with such awful medicines?  Zofran.  Miracle drug there.  The oncologists have repeatedly said that if he's sick and miserable, they are not doing their job, because we can treat the awful side effects, and it's working.

This morning he couldn't eat until he had his spinal tap for another dose of chemotherapy through his back.  We thought it would be nothing to eat until the treatment was done at 9 am.  Then we found out it would be at 1 pm.  And he would remain without food until then.  Poor guy.  The spinal tap happened without trouble, they even removed some staples from his incision, and then he was back for more chemotherapy.  This was doxorubicin.  It's red.  Almost looks like blood, but you can see through it and it's a little brighter of a color.  J did great with that as well.

Detour Over

I am happy to report that we are back in the hospital!  That may sound bad, but we are now back on course with the treatment.  I'll take it.  Enough detours.  No more scenic routes.  No more being the exciting medical case.  Let's just get in, get it done, and get out.