Friday, May 4, 2012

The governing body for high-level Track and Field athletics has a rule that if an athlete engages under .10 seconds from the starting gun, he or she has had a false start, which is to begin before he or she is allowed. This time is based on studies of the brain that found it cannot hear, process information and react under .10 seconds. So, if the sensor in that athlete’s block records movement under .10 seconds from the starting gun, the athlete is ruled to have a false start and immediately disqualified. False starts are painful. It puts a screeching halt on momentum with a little snap to your neck. Ouch. Though I have been heartbroken at the idea of poison being slowly dripped into my son’s body dragging it to the edge of death with the hope of not going over, I know it has to be done so I wanted to get started.  We can’t get through with what we haven’t started. And, I know chemo start times have been put off, and this won’t be the only time. But, the first time is a little different because the cancer cells have been without a good beating for a while now even though radiation stays in their bodies for I think 6 weeks. We already put it off some because of that unexpected surgery, and although there is a window it will not remain open until we decide it closes. Cancer controls its own windows. Nevertheless, as I heard more than once today “We don’t have a choice.” - which kind of sums up our family’s 2012 so far. So, we deal with what each day offers and today it is that he has a few more days to heal and eat. They already told me that they were going to have a lower tolerance for his platelet levels because he is still healing from the recent brain surgery. So, they are not going to let his numbers get as low as they usually do before they give him a transfusion. So, please pray that his white blood cell count rises quickly to a healthy level so we can go “in-patient” on Wednesday night. So, he and I are just hanging out. He can’t go anywhere with crowds because his immune system is compromised. We can’t go home because the other kids have been sick all week. He won’t participate in any of the events downstairs. He won’t play with any kids on the playground. He won’t go to a park or anything like that. I can’t get him to help the ladies from the Assisted Living facility next door plant their garden. Our daily existence is pretty isolated between the two of us. So, unless I learn to speak Spanish, or draw out my ‘hello’ to the lady at the desk, or take up smoking so I can sit on the smoking porch where a shockingly high number of people are smoking, and doing so at a cancer house for kids, I don’t have a lot of conversations that aren’t about Legos or Transformers. So, I’m not sure what we will get into this weekend, but one good thing is that he loves to ride and look at the cars we pass on the interstate. He doesn’t need to get too far from the hospital because with his counts so low he could get a virus and need to be admitted quickly. The picture I’m including tonight is of Eli’s staples. Yep, like staple gun quality staples. Too bad it’s not Halloween, he’s a dead –ringer for Frankenstein.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.