|Brotherly love...May 17, 2013|
The words of a dear song keep re-playing and re-playing on the turntable of my brain..."It must be winter in my heart...There's nothing warm in there at all." Although the robin sings atop the lilac bush outside my window even as I type...My heart is wintering this afternoon.
Spent yesterday at the Hospital with Adler. He's so sick Janey. So, so, sick. As he readied for bed Tuesday evening, I noticed he felt warm. By the time we celebrated our third "encore" of goodnights, he was down right fevering. We had been forewarned that if his fever was to reach 100.5 at any point during treatment, we would be admitted into the hospital as it would most likely be a sign that an infection was brewing and with "chemo counts," a fever can lead to a myriad of woes. I set Jamies cell phone alarm to wake me every Two hours during the night. I'd turn on our bedside lamp...the shadows of which became my trusted allies as I'd lay next to Addy and wait the Three minutes for the thermometer to reach its destination. 100.2 And there it perched... All night long. Somehow or another, the mornings just keep making their way to us. And with the arrival of morning so came the arrival of what we affectionately call the "pukes." Ugh. Double ugh. So, we called our oncologist who advised us to head in to be seen. Poor Adler... "And they roared their terrible roar and they gnashed their terrible teeth." Now, I understand Mr. Sendak...Now, I understand. How could I hope for anything but? He's miserable, he's tired, he feels defeated ....As do I.
The team ran a whole gaggle of tests including an ultrasound which showed an abnormal amount of fluid in Addys belly. Not sure what that means yet, or if it's even related to Addys symptoms. They filled Addy full of I.V. fluids (he had refused food or drink for the previous 20 hours or so and had lost a pound and a half in a day and a half...46 lbs), gave him a dose of anti-biotics, and allowed us to scoop our Addy bundle up and head home. Oh blessed home.
Addy is still fevering and "hollow." I've managed to get some grape juice in him today. As I loaded his tumbler into the dishwasher I marveled to think what a cause for celebration it has become to see my son drink Six ounces. I stood over my sink for a long while just re-tracing my "thought-steps." Hoping to remember where I had left them.
So my sweet Jane, that's where my wintry heart is resting today. Wondering where the next hours and days will lead us. I suppose that's a luxury not afforded to any of us...Cancer or not. So for today, for this hour, we'll chart our course Six sweet ounces at a time.
"He sailed off through the night
and day, and in and out of weeks
and almost over a year, to where
the wild things are."