What the actual @#$!

Have you ever loaded your own dad into an ambulance? Our daughters have and it might have been the most exciting part of their week.

We actually had two good days. Two days when Rico was home and eating meals and able to out. Days when the girls were able to go to school, meet teachers, load their lockers and cubbies. But it was short lived.

Although there is no set journey for cancer treatment, our regiment was supposed to look like something like this:

Inpatient chemo treatment for three days, three weeks off at home resting - repeat three times, add radiation and a surgery.

We are on day ten of our first round, and it looks like this:

Inpatient chemo treatment for three days, stay two extra days because the reaction is so intense. Two days of rest at home. One day of unexplained bleeding - trip to physician who prescribed oral antibiotic. Fever next day, trip to ER. Find out Rico is neutropenic, an unfortunate, but not uncommon side-effect. We can visit him, but only with face masks and scrubbing up each time we enter the room - it’s life threatening.  Bleeding continues from picc line. There’s also an infection,  but they can’t find it. Oncology prescribes broad-spectrum antibiotics. Fever goes down. Talk about discharging him the next day. Rico wakes up at night with chest pains - rather severe chest pains. Local hospital staff offers him Prilosec for heartburn. He demands an EKG, which reveals a blood clot near the picc line. Transfer back to Mayo. Fever returns.

Can I throw in that Tiny has pink eye?.

What the actual @#$! ?

It’s been ten days. 

There is just nothing left of us. If we see you outside and we don’t make eye contact, please don’t take it personally, there is just nothing left for smiles or small talk or anything at all except surviving. We didn’t expect this to be easy, but we didn’t expect to be so so soooo tired after just ten days. We will be ok, but for now it’s hard. 

People ask what we need, but the honest answer is that it’s too hard to tell you - not because we’re proud, but because deciding what needs to be done requires us to use our brains, and there is no room left right now.

We know it won’t always feel like this, and are so grateful for your kindness and patience with all of us.