Lest anyone should mistakenly begin to think that I'm some sort of superwoman or that I'm on a spiritual high that makes me infallible, I have a confession to make to nip it in the bud in the here and now: I flipped off someone this morning. I was parking at a pump at a local gas station and a tow truck headed toward me waved me off. So I showed him that special sign. I immediately felt guilty and the guy was, to his credit, extremely nice about it: After I'd parked on the other side, he thanked me for moving and explained that his truck's tanks could only reach the pump I'd originally chosen. So yeah: No perfection here, folks. Not a drop. I'm still mercurial, patience-challenged little me. And that's okay.
Logan seems a bit better today. From what I've seen so far, that is. I was late leaving Pleasanton because I got into a conversation with a fellow mom at first grade drop-off and then realized my fuel needle was on The Big E. Then I stopped at a Target in search of snack food (for me - I looked for individually wrapped Rice Krispies Treats but they didn't have any, so I went for Twinkies - nothing says awesome like 10-year shelf stability, after all) and a few more Cars cars. They had a few, but the pickin's are slim of late. Then I dropped Isaac off at grandma's, called Adam to let him know I was 20 minutes away, and proceeded to drive into Oakland only discover that my exit ramp was closed and there were NO detour signs posted. Nice. So I drove around downtown Oakland with the aid of my near-hopelessly confused GPS, Emily, trying to lead me in the right direction. Forty minutes later, I reached Children's. But I'm here.
I started this entry about 2 hours ago. Since then, a neurologist came to evaluate his speech and physical abilities (both deemed fine). I inadvertently used up most of my 2 hours of overlap time with Adam by attending a support group on-floor; I was lured in with the promise of pizza, and well, I'm preggo and constantly hungry. Logan pooped a few times (huzzah!), and ate almost all of his mac and cheese, a few french fries (with ketchup) and a few bites of grilled cheese. I drew him Mater and the Sheriff, per his request, and now he's sort of alternately lulling and moaning, clutching his brand new die cast Dinoco Chick Hicks, the reward for eating at lunchtime. He's clearly not comfortable, but like I said before, it's all a process in terms of figuring out which doses of which meds are appropriate.
So that's it for the moment. He still seems to be handling the chemo drugs okay - no vomit last night, according to reports. They're going to try to get us out of here and headed home as soon as is possible, but it's likely we'll be back sooner than later, since apparently first-round patients often develop fevers post-course. Oh well. We'll take what we can get.
Please keep the prayers coming.