Whew!

Started the IV chemo today. Very serious stuff. My windpipe ached with dread as I forced myself to push the air-come-razor blades down into my lungs, watching the nurse hook the effective killer drug up to his little chest IV line. I had the craziest urge to switch my position from holding him down to tucking him under my arm like a football and bookin’ it for the door. I know this is necessary and that his good cells will recover. I know that there’s no other way. In order to save my baby, they must poison some of him. I get it, but it doesn’t make breathing it any easier. All the while, he’s gurgling and smiling at my restraint of his ever-seeking hands. Blowing bubbles seems to be his favourite new pass time.

Cleaning the PICC lines was on the to-do list today. I surprised myself by looking forward to the opportunity for closer look. There are tiny little nicks in his skin where they went in, or had tried to. It reminded me of catching the ends of very sharp shears on your fingers when you misjudge your distance... little criss-crosses (sorry for the career-specific analogy, non-groomers). The lines themselves come out of two very tidy larger ones. The nurse carefully cleaned both sites and put the clear sealing plastic over them. No more gauze, as they’re healing well. The original biopsy site on his shoulder, from two weeks ago, has a matching tidy line that already looks much better than my own recent run-in with the C-section blade, 5 months ago.

Kaleb, himself, notices nothing but our long hair falling into range as we lean over him. That, and Francis the turtle living out some adventure on the TV above. He really does love all this attention, though he could do without the pulling off of all the tape!

I watched him like a hawk the entire day. Only by about 6 pm did I relax enough to plop him into his wud-b-walker (the newer model without wheels). He was ecstatic to bust loose from his cozy jail cell. I’m sure that if we’d handed him a tin cup, he’d have been running it along the crib rails. Never once did he display any discomfort, except for being confined. I know not all days are going to be nearly this good, but I’m happy to be finally started on this road.

Enough hopeless moping & fretting... time to kick some ASS!