I'm Ready to Go Home Now

We've been waiting for almost a week for Benjamin's nutriphils to come back up. All his other numbers are already back to normal, but those darned nutriphils are driving us nuts. Why are they so important, you ask? Nutriphils make up about 65% of your white blood cells, and are necessary to fight off infections, so we kind of need them in Benjamin before he'll even be allowed out of his room. The good news is that once they start coming in, they really skyrocket. Yesterday, Benjamin was at 20 and this morning he was at 210, which means that hopefully he can come home for a little holiday by tomorrow at the latest. Here's hoping.

I think we're all going a little stir crazy in here, especially Benjamin, who, until today, could only look out of his window at the rest of the ward. After all, there's only so much exploring even a 13 month-old can do in the same room for 3 weeks. Right now, every time I put Benjamin on the floor, he makes a bee-line for the door. And he's figured out how to pull himself up and swing his leg over the crib rail when it's not totally raised. It's like he's planning and practising his escape. Next thing you know we're going to discover a rope made of blankets tied together hanging out of the crib, and a rough sketch of the hospital floor plan tucked under his mattress. So even if we only get 2 days home, it will still be better than nothing. And if the weather cooperates, we could even get some quality time outside before it gets too cold.

At least today, Benjamin was allowed out of his room, as long as he stayed away from the other "inmates". But it was just such a joy to be able to eat in the kitchen as he sat in his stroller gnawing at a bread stick. And after his initial confusion due to his being on the other side of his door (like Alice in Through the Looking Glass), he enjoyed it as well.

It's pretty much given that the 3rd course of chemo will start this week. This time it's "only" going to be 5 days, but they will be pretty full days, and it will probably hit Benjamin hard. This isn't something that you get used to, either as a patient, or as a parent watching. Everybody tell me that this is the best age, because he won't remember any of this. And as we always say, he might not remember, but we'll never let him forget (we've got pictures, video and this blog). Although, we might find twenty years from now that Benjamin has deathly phobias towards blue gloves and yellow paper gowns. But by then I'll probably be in therapy anyways dealing with everything I'm currently suppressing or masking with my ridiculously fabulous wit and humor. Do you think therapists give BOGO deals?