Happy New Year's Eve, Eve!

No chemo today, on account of Eve's ANC being 364 (up from 304 two days ago). In order to get the Doxorubicin and Dactinomycin, she will need an ANC of 750 or more. Thankfully the transfusion did a good job- her hemoglobin was 9.8. Oh well...we will try again Monday. What can you do?

Tomorrow marks the start of a new year! Here's to reaching our out-of-pocket all over again...

At least we can pay with our American Express and get rewards points. We should be able to redeem them for a small boat by the end of the year.

Overwilmed.

I'm convinced that Dan is overwilmed (get it?) with how our lives are right now. I let him watch TV in our room while I got a shower. Before I left him, I turned it on Sesame Street. Sitting Indian style, he appeared interested in the programming. When I checked on him after my shower, he was watching static. Sitting Indian style, he appeared interested in the programming. Either he was trying to convince Carol Anne not to go into the light, or he wasn't lying when he told me he didn't feel anything.

Natalie was sad I couldn't take her to ballet today. I told her I would go with her next week. My friend has been taking her every week and I am so grateful for that...we really want to keep the kids on their normal schedule. I would have liked to have gone and see her dance, but I had to get Dan ready for soccer while Matt took Eve to get some blood work at the pediatrician's office. No matter how hard I try, I cannot be in multiple places at once. I am not Santa Claus.

Matt got home with Eve in time for me to find out that Eve's ANC (Absolute Neutrophil Count) was 602- under 500 and you are considered neutropenic, meaning you are at a very high risk of getting an infection. Dan and I rushed out the door to head out to soccer. I did my best to get him pumped up. We talked about soccer the whole ride out there.

As soon as we got there, he decided he needed to use the restroom. When we were done washing hands, he asked, "Where is the hand sanitizer?" Good to know something is rubbing off! Any of you who know me personally know that I am not a germophobe. This is the girl who once watched 2-year-old Natalie bury a cracker in the mulch at the playground and the next day watched her dig it back up and eat it. Did I freak out? No. Do I freak out when someone breathes in Eve's direction nowadays? Absolutely.

Dan's soccer class is 50 minutes. 20 minutes into it, he just walks out and heads toward the exit. No tears, no anger, just says he wants to go home. I bribed him to stay with ice cream. He thought about it and decided he did not want any. I told him he was free to go, but he had to go tell his coach he was leaving so the coach wouldn't worry about him. Dan gave a half-hearted goodbye, and we were on our way back to the van. I explained to him that this meant no ice cream- he responded that he didn't want any ice cream. He told me three times on the way home that he wanted no ice cream. Until we pulled into our driveway. Where is my ice cream?!? I want my ice cream!!!

After chasing him outside around our house, then around our neighbors' house, then around our house again, I finally caught the screaming child and wrestled him inside. Had I wanted exercise, I would have signed up for the Mommy and Me version of the soccer class.

Coming back into the house, you will usually see a stack of of mail, and on top there is bound to be a thick envelope from Duke University Health System (or DUHS, as is written all over the hospital...I'm convinced they spray painted that on the back of the wheelchairs for my amusement). When this whole cancer thing started out, the last thing on my mind was money. You just want your child better. That's it. But then people started giving us money here and there. Some of whom don't know me from an alley cat. (How amazing are these people?!) Which made me think for the first time, Oh crap! We actually have to pay for this stuff!!! After seeing some of the bills in which there are multiple radiology charges, Matt and I have a vision in our heads of radiologists sitting around a big table, passing Eve's scans back and forth. Each time it comes into their hands, a tick mark is added to the bill. "Pass that scan back over here! I'm saving up for Cabo!"

It's comforting to know that we are not the only ones going through this, though. And then I feel like a bad person for finding comfort in the fact that there are other people going through this.

And cliché as it may sound, it really is a small world. When I first began my email campaign to your inboxes, I got so many responses from people who had friends or family that had been through Wilms. One good friend from home sent my emails to her aunt, who is friends with the mother of one of the 14 kids in the original bilateral trial (See: Monday, October 26, 2009, part 2). I found out over the weekend that an old coworker's one-year-old daughter was diagnosed with Wilms back in June and has now finished up chemo. What are the odds?

I do feel as though I am in a position to comfort my friends. If they are anything like me, I am sure they have pictured what it would be like to have their own child stricken with cancer, and the thought is pretty upsetting. But when it is your reality, you just have to do what you have to do. I don't really have a lot of time to be upset right now- Nat, Dan, and Eve won't allow it.

Maybe I just made some more time for myself, though--- I went out to get a major haircut. Like, enough hair on the floor to make it look as though Edward Scissorhands and Axl Rose really got into it. I wanted something that I could spend 60 seconds on, tops. More time for being with the kids. Those minutes really add up when you think about how fast they are growing.

