I'm glad I did all the touch-typing courses on our old Atari 800; The Wife is asleep in the chair (she can't sleep with The Boy right now, because he's all chemo'd up), and I'm sitting on the couch in the dark, typing. The only issue is the Macintosh keyboard, which is a fraction of an inch smaller than what I'm used to typing with. This causes me to miss words occasionally. Whatever. That's why G-d invented the delete key.
We got home around 7:30 tonight, which is WAY early for a chemo visit. Since he only has the VP-16 on the third day (no carboplatin - only twice) and that only takes an hour, we merely had to wait for counts and for another kidney test to come back from the labs before we were discharged. It was a little awkward in the late afternoon - three adults and one cranky boy in a small hospital room is not ideal, particularly with The Wife feeling unwell and Grandma fed up with me. S'alright. We survived, including a massive puking by The Boy cause by a bad stomach feeling post-chemo. That's why G-d invented Zofran.
The day went by relatively quickly. The Wife and I cleaned the toys then went out for breakfast. Breakfast without The Boy is boring. We went to my school and did my music inventory, then arrived at the hospital around 12:30. I got there at one because I stopped at the comic book store and got involved with a discussion about the merits of a single comic book distributor versus the merits and pitfalls of a multiple distributor system.
Yes, I'm a geek. You knew that already.
I got to the hospital and banished the womenfolk from the room. They were really, really antsy at this point, particularly Grandma, who hadn't been out of the room since she got off the train on Wednesday. They were gone for almost four hours. My father was around for an hour or so. The Boy was very cute and very affectionate: he yelled, "Dah-Dee! Dah-Dee! Dah-Dee! Dah-Dee!" and tackled me about six or seven times. He played so well, including taking the numbers from his wooden puzzle and reassembling the numbers in the correct order.
(This happened: He picked up the 4, studied it, then put it down. Picked up the 9, studied it, put it next to the 4. Picked up the 7, studied it, moved the 9 over and put the 7 between the 4 and the 9. Picked up the 1, studied it, then put it down to the left of the 4. I'm not making this up, and this wasn't the first time he's done it. Pretty good for a 22-month old, no?)
He played with all of his toys and read from some of his books before settling down. He sat quietly with me for a while and was just settling to sleep before Grandma and Mommy came barreling in like a herd of heffalumps, waking him up and startling him to activity. He eventually settled down and napped for a bit before dinner and the puking drama afterwards.
Tonight is diaper hell night. I did the 11 and will get the 3, and Grandma is doing the 1 and the 5. The Wife will be skipped out on tonight; being 9 months pregnant and REALLY uncomfortable kind of gives you that right. Her body is swollen like... well, like The Boy's body gets when he's been over-saturated with IV fluids. She's only really comfortable in the adjustable hospital bed or in the lounge chair, so it looks like I'm on Boy-chasing duty for the next few days. We'll see. It doesn't look like she'll be delivering any time soon, but - again - babies have minds of their own. When they want to be born, they're going to be born.