Of Blood and Baseballs and Bubble Wrap

It’s been a while since I wrote!

Because of Chase’s second line infection, “the powers that be” decided to hold all chemo until the antibiotic finished, thereby giving Chase his largest break from chemo since March.  Almost four whole weeks in-between cycles!

We were able to do some fun things with him and we also had a new experience: his blood counts dropped significantly after he’d recovered from chemo.  They bumped back to “normal” after a transfusion, but it made us realize that our dream -that he will finish his chemo, grow his hair back, pink his skin up, and never again be in the hospital except for scans- may be slightly…okay, very flawed.  Having his counts drop was just a momentary reiteration that Chase is sick and he’s been through hell and back in treatments and that is not going to go away overnight…and possibly not ever.  God, give us strength to handle that time when we get there.

A comical sidenote from his transfusion:  I am becoming more and more convinced that central line pieces were not designed for active three-year olds.  In typical Chase fashion, he was so active as he was receiving his packed red blood cells that the pressure cap on the end of his line loosened, dousing his shirt, shorts, and the bed in bright red blood.  He saw it and started screaming “Blood! Blood!” which, of course, brought almost every nurse in the infusion center running into his room.  He was completely fine.  In fact, he went on to make friends with a little girl in the playroom who he named “Girl“, and when he was discharged, he went to find her, crossed his ankles, put his hands on his hips and said: “Girl? Girl! I have a problem. I have to go home now, but you will be alright. Okay?”  Just a couple of the many, many moments in which we find ourselves shrugging, smiling, and saying “It’s Chase” when we’re at the hospital.

With his counts finally recovered and antibiotics complete, he restarted chemo on Monday and was in the hospital for three days, in which time, he managed to stay central line issue-free, but felt the need to allocate world-class neuro specialists for things other than cancer…like taking a header out of the hospital bed.  He was deemed “stable” enough to be brought home, but he has a large “squishy” section to his head (he calls it his “squishy baseball“) and we are to call his doctors immediately if there is the slightest change to his condition.  So, we watch, above and beyond, almost bordering on stalking him, and actively resist the urge to bubble wrap him as he attempts to play with his siblings in the backyard.

At this moment, our hope and prayer is to get him through the weekend without needing to run to the ER for any reason.  And as these stories show, we often go from weeping to laughing to feeling overwhelmed and back again…sometimes all three at once, which is why we are taking the days…

Moment by moment.