Fear and Anticipation

It's been a rowdy but pleasant morning here at our house, filled with the now-melodic ruckus of three children at play. When I came downstairs, Logan was perched at the table, finishing up a chocolate chip pancake and smiling like a goon at what seemed to be nothing in particular. He went on to play with some of his cars, go crazy with a Zhu Zhu pet on the entry tile, create a 'book' with Looney Tunes stickers, string and a hole punch, and enjoy an Outback Adventure with Abby. (I'm not entirely sure what it involved, since the duo went upstairs, but I'm assuming there were stuffed kangaroos and koalas included.) A moment ago, he was wandering aimlessly, swinging his arms from side to side, singing to himself as he often does in his tiny and precious voice, and clearly just trying to figure out what to do next. Now, a minute later, he's begun the long and treasured process of creating a Cars parking lot next to me on the couch. Yesterday I told him that he was doing a much better job of navigating the stairs, and he very excitedly smiled and said that's acause my legs don't hurt so much anymore! Such sweetness in such simple words.

Had you told me a calendar month ago that any of this would be happening right now, I probably would've laughed. Sure, Logan's recovery has been slower this time around, but we've had the unexpected -- and medically unlikely -- luxury of having him home with us since November 10th. That kind of thing just doesn't happen with AT/RT kids, so we're thankful to have had such an extended break from CHO. From a purely medical perspective, his earlier clearing of the Methotrexate had a lot to do with not developing a fever and pain that would've kept him on in-patient status, so I thank everyone who prayed for that, and when cycle 4 begins next week, I'll ask you to pray for the very same speedy clearing.

In terms of how he's doing from a technical perspective, yesterday's CBC showed a WBC count of .5, hemoglobin of 8.4, and platelets at 12. He did have to return to CHO for platelets, of course, but then he and Adam were home again by dinner time and little sunshine had a hankerin' for some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. At the hospital, his fully-clothed and shoe-wearing weight was up to 15.5 kilos, which even counting the extra accoutremants, marks a good increase from last Saturday's 14.1. He's eating reasonably well and is still on the TPN overnight; as Adam told Philippa when she called to check in this morning, we plan to fatten him up as much as we possibly can before he heads back for cycle 4.

With all of that said, why do I cite fear in my title? Things are going well, no? Yep, they are. Thank God for that! I reference fear and anticipation because a little while ago, radiology called to give us the appointment for Logan's post-cycle 4 MRI. **gulp** It'll be January 4 at 8 AM. THIS is the MRI that will tell us what's really going on. If the tumor is smaller (or, God PLEASE!, GONE), if its remnants look operable, if radiation becomes a certainly in our future, if he'll have to go through the pheresis process again to harvest more stem cells. On one hand, I was relieved: I'd been peripherally worried that it would fall on my 33rd birthday (1/11). But on the other, there are just so many things riding on the results of that test that it fills me with an odd sense of fear-dredged anticipation.

Anyway, that's it for my little spontaneous late-morning update. Thank you for your prayers and for your support. Much love to you this Thanksgiving week.