I say to LW. She takes a breath. "Okay, blow it out." She does so. "Feel better?" We both nod together.
We started doing this, oh, a couple of months ago, when she'd have a sudden attack of the Terrible Twos and start feeling and acting out of control.
What was funny is that she'd get upset and come to me ... "Mo-om. I wanna take a breaf." She didn't think she could do it without me.
So ... I've taken my deep breaf. I'm not screaming anymore. We met with the oncologist. We have a plan. 10 days radiation, 6 months high powered chemo. Every third week (if we're lucky, and her counts stay up), we'll check into the hospital for 3-5 days. Fun!
We have a plan and I'd really just like to go with the flow and start the plan. It seems like a good one, and I trust the doctors. But we're trying to be good smart advocates for LW, so we're going to another cancer hospital on Monday to talk with one of their docs.
She'll need chemo, in any case, so we'll be going in for surgery -- tomorrow, if they can fit us in, Thursday if not -- to get a portacath put in. Wish us luck. Last time, it took 8 hours. (Granted, she was 7 months old with teeny-tiny veins. Now, they're just teeny veins.)
Take a deep breaf.
(And thank you for your comments, your prayers, your tears, making me laugh, and sending us love. Right back at ya.)