Well, we've made it to the day marked Thursday. Results this morning from last nights Cat Scan show some sort of marks, or issues with his gall bladder. Something that can't easily be explained by the doctor this morning *shocker*, but that he'd have to discuss with surgeons. Surgeons? Kris was here alone as he navigated with both doctors. Second one coming in to say they're still trying to figure out where the infection came from, but with strong predictions of the pneumonia being the culprit. Gall bladders are a filter, and with whatever went on there, it also most likely spread the infection through his body like a monster mash.
He's depressed today. We've shared words back and forth that are becoming more heated without reason. I have my opinions, he has his. It's probably not the best place to negotiate opinions. But..he is sassy and so am I. He's impatient with nurses, speaking his mind like a mad man, enough so that I leave the room. Rightfully so, he has every right at times. There's the typical ordeal of hunting down nurses, assistants, housekeeping, cups, ice, straws, bed pans, etc. They play dumb, or most often disappear just after we request something.
He's schooled a nurse here on how to lower the volume on the IV cart. How to also put the urinal and shit measuring cup together. I've had to step away because I want to laugh. It's not a laughing matter but when you notice a staff that should be equipped or schooled who doesn't know the gig...you step away and laugh. Or you cry.
Or you become a B word. Or D word. Or all of it. The phones in his room aren't reachable and are the old square tan push button box of a thing phone. Need to call food in? G.O.O.D.L.U.CK.
His platelets rose some over night. We can hope that with these infections, and adjusting of meds, time will sooner than later put his body back into place.
He's eating well, and building back up an appetite.
It feels very foreign here. It feels so far, and so odd.
But it's only miles away really...and when I step out of my car, loading bags into my shoulder, I remind myself that being a warrior and a mama is worth fighting on.
I pray when I wake, I pray when I drive. I pray when I'm scared. I listen, and yet I vent.
I read aloud to him the things I need him to hear. And I fold em when I know I need to.
His words to me this morning as he cried, we're exactly how he feels, and what I've said.
He never wanted cancer, and to feel this bad after transplant. He super scared and super bummed. For him, and for all of us. One of the hardest things for him is spending nights alone. Something I've had to allow him to deal with.
It's a beautiful day today. It's not easy, but it's worth the fight!
For now, I laugh through tears. I hear IV beeps down the hall. I continue to deal with language barriers and the "she's" are most often times NOT "he"- (because I have to correct them with my sometimes sharp tongue.
I'm waiting to get his bed changed, and food ordered.
Last night while driving home and talking to Bill, I tried to sort my tears, and fears. And this little epiphany hit me. For years and years I've put together parties for my babes. I've had yearly themes.
I've dwelled over their birthday dinners, and when to lay it out.
Her dad put it all together. Sending me pictures of his final layout.
He did awesome! She's a lucky little birdie...
Thank you Shelley. Thank you friends and family that come together in these circumstance.
Scott his big brother as he calls him staying the night.
One more day to better hopefully.
For now, we pray for counts to rise, no fever and no GVHD with these new med changes.
Happy Memorial Day!
This Mama Lisa
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