My lost post vanished into cyberspace so now I need to be very brief so that I can get back to some pressing work.
Today was the first day of antibodies, Revisited. The day started with an 8:15 a.m. arrival at the hospital, we left at 6:15, and at 10:15 p.m. Liam is uncomfortably resting on the couch curled up with his Batman blanket (thank you Martha and Sisters), super soft yellow blankie, puppies and pillow. He's in extreme discomfort and has taken the max amount of pain killers he can take until 2 a.m. He's grunting, moaning, yelping, whimpering and crying. OK. This is hard. There's nothing I can do to relieve his pain except whisper to him that the pain medicine should be working in just a minute.
The day has had all the usual assaults on the body and senses associated with a first day of a new treatment at the hospital including finger stick (which requires negotiating and then restraining), accessing his port(which involves negotiating and restraining) and hearing the agonizing cries of other children as they deal with whatever their treatment is calling for on this particular day (which involves lots of explanation to Liam's questions about why other children are crying). Remind me again why we spend so little money on children's cancer research? Can I please ask the share holders of pharmaceutical companies if they would want the same pharmaceutical companies looking for cures, even if those cures wouldn't ever be multi-million dollar profit centers like other drugs or if they would want those companies to continue to turn a blind eye to all children? OK. OK. Fine. I'll stop. In the interim while I take care of my baby who Ella is so worried about, visit the Cookies for Kids' Cancer website (www.cookiesforkidscancer.org) and plan a bake sale.
Day 1 sort of over. Four days left.