Thursday, October 9, 2008

Sausage for lunch?

So, here I am, typing a blog entry in The Boy's crib while he sits on the floor and alternates staring off into space with banging a little plastic drum that we borrowed from Child Life Services. Max Q's "For the Children" album is playing in the background. They were generous enough to give The Boy a full hour (shortened by a visit from the doctors, who checked out a certain body part that has been swollen by 40 mL/hour of fluids for the past 40 hours) of alone time in the playroom. He can't be around other kids right now.

That, actually, makes it difficult. When he'd get cranky before, we'd go for a walk around the floor, looking at the pictures on the wall. Now? We can't, because we don't know why he's sick and because one does not expose a chemo baby to other children if avoidable. (Thank G-d we have the babysitter we have, who is only watching The Boy - and, once or twice a week, one little girl from 2:30 to 3:00.) So, we hold him and cuddle him and sing to him and listen to music and hope that it's enough.

This is a little scary to me, because, for the last hour, he has been pretty inactive - content, more or less, to sit and look around. That's not our baby, who is, while not hyperactive, at least active. Meh.

They've ordered an ultrasound of the aforementioned swollen body part. That has to be cleared with the Valerie Fund Center doctors, and then we wait in line. I'm not expecting anything soon.

The Wife is at home, showering, cleaning herself up, and - hopefully - sleeping. She's going to have to spend the nights here, because the only thing that he's eating is breastmilk. I can't provide that very well. I'm a little worried about her, because she's not a homebody and she's confined to this room. I can handle it better than she can, because I'm more self-entertaining and have more gadgets. Let's see what happens.

Still waiting on a revised surgery date. I think this is going to be a long stay, followed by a longer stay in Philly. I hope this doesn't affect my job too much.

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