May | 2011 | Love Heals Gage

Monthly Archives: May 2011

It must be the coke…

Posted on May 27, 2011 | 6 comments

and I’m not talking about the passport to refreshment either. But come on. How the hell does Paris Hilton “sing” “act” get paid to make appearances at clubs, be a complete waste of space in general and still have time to tweet about her completely vapid life; and I can’t find time to write a blog post since going back to work??And, do not even get me started on not remembering the last time I got my eyebrows done. Oy-vey, where are the damn tweezers?

So I guess I should start off with Gage is doing fan-fucking-tastic. Have you ever realized that by just adding fuck to a word it will totally drive your point home. Like hi-fucking-larious or re-fucking-diculous. Ohmy-fucking-god Gage has leukemia. Thankyousweet-fucking-babyjeebus Gage is in remission! Point made.

So I am back to work. It is hard, I stand on my feet all day, I am tire. All. The. Time. The insomnia that plagued me when I wasn’t working has decided to stick around. I’m starting to get used to four hours of sleep each night. OK, I’m not. Temazapam is quickly becoming my newest bestie, along with xanax and prozac.

I find it is harder than I had anticipated telling people I see on a regular basis at work, where I have been for the last nine months. Obviously all of my co-workers know, but I deal with outside people all day long, a lot who know about Gagers existence; so of course people ask about him. I told one woman, and she started crying and going on and on and on, about how sad and unfair the world is. I ended up feeling bad! So now, I am very selective on who I tell about Gage. It’s not that I don’t want people to know. Hello! BLOGGING HERE! But it is so much easier telling you people; who I can’t see then telling a person standing right in front of me. I just can’t handle the looks I get.

6 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged acute lymphoblastic leukemia, cancer kids, chemo, chemotherapy, failure, Gage, leukemia

S.T.F.U.

Posted on May 12, 2011 | 18 comments

Male oncology nurse: Does he have cream on his back? Me: …. Him: Does he have cream on his back? Me: Wait, what? He passed? Him: Yup, his counts were 1,100 ME: Shutthefuckup, oh my God. We didn’t think he was going to pass, because he had a cold last week, and we’re all sick at home, and his counts dropped like 20 points in so many hours. He passed? Are you sure?- At this point my voice cracked and the male nurse asked if I was OK.

Honestly I wasn’t sure if I was Ok. I wasn’t really sure how I felt. Of course I was so freaking excited obviously because Gage finally “passed” from delayed intensification to maintenance but scared because holy hell, MAINTENANCE! we have waited nine long months for this. Three months longer then most, because of all the complications. Also because, we are kind of in the chemotherapy home stretch. What if the cancer comes back? We now have more freedom to go places, because maintenance generally means higher counts. How do I go from never taking him anywhere to suddenly start taking places again? I mean there are germs everywhere. EVERYWHERE. ***note to self ask for higher quantity of Xanax, and stock up on hand sanitizer wipes***

So he passed and Gage had to get a lumbar puncture, where his amazing doctor inject chemotherapy medication directly into his spinal fluid and test the fluid for any leukemia cells that should definitely not be there. It is such a stressful time, Gage hates to be held down. Hates it. In the past we have had to have three nurses and myself hold him down, and that was with benadryl and fentanyl. Let me tell you, not fun. At all.

This time it was different though, this time he didn’t try to fight us holding him. He did cry a little, but I sang him songs, traced his eyebrows and nose with my finger and gave him what felt like a million kisses. Telling him that he is such a strong brave boy, a fighter who I couldn’t be prouder of and that I loved him more than words can ever express.

For the next two and a half years Gage will be on a cocktail of chemotherapy drugs, he will get vincristine injected into his port, which hopefully he will get put back in within the next two months. This kid needs a bath, he hasn’t had a “real” one since December 2010, he misses it and sponge baths just don’t cut it. He needs to soak. Then every three months he will get a lumbar puncture to make sure the leukemia stays gone.

He is on the road to recovery people. It is long and so very scary and dangerous. But he is making it. He is surviving.