Day ?

If you asked me point blank what day it is, you would probably get a blank stare. I'm sure we are still in October, but I fear we are nearing the end and I've yet to make Halloween costumes. I am certain I'll be breaking my tradition - seven years strong. Life goes on, it always does.

The last four days have run together. I'll try to summarize in chronological order.

They started him on intravenous fluids and an antibiotic (Maxipime) the fist day we were in the hospital. The doc thought his stomach pain was probably from mucusitis, which affects the lining of his intestinal track from mouth to rear; it should heal in a few days with the increase in his blood count. (If not, it's constipation and he'll have to take that nasty sour Magnesium Citrate to clean him out.) To relieve his pain until then, the doc continued the Morphine, but at a higher level (1.5mg). The IV Morphine takes effect quicker, but it also wears off quicker. It is the only pain killer that will not mask a fever, so it's what they use. The orders were for 1.5mg every three hours as needed. Each injection would knock him out for a few hours. At times, Greg would be in a crying fit before the next dose; however, after rubbing his legs or distracting him, he was able to withstand the pain for a few extra hours.

The next day, the doc ordered a PCA (Patient Controlled Anesthesia) machine where he would get .5mg every hour in addition to .3mg every ten minutes if he so chose to push the button, maxing out at a total of 2.3mg per hour. For the next few days, he was down and out - literally. His eyes would go crazy when he was about to take a Morphine-induced nap. Although he was 'asleep', it was obvious there were still moments of pain. I didn't like it. I was not sold on a philosophy that would knock him out for a few days and then when he wakes up he'll be hungry and happy. Wouldn't that mask any underlying problems? Is it better for him to be asleep and out of pain, than awake and miserable? I don't know, but I didn't feel like this was the best solution. He would only push the button a few times a day. I found some comfort in that.

His ability to fight infection, as calculated by his bloodwork, increased rapidly, as promised by the doctor; one day it was at a 9, then a 21, then 49, ... we were thinking at this rate, we'll never go home. Greg said our evening prayer and gave thanks for all we have and asked for a blessing to go home soon. The next morning, his counts were up - way up - 590!

His body could now fight infection, but his temperature (which was hovering around 100.6) had to go down, he also had to be eating and drinking enough, and not be having pain. They bumped his Morhphine drip machine down so that he only got .2 every hour with hopes that they could take him off of it completely after lunch. They also gave him some medicine that coats the lining of his stomach, and an antacid med. So, our sights were set on the morrow. Greg cried when he asked if we were going home today and got a different answer than what he had been hoping for.

Will spent Monday with him. He said it didn't look like discharge day because Greg was miserable and neither got a wink of sleep. His calf cramps were now full leg cramps, with some pain on his shins, but more disconcerting was his increase in stomach pain, especially around his belly button.

The kids and I had fun playing outside - drawing on the street (an activity they woke me up early begging me to do) and playing in the water hose (in October!). It was a relaxing day. I was looking forward to having Greg finally come home this afternoon. Surely we could treat his leg cramps with warmed bean bags and make sure he was eating and drinking enough, and wouldn't an afternoon in the sun be Mother Nature's healing touch?

...and then I talked to Will and found out about Greg's pain. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed farther away.

I hate having to farm my kids out yet again. It's hard on them, too. Bella cried and grabbed my leg this morning when a friend came to the door; I think she was afraid her time with Mom had come to an end. There are only a few people that I know Bella won't be crying her eyes out the whole time I am gone, so I've been using and abusing them anytime I need someone to watch the kids. I feel like I'm incurring a debt that I will never be able to repay, yet they continue to serve. I am so thankful for them and for the Christlike love they exemplify.

The nurse prematurely said we could go home. I didn't know if I should jump for joy or argue with her that she was wrong. Whether I liked it or not, he still needed his high dose of morphine, and we needed to find the underlying causes of his leg and stomach pain.

They are stopping the antibiotic, the Morphine drip, lowering his Potassium Chloride solution (in hopes to make him thirsty and hungry), and they said to stop giving him the ex-lax chocolate.

And now he's in isolation until they can analyze a stool sample and prove there's not something bad growing in there. Isolation means: if he goes out, he needs to wear a mask and a hideous adult-sized yellow gown and if an outsider comes in, they get to wear all that and gloves, too. It's a joke. They have me walk to the parents lounge and back to use the bathroom without any problems, as long as I don't fill up my water while I'm there.

He's only been pooping every few days, so who knows how long we'll be in here. If I were more in a the-glass-is-half-full-mood, I'd add that he has been eating a little bit more (cereal and soup and a shot of Instant Breakfast, if we're lucky), so we should be out of here in no time.

They took an xray of his stomach; the results showed a little poop and a lot of gas. That's what they said last time and found out a week later he had intussusception and cancer. I'm skeptical... or maybe just extra tired. Probably both.