First and foremost, and to pat myself on the back, and pinch my own cheeks...Bill and I went to the gym this morning. And yesterday morning. If there's one thing I hear from people, and witness on some..is they say a good workout helps push the body, and ease the soul. A sort of mental massage.
And whoever made that thought process, is totally right. The only problem is, I really have always loathed the gym. I'm a germaphobe. I'm self conscious. I'm awkward with machines. And I don't care for cardio. I will walk the Earth. But the gym and I? Umm. Well..
Anyway...We arrived back home this morning. Feeling rather good! Very good, and with a pep in my step. After spending the weekend at a place we've come to know pretty well, I'd pack less with the hopes to bring him home. Dr. Farol basically told him he's good to go, it's a common cold and the last final cultures and labs would be in today.
Texting him, and cruising on down the road I'd begin my process of thankful prayer. Something I've become a pro at. This relationship I have with God is something else. He's really got my back. He most definitely has my sons back.
I arrived opening the soft door to his room, getting that sweet dimple smile from him. Asking if Dr. Sahebi stopped by yet. Nope.
I'd make my way in to find discharge paperwork. Soon, the phone rang and the PA whom I LOVE was on the line. His labs look good. WBC 6.4 platelets still down. New prescription for a steroid for his stomach, along with the option for his long term anxiety and mild depression. She went on to explain how hard these transplants are for the body. They gave him a lethal dose of radiation. And for people that go through this, after living a very active young lifestyle are basically slammed to the ground in sheer exhausted depression. She had come in earlier and had a good heart to heart with him. She/they want him to get up and get out. That he must fight through the hardest days in search of the best days. There will be days he can't get up and out, but he has to try.
She wanted his actual doctor to decide whether one more night would be necessary in order to keep an eye on the oral chemo that was started on Saturday.
His doctor would arrive within the hour and he explained his stomach wasn't hurting from the Sprycel (oral chemo) that in fact, it was the GVHD. She obliged and agreed his discharge. Handing me another new prescription and papers from our discharge coordinator.
Soon, our nurse would make her way in giving the green light, but not without Kris asking for a port change and clean. (This dude is on it for his port) - his doctor giving one last order to continue the TPN for 2 more nights. ------> Picture me standing there with the coward fake smile on my face. Ugh!
He'd be in a wheelchair and headed down stairs within 30 minutes. I looked like the normal pack mule Mom, hauling a rolled up bed mat he LOVES, his backpack and my 15 bags. JK LOL!
Pulling away, his quiet demeanor. Me rubbing the top of his buzz top head, and down the freeway we'd go.
First call from home. The pharmacy. Of course they're out the medicine he needs tonight. Ordering for tomorrow's pickup.
He's laying in my bed. A full tummy from a smoothie Jen made him. A room with fresh linens waiting for him. TPN bags in the kitchen waiting for my mad nursing skills at 7.
But for now, it's Moms bed.
Is there any better place?
Day Eighty Two. Thank you for the love. For the prayers. For the positive vibes.
For the texts' and calls. For the peaceful wishes you send him.
If there's one thing that crawls deep under my skin is when people tell him "oh you pushed it too far huh"-
Stop.
Seriously stop.
If you haven't been on his path. In his shoes. Heard what our doctors and nurses tell him.
Stop.
Happy Monday to you, from me.
Love,
This nursing, back to cooking and hovering Mama!
Ps. Have a cold, or bug in your home? Stay away por de favor!
A simple running nose is a nightmare for him...
XO
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