Dear Madeline,
I'm so happy that the weekend is finally upon us. I'm not sure if the nurses were pulling an April Fools prank on us or not, but they told us that one of the machines - the only they've used for you - was not working properly and that they almost called us to come in for a 6:30 AM treatment instead of an 8:30 AM treatment. Were they kidding? They did indeed have you get your treatment on a different machine, so who knows? That would have been one prank for which we'd not have been so thrilled to be on the receiving end.
You sailed through radiation treatment this morning, the nurse "de-accessed" your port, and when you woke up and finished chugging on that bottle of yours you flashed everyone some huge smiles. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that your radiation treatments are almost at an end. The clock cannot strike 10 AM on Monday fast enough. When it does, we'll do a victory lap down in "L2" of the Weinberg Building, sprint over to strike that end-of-treatment bell, blow everyone a big, cartoonish kiss, and scram. You've weathered this treatment so well so far, but I'd be lying to you if I said I still wasn't worried about the long-term side effects.
Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts
Friday, April 1, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
... it all seems to fit together. If only we knew to look sooner.
Dear Madeline,
In your brief 7 months of life, you've managed to humble your old man on a daily basis. From the date of your birth to this morning, I've felt challenged by you and rewarded for the effort. We've shared sleepless nights, we've had our fights, and we've worn each other down into submission. Your mom and I often looked at each other in astonishment and defeat, wondering why your first months have been so difficult for such a young baby, especially given your more recent instances of spitting up almost the entire quantity of any amount of bottle you consumed, loss of appetite, intolerance of sitting up and laying on your back for anything more than a few minutes, and general crabbiness.
Last week, you developed an ear infection and, a few days later, you began your first course of antibiotics to treat it (even if the pharmacy forgot to add the compounding liquid to the powder). That gave you some brief relief from Monday night into Thursday morning. Then your mom noticed an odd reaction in your foot: redness, swelling, it was hot to the touch. We wondered if it was an allergic reaction. Just after Mom set up an appointment for you with the pediatrician for the next morning, you presented your first blood-stained diaper.
In your brief 7 months of life, you've managed to humble your old man on a daily basis. From the date of your birth to this morning, I've felt challenged by you and rewarded for the effort. We've shared sleepless nights, we've had our fights, and we've worn each other down into submission. Your mom and I often looked at each other in astonishment and defeat, wondering why your first months have been so difficult for such a young baby, especially given your more recent instances of spitting up almost the entire quantity of any amount of bottle you consumed, loss of appetite, intolerance of sitting up and laying on your back for anything more than a few minutes, and general crabbiness.
Last week, you developed an ear infection and, a few days later, you began your first course of antibiotics to treat it (even if the pharmacy forgot to add the compounding liquid to the powder). That gave you some brief relief from Monday night into Thursday morning. Then your mom noticed an odd reaction in your foot: redness, swelling, it was hot to the touch. We wondered if it was an allergic reaction. Just after Mom set up an appointment for you with the pediatrician for the next morning, you presented your first blood-stained diaper.
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