Ick, Ick, Ick

Well, well, well...while Mike was having a happy Friday morning....Lisa and I were groggy and doing the bucket dance....poor kid....ick!

The first bout at 3 AM we both handled like champs (for those of you that don't know, I've always been puke-phobic...Chrissy's arrival in our home apparently was training for this part of my life because I'm proud to stay I stood there and held the bucket while Lisa did her thing and didn't run screaming from the building...that is a huggggggeeeeee accomplishment for me!)

Anyway, the 3 AM thing I thought might be a fluke...given Lisa didn't eat much Thursday night except for 2 bowls of ice cream the U/M sports players delivered as they visited kids. (Go figure, a sick kid who likes ice cream). I have this theory about dairy and queasy stomachs and how they don't work well together and my theory was proven positive at 3 am and confirmed when the nurse walked into the room and covered his face and said "What did she eat?!

We were able to finish the rest of night puke-free, but not with sound sleep. Because of the meds, they wake Lisa every hour to change her pull-up otherwise she will soak thru everything and will get a rash. They also need to make sure she is passing these highly toxic drugs.

At 9AM, the nurse practitioner woke me up with a sunny smile and the words "I've signed the discharge papers, you can home when ever you are ready". Hot damn! I had myself mentally prepared to be there until 7:00pm...awesome, let's get out of here. Start packing up, Lisa sits up, says she's going to be sick and she is. Crap. Ok....clean her up, get her situated. She's fine until she sits up again...What the fu@!? ...ring nurse...ask for drugs...pack faster. It's closing in on 10:00. Find a volunteer to watch Lisa so I can take stuff to the car. Lisa sees me leaving and tries to follow, she stands up, wobbles and starts to fall. Whoa! What the heck? Has she been drinking? Nope, it's the drugs...man she's out of it. Ok, maybe she'll sleep. Tell the volunteer just sit with her don't let her get up. Make three trips to the car. 11:00--Grab a wheel chair, we're ready to go. Take one look at Lisa...hmmm, she doesn't look so go. Call the nurse, have her double-check her temperature. Nope it's fine. Okay, cause I'm not coming back. Man, does she look like crap...I grab a towel, cup of ice, cup of water and a bucket . I force Lisa to lie down in the wheel-chair because she looks likes she's going to just tumble right out of it. 11:30- Off we go.

Get to the parking lot, get her in her new car seat (Thanks Andrea!)...crap...catch some puke. Ok....now I'm standing in a parking lot with a bucket of puke and a bottle of water...yah...well.... ya might want to make sure you don't walk thru any wetspots in an enclosed parking structure. Onwards we go. I'm thinking about how surreal it is that I'm leaving the hospital with a kid who looks/feels much sicker than the kid I brought in. We get 3 blocks from the house and Lisa shoots and scores again. I call Lisa, the zookeeper, and tell her to meet me in the driveway with water, washcloth and towels. Get home, clean Lisa up and send her in the house. Have a few chats with neighbors and friends going by. Really don't want to go in that house....did I tell you I was puke-phobic. Anyway...finally return to house and reality returns.

We continue with this reality as we proceed thru today...Saturday, 6PM. Lisa is still laying down which everyone in the house is now encouraging because every time she's sits up...well, ya get it by now. She is on meds every 6-8 hours, religiously (like I would allow anti-nausea med to be missed!) and because she hasn't even been able to keep water down, at noon we started giving her a teaspoon of liquid every 15 minutes to help keep her hydrated. So far, it's worked.

Thank God for Mary and Alan who have graciously agreed to watch the kids tonight. Mike and I are going to the Fifth Avenue Ballroom, a bar, where our favorite 80s band is playing tonight. I plan on dancing off any and all thought processes...I'm sure Mike will be ridding himself of thought as well, but I think he'll be using drinking, not dancing, to do it!

Ugh...2 more weeks until Chemo number 4!