Yawn. It's been yet another long day, but all things considered, it was a good one.
The biggest and best news of all is that as long as things continue in the direction they've been going, we'll be able to bring Logan home on Thursday. He'll only be here for about a week, but suddenly, a week feels like a long time so praise God for the potential for something small. His WBC jumped to 5.1 as of this morning's blood draw, which is great: 5.0 is actually the lower level of normal for a non-immunocompromised, non-ill person, so we're making big progress. The downside is that his number improved so suddenly that we missed the window for stem cell collection, which needs to occur right around the 1.0 mark. Since Logan was at 1.8 Sunday morning and .3 the day before, he must've hit the mark right smack in the middle of the weekend, when they don't do collections. We'd been told from the get-go that the collection could be done after cycle one or cycle two, so we're onto number two and hopeful that he won't rebound over a weekend for a second time. If that happens, things could get dicey. Anyway, in addition to the overall WBC, he needs to have a neutrophil (I think that's the right one - I'm sure someone could correct me if I'm off) level of 1000 on his own, without the aid of meds/transfusions, so we're hoping that happens. And of course, he needs to remain fever-less.
As for mood and temperament, it was another encouraging day. There were moments of near-normal Logan, which touched me in ways I can't even begin to describe. No one expects to be touched by cancer, but I can't tell you the simple joy that the most basic of things can bring when you're facing uncertainty of this magnitude. He especially enjoys sitting by the window overlooking the city skyline, so we sat there for some time playing Disney Yahtzee and a small selection of other games. He offered up some great smiles, some silly Ponow talk, and a few other golden nuggets of Logan wonderful-ness. And it all made me realize how very much I miss him.
The doctor came by for rounds and noted that he seemed to be doing very well, so they made the decision to start the process of weaning him off his pain and nausea meds. One of the tools used for doing so is a withdrawal medication, which seems so strange to me: Withdrawal meds for a 4-year old? But it was yet another reminder of the gravity of his disease. He did okay on the lower doses for most of the day, but complained loudly of tummy pain beginning at 4:30, so I asked the nurse to give him some Zofran.
When I called to say good-night, he sounded cheerful and very much like his old self, which was, to be cliche, music to my ears.
Well, my stomach hurts and I'm tired from not sleeping well last night, so I should head to bed. Thank you for your prayers. Please continue to pray for eradication of those tumors and complete healing - I KNOW it can happen! For me, please pray that my stomach will settle and that I'll be able to find time to rest. I'm starting to feel the tiredness of pregnancy, which isn't surprising since I'm just over a week away from the third trimester. Pray for energy for Adam, and a kind heart for Abby, since I'm not sure how she'll respond to Logan when he comes home. His hair was coming out in sheets today and I know she's scared of what he'll look like when she sees him again. Finally, and this is unrelated to our situation, but please keep my friend April in your prayers as well; she recently made a major (and positive) life-decision that was very difficult to take on, and she needs strength.
Good night, and thank you again.
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