Update: Wednesday Night

Pablo sleeping in his bed in the ICU. We are grateful to have a room with sunlight. Half the rooms in the ICU have no windows.

It's way past our family's bed time. But what is our bed time when P's in the ICU? How do we sleep? How do we stop our brains from thinking and our hearts from feeling long enough to shut our eyes and rest? I am exhausted. But it's important to write this post, to keep all of you up to date. And to let go of this day by putting it on paper.

Here's the latest. I'm combining my thoughts with a bunch of thoughts and facts Jo Ann emailed me throughout the evening.

Dr M is hopeful. He emailed me to say 'Pablo's hanging in there!' That made us feel better. Dr M is a brilliant physician, and an honest, forthright person. His words mean everything to us. That said, Pablo is still in critical condition. He still has fever of 38.4—38.9 Celsius. It's been that high all day. You could cook an egg on P's palm he's so hot. The nurses are literally packing chemical ice packs around his body as he lays in bed. He has the old skool traditional cold wash cloth on his head. Jo Ann and I told him how our mothers used to do that for us, and how much we loved it. He was nonplussed, and seems to hate all the cold stuff up on him.

The range of drugs P's on is phenomenal. It's staggering to even think that one little person could be subjected to so many things at once. This observation, coming from me, at the end of 11 months of chemotherapy, radiation, surgeries, and—literally—countless blood and platelet transfusions? Yes, it's true. The idea that Pablo's veins and heart have today taken in red blood, platelets, magnesium, dopamine, Benedryl, two different antibiotics, fluids, and probably a few other things I can't recall—it's stunning.

Another thing: we've made it this far without an I.V. being poked into P's skin. The port in his chest has done the trick for 11 months—until today. He now has a thick I.V. needle in his left arm. They call this an auxiliary port. It is taped with that white silk tape that we've all had, and there's a board taped onto the back of his elbow, to prevent the arm from bending and causing P excruciating pain (it still hurts him).

One of Jo Ann's emails to me this evening perfectly summarized what we need to ask of you, our loving community of friends: Pray for Pablo to get through this fever and infection with a strong heart, strong lungs, strong mind and strong body!

On that note, I wish you a good night.