REBOUND! Reese had a much better day today, thank god. Protocol wise, it was the same as yesterday (chemo and ATG.) Our nurse explained to us that it can take a day to get the various pain meds sorted out, and learn what a child needs, before it is just right. Well today she had a lot of meds layered (so she was never coming to the end of a dose on more than one at a time) and we started her with the right strengths right away. This, combined with Reese’s adaptability to pain (my sweet girl, her threshold is so high) made for a markedly better day. She has not eaten in two days and she is on so many meds, I haven’t mentioned the steroids, so she is weak but she is doing her best. She wouldn’t nap (my little stinker) so she went to bed before 6pm.
We are slipping deeper into isolation as her immune system is purposely taken out for her transplant. It’s strange, I haven’t met anyone here. I have crossed paths with a couple moms in the lounge for no more than a second, but everyone keeps to themselves. It’s the fear of germs (what if this person is carrying… anything??), the fear of leaving a little loved one alone for more than a split second, and the huge weight that each mom is carrying.
I got to thinking about the diversity of cancer when we were staying at the Family House. Here, everyone shares living spaces and we got to know a few different families in our week there. We stay in a room, identical to the ones surrounding it, on the 5th floor, the transplant floor. Here, we are all equal. We come from different states, countries, communities. Our interests, our economic status, our lifestyles are completely different. The way we raise our children- organic or farm stock, in the mountains or in a big city, daycare or stay-at-home mom, married parents or divorced, we are all totally different. Cancer doesn’t care, here we are stripped down to our core- cancer doesn’t discriminate. But we are all exactly the same. Across nationality, age, gender. We all just want what actually matters. Our children to be happy and live healthy lives. Each of us have something else in common, too. Our children drew the wrong straw and here we are, fighting for their lives alongside them. This is humanity at it’s most simple. Basic. There is beauty in that.
And the Best News: Reese’s new cells arrive in 48 hours and her transplant is just three days away!!
Pictured: Reese playing catch with Nonnie, me, and various other stuffed animals mid afternoon (there just isn’t time for naps.)