Day 3

This morning I let my body lay still. For just a little more longer than ever. Especially during these days. And who am I to complain of aches. And fatigue, when my son is fighting every second of every day. He's fighting a broken spirit. Last night before I left and began packing the exchange blankies beanies, and his favorite socks, he started talking a bit more. He's on his phone when he's not sleeping or doped from morphine. At one point I watched him squint like I do trying to read the screen of his phone. Mine from old eye sight, his from meds. He's beyond puffy. I applied a cortisone to his face, ears and back. All of which itch beyond what we can understand. His ears puffy from the fever he was running. Asking me "mama be super soft it hurts so bad". His pimples hurt. His legs itch. His private parts hurt. I applied two different types. Both he said helped. His frail body sitting up as I continued on because I felt like human touch is therapeutic too. Just waiting for him to say...enough. He was burning up. The nurses, and lab came in. When they become Neutrapenic (fever while no counts) they must take a certain type of lab. They look like teeny tiny liquor bottles you buy for flights, or concerts..or if you're like Bill and I we sneak them into concerts because we're tight asses.
They also take from his other arm just in case fever is coming from infected port side. They cover all the bases. Meanwhile, it's when I take a seat. Or begin to clean and organize his room. I have a hard time seeing his blood.
He then had me go check with the nurse to see if HE could apply the creams to his nuttys.
He. Is. Miserable.
Soon, he does what he does and asks me if the room seems hot. And my reply as always.."yes, totally honey"-- it's not. But his fever is trying to break, and the same goes when he tells me it's too cold, and I agree again. One thing about Kris, he views your face for assuring measure.
I never want him to panic when I know his body is just doing what it knows to do. Fight.
His platelets are dropping fast now. I've been worried more about those fellers most. No platelets mean if he bleeds, inside or out. No stopping it. And that's scary.
Transfusions will begin this weekend and week. More fevers will creep into the picture.
More pain in his mouth that looks like hamburger meat. Lips that are blackened like fried from the worse sunburn.
Radiation is a motherfucker. But it's the only hope to kill any old Kris marrow, allowing new young German dude stems to grow, and hopefully produce new blood.
This will START to take place in about 12-14 more days.

When I left last night he looked sad. I know he wanted me to stay, but from what I thought Jen was on her way. I was exhausted. He looked like he could sleep, but really just likes us there. Jen more so but mama coming in close.
I checked in with the nurse who was buttoning up her shift at 7. Let her know he's alone. Fever seemed to be breaking. My stack of blankies, beanies and a bag of poopy unders...a sincere thank you to Stacy whom I think is the best kick ass nurse he's EVER had. She will get lots of praise and gracious thanks and recognition from our family when we button up this stay at City Of Hope.
An amazing place you guys.  They are on it there. Their speciality to bring someone so close to death, and delicately bring them back up.

Right now, we are in the eye of the storm. I'm restless and nervous mostly. My heart sinks at the first view of him when I get there. It's hard. To watch your son so strong become so weak and so sick.
Hard.

Bill and I are heading back right now. I'm recharged. I'm full of clean everything he needs and likes. Pillow cases are the thing right now. And the smell of clean beanies, only if no fever. He's beet red.
And itchy.

We got this. I got this.

From your love. All our friendships and fellow parent warriors behind us. Behind my boy.

We got this.

Day 3. Cover my baby with comfort and love. Cover him with peace, and the memories of the great
Ocean to which someday he can get back out on...

Love and peace to you all,

This mama warrior Lisa

Ps. Kris, you make mama proud. Your side smile and dimple yesterday when I started to cry because I am so sorry you are going through this, heals my heart.
Til my last breath Bubby.