They can't all be chipper......

I'm on the couch keeping Jay company while he watches The Davinci Code for the umpteenth time. I think we are both looking for something to take our minds away from the rigors of day to day life with a cancer patient in the house. Being in the hospital sucked. But being at home with a child who's blood is experiencing the effects of 4 days of continuous chemotherapy is no treat, either. My new friends who have found us through this blog and whose children have gone through a similar course of treatment told me we would be ordered to stay in the hospital until Lois's white blood cell count returned to normal. But apparently, the protocol has changed within the last 8 months, and children like Lois are now allowed to return home and have their blood counts monitored through the outpatient clinic. I initially thought that was good news. Now I'm not so sure.

The day after we got home Lois broke out in a red splotchy rash. Then we noticed her breathing was shallow. She wasn't gasping for breath, but she was taking shorter, more frequent breaths. I called the clinic. The chemo drugs she received can cause a rash. And her breathing was probably the result of low hemoglobin. She was infused the day we left the hospital, but apparently, that wouldn't be enough to bring her counts back up to the normal levels. No cause for alarm, they told me. So I've spent the past several nights worrying about Lois's breathing as she slumbered in her crib.

Friday we visited the clinic for a regularly scheduled appointment. Surprisingly, her blood counts were OK. Not normal, but not low enough to infuse. So why the shallow breathing? We headed to radiology for a chest X-ray. Normal. They are scratching their heads, but continue to tell me not to worry. Easier said than done.

We go back Tuesday for another blood check - this time with the assumption she will need an infusion since the chemo has it's maximum effect on the blood about 7 days after treatment. The following Friday we return for another bone marrow aspiration and more blood if needed. If her marrow shows that the chemo has worked and the nasty cells are disappearing, we can schedule her next infusion.

She's not eating, but pitifully seems to be interested in food yet unable to stomach it. It's hard to watch her sit at the table and watch us eat. But when offered food, she cries. Yogurt and cereal seem to be the only two foods going down these days. She's drinking a fair amount of juice and loves a few sips of Momma's caffeine free diet coke from time to time. But that's it. She's limp. She just wants to be held. It hurts my soul to see her like this.

This is a no frills report, and I apologize for that. I'm still trying to shake off this horrible bug that has hit all 4 members of the Hogan family. Momma held off as long as she could. I knew I was starting to get sick those last 2 days in the hospital, but it wasn't until we walked out the doors and got in the car that I looked at Jay and said, "I'm sick." Funny, don't you think? By the time I got to the doc-in-a-box that evening, my fever was over 100 and my blood pressure was a startling 174/110. I'm taking medication for the bronchitis and the blood pressure, but I'm hoping my blood pressure issues were due to the stress of the previous week.

Tonight I just seem to be having trouble avoiding the inevitable question of Why Us? I'm feeling angry. Resentful. Dreading the next 6 months of fear and uncertainly regarding Lois's health.

But tomorrow is a new day, and hopefully it will bring with it a new attitude.

Forgive me the occasional pity party, won't you?

For the emails, phone calls, hospital visits, goody bags, blog comments, and meals we are eternally grateful for: Gwen, Sonja, Phyllis and Darren, Dennis and Allison, Kimy, Evelyn, Fitz, Grandma Betty, Miss Jessica, Heather, and Beth. We owe you. xoxoxo