Day 18

It's so strange to type that. For some reason in the beginning days I felt like day 20 or 30 or even 10 was like ions away.
I've worked extremely hard on his room. And we doing so, keeping in mind dust. Mold. Bedding. Comfort. Darkness.
This morning we worked on little details of his tv and cable.
Kali packed her bags, and freshly washed linens to head home. My sadness wasn't near as it was last week because all I could think of is her driving home in this storm. The typical shift in life. One worry to the other. As I type this I await her text "Made it".

On my drive to the hospital today I passed 4 accidents. Not sure why people still drive like assholes when it's clear the roads aren't in good conditions and the water pools on each side, and Mr. Racer guy in his little Fiat swings in and out...slamming the brakes or hydroplaning creating havoc for all.
Rain+California Drivers = Scary.
Major grateful-ness to our police, ambulance and paramedics. Seriously.

Today's topic when I arrived was how come he was never told about the 100 day mark. And how important the days leading up to it are. He said I never discussed this with him.
Where in fact, we all did discuss it. With those wonderful -NOT- social workers. Part of this treatment and chemo, and sickness have erased important things. That he was told. I was told.
He agreed with me. He said he just doesn't know how he's gonna stay put for 100 days. He must oblige with the rules. Or things can become fatal.

He must cover with UVA clothes for months and months. He can't do ANY outside food for months and months. He can't do crowds. He can't leave without a mask. His hygiene will be in the finest tune.
Visitors are limited, and will be asked to be respectful in not coming over if sick, or have a sick
family member. We especially can't be around anyone fresh off a plane.

He will make visits back here in the beginning days for labs. And a couple of spinal biopsies.

His demeanor today is good. Spirits up. Bags are being eliminated by the day.
Looking at discharging as the beacon in this big ocean here.
We've learned the ropes here. Where to hide. Where to go sit and cry. Where to get the best juices. Where to get the hottest latte. Where to find the best nurses. Or at least exhaling when you see your favorite name posted on this dirty wall. We've become familiar with the parking. The front and back entrances. The freeway. The familiar faces walking hallways. People that work here. Either saving lives with scopes around their necks, or pushing carts cleaning these room cleaning germs. And trashes. Assistants that take his vitals all day every days, reporting blood pressure and temps.
They all have a duty.
To save a life.


In each room.
Food service workers approach his room in suit and tie. Always verifying and smiling. Some have built a relationship with him. With us.

He mentioned today that he's forgotten some of the first weeks here. He has small memories of me sitting in this corner watching him. Or cleaning the puke bucket. He doesn't remember the nausea.
Ya, imagine him telling me this.
He doesn't remember some of the last radiations.

And I thank all the stars in the sky that his body has healed a part of his mind during the absolute worse days.
I keep thinking of the days of labor. Curled in a ball, until that baby is on your belly.



The rainbow you guys...it's getting close.

And I couldn't have done my journey day and night without some of my favorite friends.
Friends that filled my belly while I drove in and out of a storm.  Erica...Erica...........

Come on rainbow....we need you...
Kris deserves one. We all do.

Counts:

WBC 5.2
Hgb 12.3
Platelets 194
Cr. 0.63

A good analogy of his new body and new counts-
They are newborn white blood cells that don't have the ability to fight....quite yet.

Have a wonderful wet and cuddly Sunday...


This Warrior Mama Lisa