Friday's doctor visit offered the normal routine. Only this time we arrived armed with flowers. Roses to be exact. One bushel for our nurse Anna. The other for our doctor. Her first words as she walked in..."Happy Birthday Kristopher"- Along with hugs, for him. And me.
If there's one thing you all probably know about this Mama, is I am persistent when I want answers. Whether it's a quick consult, labs, appts, or the famous "answers"-
Anna has heard me out more times than I'd like to admit. But she always holds her cool. ALWAYS. I hugged her tight. Giving her the roses with such gratitude. Sharing with her just how much I appreciate her. My range of questions are anywhere from refills, or labs, for labs. Or just simple advice. The notes in his chart would make some people laugh. All those messages from mom.
I'm still that mom.
Why not.
I have lots to lose here. And my quest will be to help him get through this endeavor he never wanted to sign up for in the first place.
We'd tuck away in that little room, just as we always do.
Something I had clenched to the back of my neck the entire ride there, was platelets. Platelets that still seem wonky, and yet he's not on chemo. And he needs to be on chemo. And so mania thoughts still haunt me. I am a momcologist people. A true intern here.
All other counts looked great. Platelets and auto neutriphils. Those two boogers bugged me like a mosquito in your room on a warm summer night. I can't express those concerns to Kris. He's a nervous bird each and every time he has labs. Doc visits. Blood pressure reads. All of it.
Can you blame him? Poor dude smiles and chats back with me all the way there...as he picks his upper lip. A nervous habit he inherited from me.
And so...I kept those silly thoughts to myself. He did ask me on Thursday just after I sent him his WBC's...
"Is that good Mom"- It's almost as though he just relies on mama's way of explaining. Navigating. Pushing. Learning.
He's been through so so much.
I still get sweaty stinky onion under arms each time I log on to his labs.
Her news to him was all things look awesome! Most impressed of THE WAY HE LOOKS. She almost kisses his forehead. Something about being a mama. She has triplets. All boys. She gets overly excited each week, month or moment she can watch her patient thrive. And that is just bitchen. Did I just say bitchen? Or is it Bitchin?
We began to scroll down his med sheets. Taking away a couple more, adding back chemo.
Here's the latest and greatest. And for you transplant advocates or family followers. Do yourself a favor and make these lists' large and clear. Trust me.
You can go down that list with a little pen check mark, each week (changing pen colors every time in rotation). Making a new one each time there's a change. Then take a picture and keep in your phone. Just don't let your paper get crinkled like mine did before I sent it to my boy. You're welcome-
His first days home were on the back of a small poster board. Now look. Progress. Thriving. Praying.
He has some small changes due to some dizziness. His blood pressure fluctuating at a crazy rate right now. It goes extremely high, then drops extremely low. As in 150/100 to 120/50
Right now, we know God has our back. He's working hard behind the scenes. With me. With my heart and most importantly with my birdie.
We left there headed home at 3. The 101 at 3pm on a Friday sucks nuts. Two hours later we'd arrive home. Both relieved. Both exhausted. Both ready to take on the weekend.
But first stop.
Concert at the Marina Park in the LBZ.
Renee would invite us to come down. She'd marked the spot early in the morning.
And here.
This.
My absolute EVERYTHING.
Renee and I danced like no one was watching. We tore up that grassy dance floor with our lovers.
Our little families watching from a distance. Or should I say, snapping buzzed wino smiles of me.
hey hey honey badger!
Dance like no-ones watching, right?
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We celebrated all things LIFE on Friday night. Renee did such a cute job putting this little gathering together for us. Sitting around our babes. Sipping wine. Dancing to 70, 80, and 90's music.
Bill worked Saturday. Kali and I had our last breakfast hurrah, before she headed back to SM.
Car loaded with clean laundry. Few more decorations.
And a hug to finish off the weekend together.
Seasons.
Life.
Love.
Blessings.
Grace.
Hard work.
Blood
Sweat
Tears.
Literally.
And so Sunday morning rolled around. I woke up to an empty quiet house.
Bill headed over to feed his papa.
I lit my candle.
Grabbed my book.
Curled up on the dock.
And read.
And the rest of the day looked like this. Floatin' in that little silly boat-
Happy Monday mama's and papa's.
Keep praying!
Don't give up.
Don't ever ever give up.
There's rainbows after that rain. Somewhere, somehow.
I promise.
This Mama Lisa
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