Today is one of those moderately frustrating days in the life of a cancer parent. The Boy is at the Valerie Center, getting a blood count done. If his platelets are high enough (his white cells already are, but a 69 in platelets on Monday just won't cut it), then they'll admit him and start chemo today. If his platelets are not high enough, they'll likely transfuse him red cells and then send him home. Depending on the number, The Boy will go back tomorrow or Friday or Monday and likely be admitted.
So, Grandma is on standby in Pittsburgh, waiting for the "Go" or "No Go" call. Grandpa is heading to the center at 10 to help out with the transfusion or the move-in, depending. And, as soon as we get word, I'll send word out to our usual helpers for Saturday through Monday help.
Grandma is only going to be in town until Friday, as Sunday night through Monday night is Yom Kippur, and she's hosting 40-ish people at her house for the break-the-fast meal Monday evening. This means that we're on our own for the weekend - not necessarily a big deal, but made into a big deal because Saturday is a football game and marching band competition. This means that I'm at rehearsal at 9:30AM, the football game starts at 1, and our step-off time at the competition is 9:30PM. This means that my day is done - at minimum - at 10:30PM, and could potentially run until around 2AM, depending on whether or not I'm able to leave after our performance.
Factor in normal Sunday mass at 9:15AM until noon (when I can be back at the hospital), and it's a very busy weekend for me. That makes it difficult to be an active participant in The Boy's care, which means that we're going to need a lot of help. If we're admitted today, we'll be going home on Sunday night or Monday morning, which would be fine. I hope we're not admitted on Friday, because then we're looking at a Tuesday night / Wednesday morning release, which is no fun at all for me.
Still, this uncertainty is part of our everyday life now. We're used to it, but it still rankles quite a bit. Worst part of the whole thing? I'm not going to see The Boy from breakfast this morning until Friday night, if he's admitted - I'm going straight home so I can take care of Younger Bro while The Wife goes to orchestra today, then tomorrow head straight from school to marching band to choir practice until 9:30, then school & marching band on Friday, and THEN I can go to the hospital. I hate being away from my son for that length of time.
I know he needs me, but I need him every bit as much.