Pablo spent the day chillaxin' at home, playing games, watching old school cartoons (he actually calls them that—I wonder where he picked that up?), eating, and—gross factor alert—taking a solid poo the length of an adult leopard tail. Under normal circumstances, one would be disgusted by this detail. But for a boy whose gut has caused him intense pain over the past two weeks, this news could be the basis of a giant party. In fact, Jo Ann was so excited by this, um, movement that she contemplated taking a photo and emailing it to me. I'm kinda glad she didn't. But I find it hilarious that she mustered up enough gross humor to say that.
All of this good-day-ness makes the energy around our house shiny and happy. It's hard to stop and Zen out on it as it's happening—like any cancer family, we use the emergency-free days to catch up on all the hours and days we've lost to the emergency department, the oncology clinic and the 4 West ward at CHLA. Pablo has the most catching up to do, cos he can't play when he's connected to three different drips on an I.V. pole. When I sit down to write these posts, my brain slows down just enough for me to know how I feel. That's one of the reasons I keep writing—it helps me to process.
I don't want to jinx the three consecutive great days we've had this week, but I hope it continues through the weekend. Monday morning we check back into CHLA for three days of in-patient chemo. It's hard for me to commit that fact to writing. It makes me deeply sad and deeply angry. I love CHLA and all the amazing doctors and staffers—they are in the process of saving our son's life. F***********ck, am I angry that we have to go back there. That Pablo has to lay there. Sleep there. Listen to the crazy-making beep of the I.V. pumps. Share a room with another cancer sick child. This might be hard to get, but the thought of going back there after ALLLLLLL the time we've spent at CHLA in the past five months is like being forced to eat a pizza after eating a tube of Mentos and guzzling a two-liter of Diet Coke. It's just hard to get OK with it. Thank God I am jumping the gun. There are three more days ahead that won't involve the harrowed halls of CHLA. I am grateful for that.
Gratitude feels a lot better than anger. So I am going to sign off on a note of gratitude for all of you. The emails, blog comments, phone calls, cards, gifts and blood donations—all that stuff—keeps us going. We relay as much of it as possible to Pablo, and he always smiles a giant smile of happiness to hear your loving, kind words. So, thank you.
We are giving all of you a great big hug and wishing you a safe, sleepy night.