A Step Toward Normalcy

Logan took another big step toward normalcy today when he had his chemo port removed.

No, you didn't miss any big announcement. It all actually came about last night when I realized that I'd made a near-colossal mistake by forgetting to flush his lines a few mornings this week. In the excitement of no longer using the TPN (IV nutrition bag) overnight, it was somehow lost on me that I still needed to clean out his tubes each day. Adam finally figured out my error last night when he happened to see Logan's line and realized that it was full of dark-colored, likely clotted blood.

He tried to draw out the blood using empty syringes, which didn't work particularly well, and then called CHO to ask what we should do. I relaxed a little when the on-call doctor said there was no reason to rush in; it could wait for this morning. But I still felt like a complete idiot for forgetting such basic care. Yes, I have a lot to do. Yes, things are hectic, especially lately with all of the illness swirling around our home. But there's really no good excuse for that kind of error. It was merely me being careless and forgetful, two things that the mom of a cancer patient can't really be. But the important thing is that ultimately, my mistake didn't harm him.

Anyway, onto this morning. Logan went to preschool as scheduled. He'd have been horribly disappointed to miss it because today was the day they were making mini pizzas, and he'd already decided that he'd use cheese and olives. (P is the letter of the week.) He was, however, NPO (no food or drink) while there, but fortunately he understands what it means and there were no arguments. Adam picked him up a little before 11 and headed to CHO, where Philippa attempted to TPA his line (which means she injected some clot-busting medication). Though we've been doing reasonably well with eating, Dr. T still wanted to try to keep the port in a bit longer. She was able to clear one line, and then the other, but near the end of the process, they noticed that the end of the lumen was leaking. They made the call to remove the port at that point. I wasn't there and don't really know the specifics, but I do know that he went in at about 4, was put under, came out not long afterward, was briefly monitored, and then came home. He has a bandage over the site that can be removed on Sunday.

There's an insane amount of emotion behind these words. It's probably not as palpable as it's been at times in the past, but it's definitely there.

Logan doesn't have a chemo port. He is, for all intents and purposes, a normal kid right now. He can do everything that kids who haven't been afflicted by cancer can do. He doesn't have to worry about one of his siblings inadvertently pulling out his line. He can wear a trundle bundle to bed. He doesn't need clamps or flushes or heparin. It's been more than a year since I've been able to say all of those things. He's not going to like being stuck every Monday for blood draws, but gone are the worries over blood infections and contamination. Just like that. Poof.

My fervent prayer tonight is that the port is gone for good; that he won't ever need another one; that health is here to stay. So please pray for that health, for continued and lasting healing, for a good appetite, for good spirits. For Mark 11:22. For the Holy Spirit to fall afresh on us every single day. For hope, faith, belief and perseverance.

Otherwise, we're trucking along here. It's really been a very good week for Logan. His attitude has, for the most part, been excellent. Yesterday he laughed so hard at the dinner table that I thought he might pass out. A few days ago Adam turned on the DVD of this year's dance recital and Logan took the bait, rising to his feet to prance along to several of his favorite routines. He's been mostly sedentary since he started having issues with his spine, so it was wonderful to see him on the go again.

Anyway, I'm worn out. It's been a long day, and I think my emotions may get the best of me soon, if only for a few minutes. Have a blessed weekend.