. . . of every moment. That’s pretty much how Austin lives his life.
We checked in yesterday morning, after a quick trip to the out-patient clinic to verify that his platelets were indeed high enough for chemo. Everything has gone smoothly and we expect to be released shortly after lunch tomorrow. (I probably shouldn’t even say or type or think such things before they actually happen — a lot can go wrong between now and then . . .)
The flu season restrictions have been lifted and kids are now allowed outside as long as they’re not hooked to chemo at that moment. You can even drag your IV pole out to feel the sun on your face and breathe the fresh air. So this morning, Austin had 90 minutes “unhooked” from fluids and took a stroll to the Natural History Museum. How’s that for a little hospital field trip?
We have discussed many possible scenarios regarding the kidney as we move forward with the next round (which we’re pretty much committed to, although we all admit that things could change at any moment). The general consensus seems to be to wait and see. The kidney is still there and still doing its job, albeit more sluggishly than ever. But no one is saying that this is definitely kidney failure or that we’ve reached a point of no return. So we see what happens and we keep wishing and hoping and we take every day with a functioning kidney and without dialysis as a good day.
I mean, look at this guy. How can you not consider this a good day?
Sporting his brand new RB&C hard hat
complete with his name (thanks, Pat).
See the fun you can have with play-doh when you’re bald?
Austin as a triceratops