(Although Dan might not be growing anymore on account of the Nasonex.)

Wow, I just started a blog.

Blogging sure seems easy when you are just cutting and pasting. This is my 8th post tonight!

Today was the last day we had to force the antibiotics down Eve's throat (until next Monday). The first two days were upsetting to Natalie and Daniel...seeing your little [screaming, hysterical] sister pinned down by three really big people for little to no apparent reason can make you feel all kinds of crazy things. Yesterday, Daniel broke down while Eve was sobbing. When I asked why he was crying, he said, "I don't know!"

This morning was a different story. As soon as we laid Eve out to so lovingly administer her medicine, Nat and Dan pulled out their kid-sized lawn chairs and watched. It was sweet and deranged, all at the same time.

Once my mom dropped off Search and Destroy [Nat and Dan] at preschool, we took advantage of the beautiful weather and took Eve on a walk. I think it was good for her to get some fresh air. She seems to be doing well, even though her blood counts are supposed to be very low a week to ten days after the trifecta of chemo drugs are given. Her blood counts should start to go back up about a week after they bottom out. We have Eve sleeping in our room right now because Natalie loves to get all up in your business, and let's face it, preschoolers are walking petri dishes.

We got the good word from the good doc that we can bench the lisinopril until we go to the clinic on Friday. It is nice to not have to squirt anything else into that poor child for the next few days, although Nat and Dan will be disappointed to have to find a new form of entertainment.

While I am making a real effort trying to make sure the kids are polished and presentable, I feel as though I, myself, must not be making a good enough effort in the hair and makeup department lately. This morning, Natalie told me I looked "busted." I took it as my cue to get in the shower.

Natalie was so in love with Eve's new haircut, that I took her to get her own short 'do after preschool today. My friend Robin brought her daughter, Avana, to get the girls hair cut at the same time. The girls certainly looked cute and not at all busted. We went out for ice cream afterward and the girls got cotton candy flavor (which is not at all good in it's original form when you are over the age of 10, so I passed on that sliver of culinary brilliance). It was the first time I had done anything with Natalie in about two weeks, so it was a treat for both of us. It was entertaining to watch the girls play Duck, Duck, Goose with two people!

I had some quality one-on-one time last Friday night when I took Dan to urgent care. I don't think my kids have ever gotten sick during normal business hours. When Daniel got up from his nap late Friday afternoon, the lymph nodes in his neck were popping out. Thanks to the Scared Straight program at Duke Oncology, we learned that we have to quarantine any suspects and pump them full of antibiotics ASAP. So, off we rushed to urgent care! (For the record, this was my third visit to an urgent care facility in the past year. The first was when I hurt a tendon in my thumb in that freak break-dancing accident, and the second was when Nat got a pearl lodged in her ear.) Don't let the name fool you. No one walks with urgency at urgent care. It's more of a saunter.

When I explained our situation at home, you know, the whole not-wanting-to-get-Eve-sick-because-she-just-started-chemo thing, the doctor knowingly nodded his head and said he understood. He understood that I must be terrified of hearing the "C" word after seeing how large Dan's lymph nodes were. Seriously?? Is that the first thing that pops into your head when your patient has swollen lymph nodes? I hope strep throat makes it into that doctor's top ten list somewhere.

After 10 minutes of his best Seinfeld low-talker impersonation, the doctor finally swabbed his throat and ran a strep test, which was negative. Dan gets a prescription for 10 days of amoxicillin...for something. Come on, where's the creativity in that? I could have written that script in my sleep.

Oh well, at least we don't have to pin him down to take it.

Tomorrow I am taking Daniel to an ENT to literally figure out what is going on in that head of his. I have only seen the little guy breath out of his nose once in his life, and that was at urgent care when they took his temperature orally. He is also a big snorer, which I think is incredibly cute, but apparently can be an indicator of a serious problem. Maybe we can have his tonsils out this year and meet our catastrophic limit. Something to aspire to!

I know I keep saying how blessed we are to be surrounded by such wonderful people, but it's so true. We have had friends bring us food, cleaning supplies, and money for hospital parking and gas. People are bringing Nat and Dan over for playtime with their families. Even seemingly little things, like an email to check up on us, make a huge difference in our lives right now.

Natalie and Daniel came home from preschool today with gift cards to grocery stores and restaurants from families we have never even met. A photographer friend of ours is hosting a fundraiser for our family. Two of our close friends came over tonight with coffee, donuts, and a check from friends and neighbors to help out with Eve's medical expenses. This has been such a humbling experience, and we have no idea how to even start to adequately thank people for all that they have done. We can only hope to pay it forward and be of service to those in need when the time comes!