So, guess who got to blow out her birthday candles today?
Happy birthday, little girl! We are so lucky to have you in our lives. I thank my stars for you every single day.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL BROOKLYN!
In a very unexpected turn, Brooklyn's blood counts shot up virtually overnight. The doctors were shocked and so was I. They released her early.
So, guess who got to blow out her birthday candles today?
Happy birthday, little girl! We are so lucky to have you in our lives. I thank my stars for you every single day.
So, guess who got to blow out her birthday candles today?
Happy birthday, little girl! We are so lucky to have you in our lives. I thank my stars for you every single day.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
ADMITTED
It's hard to believe that the six weeks of delayed intensification have come and gone. The day I gave Brooklyn her last chemo pill of the phase I thought we had made it out in one piece. I was incorrect in that assumption
Sunday afternoon I returned home from an overnight with friends to a seemingly happy little girl. At bedtime I noted that she felt warm so I took her temp and it immediately read 101.3 which is pretty much a guaranteed trip to the ER. I decided to wait 20 minutes because the last time she had a fever, it was on vacation, we hauled off to the local clinic and it turned out to be nothing but a cold. The next time I took her temp it was up to 101.8. I called it in, they asked me what phase she was in, I told them delayed intensification and they told me to not waste another minute.
An hour later Brooklyn was curled up in a ball, in a hospital bed, crying and shivering. Medical workers were rushing in and out of the door with various bags and syringes full of fluids. The ER doctor would walk into the room every few minutes, sit in the corner and watch Brooklyn for a period of time with concerned eyes, and then leave again. I'm used to nurses hurrying in and out of a hospital rooms, but the doctors consistent presence made me nervous. I had the very sudden realization that what was happening was very serious and that Brooklyn was declining very quickly. As people rush around us, I lay in her bed with her, stroking her bald head and wiping her tears away, telling her that she would be okay. She kept telling me that she was ready to go home.
At about 4am they moved a sleeping Brooklyn up to the oncology floor, I was greeted by all of the nurses we had come to know during Brooklyn's diagnosis stay six months before. My back went up as we wheeled Brooklyn past the room she had been diagnosed in. If I never see the inside of that room again...
The next morning it was as if nothing had ever happened. Brooklyn was her normal cheeky self again and wanted bacon and eggs. I, however, was a walking zombie who hadn't so much as seen a bed in over 24 hours. We were informed that Brooklyn would need round the clock antibiotics for four days to treat a very fast moving infection, however I have just been informed that her blood counts are low and we should expect to be here for more like 7. It's a little less than pleasant. They have placed Brooklyn in isolation because she has a residual cough from that fluke cold from a few weeks go. So whenever anyone enters our room they have to dress like they are preparing for the black plague. This also means that she can not leave her room. Additionally, because she is under constant observation people walk in and out of the room all day and all night long. Ironically enough there is surprisingly little rest to be had in a place that emphasizes the importance of actually getting rest.
We are obviously where we need to be. I will not complain about Brooklyncurrent situation because we are just so lucky that the doctors and nurses figured out what was up with her and were able to pull her out of it as quickly as they did. I remember at one point during the commotion thinking about what would happen if she continued to decline at the rate she was going and it scared the crap out of me. Her 3rd birthday is on Saturday. She is still expected to be in isolation. My heart breaks for her because she's been so looking forward to blowing out her candles this year. There will be more birthdays, but there will never be another Brooklyn and so I am counting my blessings this week.
Sunday afternoon I returned home from an overnight with friends to a seemingly happy little girl. At bedtime I noted that she felt warm so I took her temp and it immediately read 101.3 which is pretty much a guaranteed trip to the ER. I decided to wait 20 minutes because the last time she had a fever, it was on vacation, we hauled off to the local clinic and it turned out to be nothing but a cold. The next time I took her temp it was up to 101.8. I called it in, they asked me what phase she was in, I told them delayed intensification and they told me to not waste another minute.
An hour later Brooklyn was curled up in a ball, in a hospital bed, crying and shivering. Medical workers were rushing in and out of the door with various bags and syringes full of fluids. The ER doctor would walk into the room every few minutes, sit in the corner and watch Brooklyn for a period of time with concerned eyes, and then leave again. I'm used to nurses hurrying in and out of a hospital rooms, but the doctors consistent presence made me nervous. I had the very sudden realization that what was happening was very serious and that Brooklyn was declining very quickly. As people rush around us, I lay in her bed with her, stroking her bald head and wiping her tears away, telling her that she would be okay. She kept telling me that she was ready to go home.
At about 4am they moved a sleeping Brooklyn up to the oncology floor, I was greeted by all of the nurses we had come to know during Brooklyn's diagnosis stay six months before. My back went up as we wheeled Brooklyn past the room she had been diagnosed in. If I never see the inside of that room again...
The next morning it was as if nothing had ever happened. Brooklyn was her normal cheeky self again and wanted bacon and eggs. I, however, was a walking zombie who hadn't so much as seen a bed in over 24 hours. We were informed that Brooklyn would need round the clock antibiotics for four days to treat a very fast moving infection, however I have just been informed that her blood counts are low and we should expect to be here for more like 7. It's a little less than pleasant. They have placed Brooklyn in isolation because she has a residual cough from that fluke cold from a few weeks go. So whenever anyone enters our room they have to dress like they are preparing for the black plague. This also means that she can not leave her room. Additionally, because she is under constant observation people walk in and out of the room all day and all night long. Ironically enough there is surprisingly little rest to be had in a place that emphasizes the importance of actually getting rest.
We are obviously where we need to be. I will not complain about Brooklyncurrent situation because we are just so lucky that the doctors and nurses figured out what was up with her and were able to pull her out of it as quickly as they did. I remember at one point during the commotion thinking about what would happen if she continued to decline at the rate she was going and it scared the crap out of me. Her 3rd birthday is on Saturday. She is still expected to be in isolation. My heart breaks for her because she's been so looking forward to blowing out her candles this year. There will be more birthdays, but there will never be another Brooklyn and so I am counting my blessings this week.
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