Where was I?

Well, after letting steam out of the tea pot Sunday night, I woke refreshed on Monday. Our trek to City Of Hope easier than I thought. In the realm of getting him fed, dressed and into the car...peach.
Arriving there with no where to pull curbside to get him onto a bench to wait for me, another story.
As my Dad said, "don't fuss with the drop off grab a wheelchair and be done with it". Part of me still trying to let him get some strength in those legs, and walk. At least a teeny bit.

We'd get in, called pretty fast and soon he'd be getting labs drawn. Once labs are done it's the long stretch down an elevator to the doctors office. By the time we arrived to sit, he was exhausted.
Calling us back soon, his vitals showed stable. BP, weight(hadn't increased, OR decreased) and no fevers or rapid heart rate. Kris still suffers from some sort of post traumatic syndrome there. Something Bill and I have observed. His original doctor has been on leave and so we've come to know our doc. When our original doctor walked in, my heart was full, yet my soul was frustrated. The thing about this process and most important is the relationship you build. Things you like, and things you don't. Things the doctor begins to know about you. Personality. Physique. Attitude. Coloring. You get my drift, right?
So our doctor starts to question why he's so pale. Why he lost weight, and why his counts were so wonky. As I'm staring at the screen reminding her to refresh the page, it was still showing March 10th Counts. To which she chuckled. And I didn't.  *Welcome Back*...[insert rolling my eyes secretly] His counts on Thursday weren't the best. But had jumped a teeny bit. WBC up to 2.1 vs 1.8. Hemoglobin stable and platelets dropped substantially. She began to check his mouth asking how his hydration was. All fine. This dude ate more food all weekend than he has in three weeks. I cooked all huge homemade breakfasts', lunches and dinners.
What she couldn't see was the stature of Kris from Thursday to Monday.
She'd soon arrange for half a bag of hydration. And more to evaluate on his blood work.
Before doing so he made it to the bathroom to puke and almost pass out. Both of which needed to have some breathing to get through. Again, his soul is panicked by worry. [That bathroom ordeal was bigger than I'll share here for now, but on the way home I reminded him of a quote I read recently "If it isn't funny now, it will be in 5 years".

His nurse brings us the wheelchair, and we'd head up to hydration for a nice afternoon refresh taking only an hour. I made a couple important medical insurance phone calls for his prescriptions-----------------> remember me and those pharmacy techs mind wrestle over the most important meds more times than I'd like to admit.
And the one med (tacrolimus) that I've fought long and hard with Kaiser, to PLEASE keep it in stock...staying awake at night worrying they'll run out. It's what saves the lives in BMT.

Anyway, I digress. I get him home and as I'm pulling into the driveway I realize I should start his Passat, and his VW bus to keep the batteries charged. He nods, I get him tucked into bed, grab my phone just in case. As I'm starting the rumble fest bus I see the famous 626 area code. Quickly answering and I hear "Hi Mrs. Stahl, it's Dr. Farol" I quickly fire back.."Hey, we missed you today...what's up"! He laughed and apologized for not transitioning us correctly...etc. to soon tell me to NOT give Kris anymore Tacrolimus for a couple of days. The lab called HIM informing it's too high, and is probably the culprit on platelet drop.

I'd soon pick up the order that I so pushed them hard for. Reloaded his med tray for the week.
Checking it three sometimes four times.
Feeding him another smoothie. Filled with Real Vanilla Bean ICE cream and peanut butter, chocolate and organic frozen fruits, a banana and milk. He is an eating machine.
His nerves always rattled by the time we make it home.

This morning I juggled a couple hours of work, more cooking. Grocery shopping. Feeding. And list of praying. It's so hard as a mama to navigate through work related things, or even taxes, and college stuff for Kali when he's not feeling well.
I can't put into words of the energy I use daily of just taking care of him.
The unknown. The tomorrow's. The yesterday's. The constant fear. I sleep with both ears open on mom mode. I wake every night, all night with deep prayers laced with sadness. Fears and tears.
I wipe things down like a ninja. I glide in and out of his room ten times an hour. I do laundry I have never cared to wash, because nerves get the best of me.

I know he's gonna keep pushing. I have faith and I keep swimming.
Today while in line at the grocery store Kali sent me a picture of the inside of her gums, to which looked like a cyst. Explaining that we might to get it checked. And as I zoom in, and over analyze it just makes me want to poop.

You know, the over thinker. The one that realizes her children aren't exempt from bigs things. Little things. Scary things. Devastating things.

Life.

I just keep praying.
And searching for the best of the best to help them get through.

And sometimes....

Sometimes you just hope you can keep going.

Pray for Kris, back on Thursday with "our old doctor" that kiiiiiinnnda.....bugged me.
And Friday for a scope down into his gut per his Dads request to rule out GVHD.

One step closer to better.

At least that's what our family prays for.
I'm sure you are too.

Big love, don't give up!

This WARRIOR Mama Lisa Lynn over thinker!