101.7, and you all know what that means. I took her to the E.R. We waltzed past the people sitting in the waiting room, zipped through triage, and directly into a room. Emma sucked on a cherry flavored Jolly Rancher to mask the smell of the alcohol scrub and the saline flush during port access.
Her tech was a little late getting in, helping somebody else. He bustled in and helped get the right tubes and bottles for the blood counts and cultures. I said hello, I think you've been our tech a couple times. He said it's been 3 or 4 and he remembers Emma.
She was cold. We came wrapped in her thick fleece NEVER EVER GIVE UP blanket, a gift from the Jesse Reese Foundation (Thanks and NEGU!) She was still cold, so her nurse brought a warmed blanket and another fleece to bundle in.
She got her rocephin and the counts came back pretty quick. Her ANC is over 3000, so I expect a dosage adjustment this coming Friday during clinic. They want to keep it between 750 and 1500. We were discharged before she finished her first movie. It may have been our quickest ER visit yet... frequently we are into a third movie before we can go home.
I knew my niece was on her way, so we looked around and found them in the triage line. We talked with Brookie and her mom for a few minutes while they waited for their chance to get into a room. Primary Children's isn't a place you want to meet friends and family if you can help it; but if we're there at the same time we definitely stop for a hug. We are praying Brooklyn feels better soon.
Emma is pretty warm this morning - 99.8 and not going to school. Luckily, the rocephin is good for 24 hours.
This morning I was talking with a friend I haven't seen in a few years, discussing the challenges that we are both experiencing. I sometimes forget what we went through at the beginning. I forget that Emma didn't walk for a month. I forget how dependent we were on anybody who was willing to help a bit. I must have had a dozen different neighbors babysit to give my family breaks during the first few months we were at the hospital so much.
I try not to forget what I am learning. Cancer is a high-profile trouble; but I hope I am learning a bit of empathy for others, too. I suspect that a large chunk of the population is going through serious difficulties at any given moment. Most hardships aren't quite as visible as cancer.
I forgot that I have a FAITH label on this blog. How could I? Well, here comes some Faith aspect.
My friend reminded me of a post from 16 months ago, and I saw the meme on facebook again this week. Forgive my language, but it really doesn't convey differently:
God will only give us what we can handle. Apparently God thinks I'm a bad-ass.Funny, perhaps, but wrong.
I am certain that God does let us have things that we cannot handle.
I know that I am not as strong as the things that I have. God has stepped in and taken care of some things. Two years we have had huge financial miracles that have covered our $10K deductible and out-of-pocket max. It was a miracle the first time, and it was another miracle the second time... maybe even more so because lightning struck twice. First Capital One, and then the Brighton High School community. God directed us to move to Utah so that we would have the family support that we have needed. In those things, God has cleared the trouble out because that wasn't our test. Cancer has different lessons for us. Other parts of our life have different lessons for us.
In other things, though, He has let us struggle and flounder and need him. We have had to put our faith and trust in Him. As we learn to put our trust in Him and to accept His grace, He makes us more than we were. This is the refiner's fire. This is how weak things become strong. This is grace at work and the atonement in practice rather than in theory.
I think I said something like this in September 2013. It is more real today when I look back. I don't expect that this will be the hardest thing I have to do in life. Life is refining and growing and building of character, if we let it be. I certainly hope I'm a better person than I was. I absolutely hope to become a better person than I am.
I am so grateful for the front row seat we have to see the hand of God working through other people. We see the very best of humanity. We see people at their best, because we have been so weak. I trust that God did this on purpose, because he wanted us to lean on Him and to learn of Him through those around us. We don't always do a stellar job of it.
Now, don't let this faith and gratitude for the lessons of cancer confuse anybody about the absolute need for better treatments. I'm absolutely dedicated to research seeking more effective treatments, less toxic treatments, less of the knife-edge balance act between toxicity and efficacy, less trauma, and more varieties of cancer fought with viable treatments.
