Thursday, We Did Not Have Cancer

3/17/2012:   4:50 PM

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

I am not sure when I blogged last, so I will catch you up on the last couple of days.

Thursday morning, Davis and I headed in for blood work. Davis' blood was so thick, that it was clotting before Valerie, our wonderful phlebotomist, had a chance to finish. We finally decided to do a peripheral stick in his arm to save time and multiple finger sticks. We then headed out to pick up his buddies.

Davis had had these three best buddies since kindergarten. They all have such different personalities and interests, but they complement one another fantastically. They listen to one another, bounce ideas off each other, and help one another without thought. They are truly kindred spirits. And I think that Davis is at his best, both emotionally and physically, when his friends are around. It is truly like the cancer melts away . . . as though it never really existed. What a blessing these boys and their families have been to us. They haven't shied away at learning and adjusting to our new normal, and I am grateful. Last week when Davis was in the hospital, one of the boys texted Davis, "How are your counts?" I couldn't help smiling at that oddity from one ten-year-old to another.

So Thursday, the boys started with a two-on-two Nerf gun war, and eventually we headed to the farm for fishing and go-kart/4-wheeler/golf cart driving/riding. Hands down, it was one of the best days we have had in a long time.

Friday morning was bound for disaster when I neglected (because I forgot) to get Davis up at 5 AM to eat a little something. He was scheduled for a spinal tap at 1:30 PM and wasn't allowed to eat anything after 5:30 AM because of the anesthesia. When I got him up at 8:00 AM, it was too late. It was a miserable ride down to St. Louis filled with his complaints and bad attitude and my resolve to completely ignore him, which just seemed to fuel his growing fire. He finally gave up and fell asleep at Troy, which was not soon enough but always my luck. Once in clinic, he was fine, and the chemo and spinal went well. 

Davis had severe nausea on the way home. I am sure the combo of anesthesia
and chemo was to blame.

Dr. Bednarski, one of Davis' oncologists, explained that starting the maintenance phase is the third scariest time for families. Diagnosis is the first, and end of treatment is the second. Until now, we have been dependent of Davis' weekly counts. They determine if he needs transfusions and the strength of his immune system. In the maintenance phase, Davis will only get a CBC once a month. I asked the doctor how we will know what his counts are and how strong is immune system is, and he replied, "You won't". I wanted to cry. I am not a risk-taker and I am a bit of a control freak (even though cancer is curing a lot of this in me), so you can imagine why I was beside myself with this news. Apparently, Davis' counts are to be returning within normal limits (except ANC) within six months time. His ANC will still fluctuate given the chemo and viral/bacterial infections that he picks up. He will still be hospitalized for any fevers/low counts.

Other changes that come with the maintenance phase is the resuming of normal activities and oral meds. The doctor wants Davis to consume protein powder and do some endurance building activities to start building his muscle mass for baseball. Davis is also to be held accountable for former responsibilities (chores that he couldn't do because they were too germy or used chemicals). Davis has three new oral chemo medications he takes at home. His daily medications went from three to six, and that doesn't include his "as needed" medication that he takes for pain and/or nausea. Plus, the medications are tricky. Some are taken on an empty stomach, some on a full, some refrigerated, some on certain days of the week. There sure are a gazillion ways to mess this up.

Random picture. Annakate is now an orange belt.

We aren't expected to go back to St. Louis until April. Hopefully, no issues will arise between now and then.

We continue to pray for us. This new phase is already proving to be quite an adjustment. We will never be able to really thank all of you who have lifted us up in prayer and positive thoughts over the last eight months, but please know that we are forever grateful for you. My heart breaks for those who must make this journey alone.

We will keep you posted.