Transfusion Monday

Our week began with a bang. Grady's alarm didn't go off. And Pablo woke up with gut-wrenching pain for the third day in a row. After a brief moment of grumpy freekout on my part, we got a plan together. I drove Grady to school (which was complicated by the massive traffic back up caused by the Little Tujunga / Angeles Forest fire), and Jo Ann took Pablo to CHLA. His abdominal pains did not slow down over the weekend, and our plan Sunday night was to bring him in first thing.

It seems that bedtime is the witching hour for us. And last night was no exception. As we were getting Pablo ready for bed, his temp was fluctuating between normal and high and he was writhing in pain. We called the on-call oncologist at CHLA to let her know what was going on. The question was, Should we bring him into the ER for tests, or try and make it through the night. For a moment, we thought we were heading to CHLA. As soon as Pablo heard those words, his writhing ramped into a full fit of crying, pushing me away, and screaming 'I don't want to gooooooooo.'

Thankfully, Jo Ann and the doctor on the other end of the phone determined that it was OK for us to monitor his temp through the night, and bring him in to the Oncology Clinic in the morning. They have been at CHLA all day. Pablo's white blood cell count was down to nearly nothing (literally). As I write this, he is over halfway through a four-hour blood transfusion. Prior to the transfusion, Pablo's abdomen was X-rayed. His entire G.I. tract is filled with poo and gas. Even though he has been 'regular,' there's more junk in his trunk that hasn't come out. They've prescribed a medication that will help him poop. Can't wait for that to start working. It's SO HARD to see him in pain.

Late this morning, Polly stopped at Mustard Seed cafe to pick up breakfast, and joined Jo Ann and P. At around 2 p.m., Jo Ann headed out to pick up Grady at school. He is heading to the Phillies / Dodgers game tonight with Jimmy and his dad, Tommy, who flew in from Philly for the game.

If Pablo spikes a fever, he will be admitted to the hospital. They are holding a bed for him in 4 West just in case.

While all this has been going down, I've been at the office working. Jo Ann has kept me up to date every 30 minutes. Polly has been texted me in between. It's hard to be here working, and not down the street, sitting with Pablo. But, five months into Pablo's treatment, we have found that it's important to divide and conquer. If I am at the hospital all day, it takes two days to get back to normal with biz stuff, which makes me more stressed out at home, etc.

For now, everything is OK—in our strange world where 'OK' has a new definition every day.