Things have been going relatively well. Every one is healthy.
Davis is notorious for negotiating when it comes to taking his medication. He is incredibly bright and understands which medicines have to be taken (chemo and steroids) and which medications are less important (side effects medications). And although we require him to take all of his medications, he will occasionally try to manipulate us or the system. He will often tell us that he can't take this one particular medicine, Neurontin. It is an anti-seizure medication used to treat the side effects of one of his chemotherapy drugs, Vincristine. He is required to take a few ml twice a day. Sometimes he is nauseous and won't take it, and other times he will take a portion of the required dose. He always reminds us, "I haven't had Vincristine in awhile; it won't be a problem" or "I haven't had side effects from Vincristine since July, I'll be fine." Ok. Whatever. One would think that he would be accustomed to taking medication by now, but he is Davis, and he is stubborn. Very stubborn. (Sadly, I think this character trait is from me or so I have been told). There were a few missed or partial doses this week. And Sunday came. Davis was unable to move the muscles in his arms without excruciating pain. He couldn't pick up a fork to eat nor could he pick up his drumsticks or toothbrush. He was miserable. This was our "I told you so" moment, but it was squelched by his suffering. We had to call his doctor. The doctor raised his dose of Neurontin; he now takes it three times a day, and he was placed on Oxycodone for a few days until the Neurontin kicked in. I am sure that other parents would agree that it is frustrating to sit back and watch your child learn lessons the hard way. However, it appears sometimes (at least in our case) that may be the only way he learns. Amazingly, he has discovered the pain goes away and stays away when he takes the medicine diligently at the proper dose.
We welcome the routine. I love noises of home life: the hum of the TV, the buzzer to the dryer, Davis playing the snare, Annakate listening to music. It is as it should be.
practice. practice. practice. |
I thought that cleaning a fish tank was like riding a bike - something that comes back to you. Not the case, I found. In my defense, I haven't cleaned a fish tank in well over twenty years, and I don't really remember doing a whole lot of fish-tank cleaning when I was seven (what kid didn't have a fish tank in the 80s?), so I fumbled my way through some fish tank cleaning. It was gross and smelly, and I was drenched in water by the time I was finished, but I think the fish will thank me in their own little fish ways. Annakate's fish, Carmen, isn't looking too hot. His little belly is bloated, which is never a good sign. She has never been my sentimental softie, so I am not too worried about her struggling with her emotions in the event that Carmen heads to the Happy Hunting Grounds. I, on the other hand, am a bit more attached to the fish. I told the kids that I have been and will continue to pray for Carmen. They laughed.
happy fish |
We still continue to pray against the short term and long term side effects that go along with this illness, and we fervently pray that Davis is healed from cancer forever. We are thankful and feel truly blessed that Davis has been so healthy (especially with no immune system) for so long. We also are truly grateful that Davis has been fortunate enough to attend school on a regular basis. He needs school. It is his escape from all things cancer.
Thank you for your positive thoughts and prayers. They are working.
Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway. -Emory Austin
We will keep you posted.
I hope that Annakate doesn't adopt my OCD habit of ironing everything. I caught her ironing washcloths for fun. |