A breather

Well, Dad is back home again, for 2 days at least. He was scheduled to start his third round of chemo next Monday, but his Doctor, Doctor Stone, is going to check his platelet, white and red cell counts before they schedule anything.

Dad started his second round of chemo on July 14th. He hadn't had any platelets, transfusions or Neupogen shots since the 5th. We all thought that was a good sign, that his marrow was starting to heal and produce more mature blood cells. But the second round of chemo was tough on him. It wormed its way into the nerve cells that he had worked so hard to build back up after the Levaquin killed them last year. He lost most of the strength in his left side. His last day of chemo left him so drained and his muscles so cramped in pain that he had to be admitted to the hospital. That was his 72nd birthday.

I was just ending my blog class and getting ready for a writing brainstorm when my brother called to tell me that he had just helped Mom admit Dad to ER. Thankfully, my parents had been staying in the hospitals "Hospitality Suite", which is a block away, a house set aside for family staying with patients of the oncology lab. Dad was in such pain that he couldn't help but scream everytime the nurses moved his legs. Though he hated the thought of the stuff, the doctors administered Morphine. He was pretty weak and out of it for 5 days or so. But, as my tough old bird of a dad will, he pushed and fought and is back up to walking with his walker for 10 minutes stretches. He's fighting with all he's got. If 72 year old man can fight off this thing, it's my stubborn old Dad.

Last week was a tough week in CA. Aside from hearing the worry in my mothers voice and trying to make my Dad laugh at dirty jokes, while he couldn't even do much more than mumble, I saved a tiny kitten from the street. It had been hit by a car, just a little, but enough to crack it's jaw and make one arm useless. I couldn't handle it, gave it to a nice rescue, but the stress made our 16 yr old Munchy cat sick and made me cry inappropriately for about 3 days straight. My niece was also in residence, I love her, but couldn't spend more than 2 hours with her the entire time due to work, sick kitties and my neurosis. Oh and the vet bills for 2 sick cats added to stress. Today the people doctor gave me a prescription for Xanax. I feel so 1970's house-wife.

So now things are calming down in our house and I spoke to Dad, he actually answered the phone when I called their house. He's happy to be back with his Belle dog and he's much more cohearant now that he's not on morphine or in tremendous pain. Mom just sounds bushed. I wish I could share my xanax with her!

Dad is having blood tests on Wednesday, they we'll find out when/if he gets his 3rd round of chemo. I used to really hate waiting, I still hate it, but, one thing I've learned these past two weeks, you can't guess what's going to happen from one day to the next. All you can do is call home every day, tell your parents a dirty or awful joke and let them know that you love them, a lot.