Radiation therapy scheduled
Little T has his radiation therapy scheduled, though we still haven't decided we're going to go through with it. His platelets are the best they've ever been at 207 and his fibrinogen is not normal at 167, and slightly lower than last week. And his hematologist says his tumor is still slowly growing up the back of his shoulder. So I called and started the train rolling for radiation therapy. He's scheduled for a CT scan next week on Wed March 22. At some point he'll also get another MRA. Then six radiation treatments on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays April 3, 5, 7, 10, 12 and 14. They all start early in the morning, so we need to leave the house at either 6am or 7am. Mostly 6am.
Our nanny very kindly agreed to show up at 6am or 7am, so we don't have to drag Special K out of bed and take her to the hospital with us. Or alternately stay behind and anxiously wait and wonder. That's definitely a blessing. Otherwise my mother was going to stay with us and help.
My mind really doesn't understand radiation therapy, so I worry about eight times being anesthetized since he's had a few horrible experiences with that, and how Special K will cope with us leaving early in the morning. Sometimes she wakes up and cries or whines and pleads with us not to go. It breaks my heart, because really the last thing I want to do is to take Little T to the hospital to have horrible things done to him. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I always get when I rise too early and compounded by the fact that we have to go to the hospital. I know that feeling all too well. I can dwell on those thoughts too long...well any time is too long.
I cried last night about the house, because it needed more work than I expected and I thought maybe it was my fault, but I think I was also crying for Little T. I grew up thinking crying was a real sign of weakness, but really this is all too much for anybody without crying. And today I can't say I feel better, but at least I don't feel like I want to hide under the blankets and never come out like I felt last night.
Our nanny very kindly agreed to show up at 6am or 7am, so we don't have to drag Special K out of bed and take her to the hospital with us. Or alternately stay behind and anxiously wait and wonder. That's definitely a blessing. Otherwise my mother was going to stay with us and help.
My mind really doesn't understand radiation therapy, so I worry about eight times being anesthetized since he's had a few horrible experiences with that, and how Special K will cope with us leaving early in the morning. Sometimes she wakes up and cries or whines and pleads with us not to go. It breaks my heart, because really the last thing I want to do is to take Little T to the hospital to have horrible things done to him. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I always get when I rise too early and compounded by the fact that we have to go to the hospital. I know that feeling all too well. I can dwell on those thoughts too long...well any time is too long.
I cried last night about the house, because it needed more work than I expected and I thought maybe it was my fault, but I think I was also crying for Little T. I grew up thinking crying was a real sign of weakness, but really this is all too much for anybody without crying. And today I can't say I feel better, but at least I don't feel like I want to hide under the blankets and never come out like I felt last night.