Recently, The Boy has decided that he's afraid of, or angry at, the shower. He will crawl from anywhere in the house to the bathroom door, push the bathroom door open, crawl over to the bathtub, pull himself up to standing, and then cry like he's just fallen down a flight of stairs. I mean, screaming and carrying on and crying like he's been bitten by a rabid dog. It's actually kind of cute, but I hope he doesn't use this as an excuse not to shower later in life.
Right now, he's got a NASTY fungal diaper rash - it's actually bleeding, when his little behind is wiped. Combine that with hard constipation-poops, and diaper changes are traumatic. The poor little guy was screaming at us all day. We have an anti-fungal, but it takes a little while to clear up. I wish he hadn't inherited my skin - I get fungal infections pretty easily. Oh, well. Ya gets the good genes with the bad.
I got peed on tonight. Normally, getting peed on by the baby isn't a big deal - you just damp it with a cloth and move on with your life. However, when he's on chemo, and the drugs that he's on have the side effect of causing sterility or worse, getting peed on becomes a hazmat situation. Strip down immediately, wash the places with warm / hot water, and change clothes. Sigh. Six more months of this.
How much do you tell strangers about your kid's cancer? We excused ourselves from a community event tonight so that we could go home and change The Boy's diaper with proper containment procedures - good thing, considering the poop situation. It's an awkward thing, to kind of quickly wrap up a conversation with a new friend and leave for home. I don't look forward to having the conversations at school in the fall, either; "Mr. May, why do you leave on Friday afternoons, early?" "Uh... no reason."
Again to point out: when people say, "How ya doin'?", all they want to hear is , "Fine." Not, "You know, my son was just diagnosed with kidney cancer, and life sucks at this exact moment."
I was called for jury duty at my last address. I don't even live in that county anymore. Can they still arrest me, considering that I got the notice right before I started living at the hospital with The Boy? Probably, although if they sent cops to the Essex County address of my last residence, they will be sorely disappointed. Surprise the heck out of the current residents, though.
My sister-in-law is coming up tonight. I'm really glad for the help. Tomorrow is Chores Day: clean the bathrooms, pay the bills, vaccuum the downstairs, weed the garden, sweep the garage and mow the lawn. More or less. With a nap thrown in. We might go to breakfast, but we'll likely wait until Saturday morning so we can hit the Farmer's Market in town. Then again, one does not rely on the other.