Clark and I were talking this morning, it went something like this…
“Good morning Mother, I think I’m ready to go home today.”
To which I responded…
“Oh no, sorry Clark… this treatment is 6 weeks long.”
To which he replied…
“What the #$!@!! 6 weeks?! I thought you said 6 days!!”
Clark has officially declared that he no longer wants to be in the hospital. He has a subtle way of telling me, by say… refusing to brush his teeth. And not-so-subtle ways like fighting me (more than usual) with his eye drops, and refusing to take his oral meds. I knew this day would come. I was just hoping it would be much later in our stay.
I’m hopeful that this is just a temporary issue. On a more positive note, even though Clark is stubborn with his refusals, I am even more stubborn and (even though I don’t like to) can overpower him when necessary. :) Sorry kiddo, we’re staying until you’re better.
We had a long night of diaper changes. I was hoping Clark would have slept through them (and subsequently allow Mama to sleep through them). But unfortunately that didn’t happen. For some reason, Clark doesn’t like his diaper changes (even by me). Maybe he’s cold? Or just doesn’t want to be disturbed? Either way, we were both up every 2 hours until 8am when his chemo started.
Clark was full of energy this morning… but a kind of tired and cranky energy. Not my favorite combination. He would get frustrated one moment while throwing his toys on the ground, but then jumping up and down giddy with excitement the next. He was a bit of a handful. Around 11am Clark finally had his nap (2 hours!). This gave Mama time to shower and enjoy a hot cup of coffee.
I’m sure you would like to tell Clark “act your age” but that is exactly what he is doing! In the course of the treatment which Nick suffered (when he spelled out on his letter board, the laborious and only way besides turning a thumb up or down) he would tell us his head was “on fire” or his legs did not feel good, etc. I was really digging deep to figure out what might make him feel a little better. “You need not fear death… you have already gone through Hell!” came to my mind. Some days it was only possible to bite my tongue, hold back the tears, and hold his hand. We, ultimately, just do the right thing, knowing it is what is necessary. Some days the darkest clouds gathered on the horizon of my own troubled head. In my early morning thoughts it would feel like a terrible storm was brewing. Then a comment by a nurse, a doctor, or a fragment of good news which raised our hopes would come like a cooling drop of rain and it was not unusual to give it some special significance and I would feel some disproportionate comfort. Nick was making his own Promethean effort and it was profoundly inspiring to his whole family and the caregivers.
All our love and best wishes,
Bob Cruise
Love the conversation! :)
I can imagine that the last thing you want to do in the evening is keep up with the blog but we are all so grateful you do.
Love and hugs to you and Clark and Connor and Patrick. ox
Phewf, 9 – ? = 2. That one I can do with two hands.
Love his sunglasses. Can’t blame the little guy, anyone would want to get the heck out of there. Just think of the moment when Clarky lets out that little squeak of joy when you do get to go home. 33 more sleeps? Getting there!