Day 74
Some days are better even than baseball diamonds. John's white blood counts today were .4 (or 400, if you move the decimal), the same as yesterday, but he persuaded the willing team of doctors to let him go home.
John is back in the world he has created in his room after eating (and hopefully, holding) his dinner. I think I'm a respectable cook, but compared to hospital food, I'm Cordon Bleu.
I hope we are back on track now. We have an examination in Seattle in three weeks, a solid outlook for donors and a reasonably well off patient. We are still on the roller coaster, but at least we are driving again.
For some reason, Super Bowl weekend ended up being one of those time when the hospital cleared out - a lot more than Christmas, actually. Figure that. There were more than a few patients on the floor released yesterday and today. Larry, bald and with the scar from the port in his head, bloated from steroids, but still with that kind bulldog look in his eyes was back and walking the halls, determined to be released for the game. The only visitor I saw with Wes was someone from the hospital, making arrangements.
This afternoon, John emailed in the final paper for one of his incompletes from last semester. That's a real sign of fighting back in my book, but it's funny how little grades and such matter now. Every kid with bad grades should come home and say, "Hey dad, I don't have leukemia. Oh, and can you sign my report card?"
Life can't be measured in karats every day, but you wouldn't trade the Hope Diamond for days like today.
John is back in the world he has created in his room after eating (and hopefully, holding) his dinner. I think I'm a respectable cook, but compared to hospital food, I'm Cordon Bleu.
I hope we are back on track now. We have an examination in Seattle in three weeks, a solid outlook for donors and a reasonably well off patient. We are still on the roller coaster, but at least we are driving again.
For some reason, Super Bowl weekend ended up being one of those time when the hospital cleared out - a lot more than Christmas, actually. Figure that. There were more than a few patients on the floor released yesterday and today. Larry, bald and with the scar from the port in his head, bloated from steroids, but still with that kind bulldog look in his eyes was back and walking the halls, determined to be released for the game. The only visitor I saw with Wes was someone from the hospital, making arrangements.
This afternoon, John emailed in the final paper for one of his incompletes from last semester. That's a real sign of fighting back in my book, but it's funny how little grades and such matter now. Every kid with bad grades should come home and say, "Hey dad, I don't have leukemia. Oh, and can you sign my report card?"
Life can't be measured in karats every day, but you wouldn't trade the Hope Diamond for days like today.
