What Goes Up...

I'm sure I referenced in my last post about how those "happy feelings" never stick around while chemo is going on. That being said, I certainly jinxed myself.

I think every parent hopes that their child will be the exception to chemo- that they won't need transfusions, won't get sick, etc. etc. I mean, I know I was hoping that.

What've you got for us, Johnny?

So they screwed up her labs on Thursday, apparently the blood draw clotted so they couldn't get an accurate CBC panel. Fine. Whatever. This stuff happens.

Lisa calls and says Tammy will come out in the morning and redraw her labs and JUST IN CASE she needs a transfusion, well heck, she will throw in a "reservation" for that too at the day clinic.

I'm way more cocky than I should be at this point because we have been doing so well, so I'm like, "Yeah, sure, whatever you need to do."

Thursday turns into Friday, Tammy calls me at work to let me know she is on her way to draw labs for Charlotte, I putz around for the rest of the day anxiously awaiting results.

And it's twelve, then one, and I still haven't heard anything so I sort of forget about it. Decide to hit up a garage sale that was advertised on Craigslist, which was a major disappointment... Sorry to get a little off topic here, but I absolutely LOATHE garage sales that have baby items for more than a buck a piece. Garage sales are NOT to profit off of, they are to clean out the house.

So I leave with two items, having spent three dollars and fifty cents, and head to BP on Whalen road to fill up the car. Gas card doesn't work, but I swipe it twice just in case it was a moment of machine retardedness, throw my hands up in an annoyed gesture, fill up the car and go inside to have the cashier run the card.

On the way out the door I am making a mental note to check out another garage sale Whitney told me about that is by my parents house, and the phone rings. It's Lisa Keller. Here to change my plans.

"So we got Charlotte's blood results back, and her white count is so low they aren't even giving us a number, meaning she has ONE floating around in there somewhere," I chuckle, in spite of myself.

"Her hemoglobin is at 8.4, so she is fine there. However-" Oh, crap. "Her platelets are too low, so she WILL need to come in to day treatment to get a transfusion."

"A transfusion?"

"A transfusion."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"So, we need to come up to the hospital RIGHT NOW for a transfusion..."

I can sort of picture her rolling her eyes and wondering what planet I am on right now, even though that isn't Lisa Keller's way.

"Right. You need to be up her before three," I glance at the clock in my car and its almost two o'clock, and I'm still ten minutes from home, the hospital another thirty to fourty depending on traffic.

"Okay Lisa, we will make it work."

"That's what I want to hear! See you soon."

I hang up and immediately dial Mom. Give her the gist of it, and they have Charlie ready to go when I get there.

En route to AFCH, I am munching on tuna casserole and being annoying to my husband who is already annoyed due to road construction on Midvale boulevard, and people that can't seem to drive their tiny cars in their own lane.

We get to day treatment, get checked in, and argue with a couple of nurses who want to give her oral meds.

Because my daughter is stubborn like her father- trying to give her any kind of medicine is like trying to force feed Kevin vegetables. She gags, and spits it out, and the nurse STILL has me try three more times, to no avail of course.

We give up, and get to the transfusion.

I notice with mild amusement that platelets are the color of orange soda- and then come to the startling realization that because of THAT observation, I will probably never be able to drink orange soda again.

Charlotte lays in bed quietly, watching her Sunkist infusion go through her lines, and then finally conking out for the duration of her platelets.




Kevin and I kill time watching Becker.

Everything goes according to plan, and we head out around six, and the rest of the night is uneventful.

Fast forward to Saturday morning...

I am up at seven getting ready for work, and am almost ready to walk out the door when I notice Charlotte's left eye is red, watery, and almost swelled shut.

The next hour was a scramble of finding someone to work for me, and getting packed up to go up to the ER.

We left the Bean at home, and she ended up spending ALL day Saturday with Aunt Sue at Olbrich Garden's Butterfly Exhibit, and then the beach in Verona. Needless to say, she didn't miss us much!

After three hours at the ER, and a diagnosis of conjunctivitis (pink eye), we got her some eye drops and got to come home.



Now we are playing the waiting game- waiting for her pink eye to go away, waiting for her counts to go up, and living our life in seclusion until then.

It's sort of an "I wish it was five months ago" day today.

Also, to add insult to injury, Kev and I handed the keys to our landlord last night, and when I asked about our security deposit I was told we would have to wait until he could "check out the situation" since WE called the health department and all. He HAS to give us our security deposit back, I'm not worried about that; he just didn't have to be an asshole about it.

Big shock.

I did manage to throw in that WE didn't damage the apartment at all, and WE really need the money.

And I'M not in the mood to play some stupid childish game about it, just because he is pouting about his mold problem.

I left it with me saying, "Well, we decided to move out instead of piss around with it."

Yes, I was irritated.

Now, take a deep breath, and move on.

Or, at least, when I get over this stupid cold and can breathe, THEN I will take a deep breath and get over it.

Kristi Rufener