Pablo and Beans trapped inside Beans' kennel. This photo was taken yesterday afternoon. Unrelated to the hilarious story below (altho if he were home right now, the kennel is prob where he'd be....)
Short post cos I'm a man on the run this morn. We had a hold-up with chemo last night—Pablo wasn't peeing enough, and they had to wait for him to pass a solid quantity of urine before starting his chemo, including the Red Devil. That, together with the gut pain he was experiencing when we got to CHLA, had us worried. But as the sun came up, he peed. And the tummy busting pains went away. The doc last night knew it was gas, so we knew it'd, uh, pass.....
The reason urination is a focus for this round of chemo is because one of the drugs, Pablo is getting, Cytoxan, can cause damage to Pablo's young little bladder. Specifically, it can cause the bladder to bleed. In fact, when he gets this chemo, he has to wake every two hours to go—even if he's asleep. He has become an expert sleepier (that's French for sleep-pee-er). Anyway, every two hours, his urine is tested with a simple litmus test-like paper device that would reveal blood in the urine.
So our normal plan is out the window. A good place for a normal plan at this stage of our lives. The first round of Doxorubicin is starting now, as opposed to 10 p.m. last night. He's on the pre-med roll up—the gateway drugs of Zofran (anti-nausea) and Ativan, which has him high as a kite I just might stop to check you out. When I rang Jo Ann's mobile this morning he picked up and repeated all kinds a insane things that I was saying to him: 'Yo G!' .... ' What up, cuz?' ... 'Yo G, back to the hooo-tel.'
Now we know what Pablo sounds like high—11 years earlier than most other parents of five-year-olds have to start worrying about such things. Check that off the list.
Just ordered pancakes for P. This time, we're trying Madame Matisse on Sunset. Peter and I had brek there yesterday, and were blown away by the p-cakes. Let's see if Master P agrees.