We’re out. Late yesterday afternoon I asked if Liam’s blood counts be tested again to see if they increased enough to earn him a ticket out of the hospital. Normally blood is tested once/day at 3 a.m. but I wanted to try and get him out on Monday night instead of having to spend another night in the hospital. They drew his blood at 4 p.m, and we nervously waited for the results. I was working in my makeshift office in the hallway outside Liam’s room (when I told Liam I had to go to work for a little bit, he reminded me to put on a jacket), Liam and Daddy were playing, and at 5:30 the fellow that helped spring us out of isolation came around the corner to deliver the news. She smiled, said “his ANCs are .9” and then told us we could go home. (.5 wins you a ticket out of the hospital.) Only one thing stood in the way of leaving – a dreaded dressing change. Unfortunately my attempts at making his dressing changes less traumatic didn’t work. It was as painful a process as ever that required three people. It’s nothing less than horrible for us and him. He was so exhausted from fighting the dressing change that he fell asleep in the stroller.
Rejoining society is always a weird thing…both Liam and I feel different after living at the hospital…and it feels strange to be back in a home. Liam only wants to be held and coddled when we first come home. It’s almost as if he’s afraid. He insisted on gathering all his beloved puppies (I think there are now nine) and elephant pillow and curled up on the couch watching Caillou on a portable DVD player that was next to him. He looked so delicate. But then, after about an hour or so in his non-communicative state, he all of the sudden got up and walked to his bedroom to get a toy. He then proceeded to climb into a empty box filled with peanuts and play with them. He loved sitting in the box – loved tossing the peanuts up in the air. And from then on, he was Liam…running around, diving onto the couch, playing, and giggling. It’s nice to be home.