I'm really kind of depressed that The Boy isn't getting his chemotherapy starting tomorrow. I'm really kind of tired of this whole "jail" thing, because the poor kid is really stuck in a cell. The room is about 8 by 10, more or less, which includes a bed and a crib. He can't go outside into the hallway and look around, so he's locked in his cell until the doctors tell us otherwise.
Funny story: Dr. Rifkin does not get a "bye" from The Boy except when she tells him that he can go home. I wonder how he knows?
It is like a cell. It's depressing, even with all of his toys. Neither my wife nor myself are the type of person that can function long in an enclosed environment without starting to go a little batty. I know that I'm at the end of my rope, yet we have AT LEAST an additional four days in the hospital because of the delay in chemotherapy. That means four more days, sitting in an 8 by 10 room, trying to keep The Boy entertained, amused, and educated. And, trying to keep ourselves from going absolutely insane.
Interesting issue: toys with little pieces. We're having issues with them, and with dozens of crayons, and that sort of thing. Since we have to clean everything, it's very difficult to keep all that stuff up and running without significant annoyance factor. So, we're limiting the number of toys that have teeny tiny little parts in order that cleaning becomes easier. I think we'll leave out one set of tiny puzzle mat, one wooden puzzle, two sets of plastic cars, one magnet thing that plays music, some big Blockos, and one set of stacking cups. That's enough, with a dozen crayons and a coloring book. It'll keep him amused and relatively focused. I'd rather he have fewer things to dump out onto floor. I don't begrudge the dumping out, but I'd prefer to make the cleanup easier.
I know Grandma disagrees with that. She loves playing with the stuff with little pieces with him in the hospital, which drives my wife and me crazy. That's Grandma's job, to spoil The Boy and to drive us crazy. It's payback for dealing with her daughter for so many years.
I'm not sure if I'm worried about this whole "swine flu" thing going around. From my reading, it's pretty much just the flu with a little twist, not a death sentence like the bird flu or Captain Trips. (I've read a little too much Stephen King for my own comfort.) (The Boy just rolled over and grabbed my arm as if it was a teddy bear. He's cute.) They've pretty much said that it's a "pandemic," meaning that it's spread beyond immediate control to enough countries that it's effectively out of control. Multiple cases have arisen in New York City, which means that it's only a matter of time until it shows up in New Jersey. And, since my school is in a commuter town... particularly with a bunch of germy, non-sterile children...
I'm probably a little more sensitive to this because of the fact that the flu lead to symptoms that killed my brother, for whom The Boy was named. With no functioning immune system of which to speak, he strikes me as being extremely sensitive to this illness. I know that he's in the right place and they know how to take care of things like this, but... I'd really like for that swingset to actually get played upon. So far, nobody's been on it, and it's getting lonely out there.
We'll see. I'm headed out of town for Friday night and into Saturday for the barbershop contest. It should be fun. I might be home Saturday afternoon, I might be home Saturday late. It depends.