Fever

It's actually pretty incredible that we made it this far without an ER visit due to fever.  After a week of slightly elevated temperatures, Fionn finally clocked in at 101.2 last night at 5:15 pm.  Anything above 101 for a cancer kid means an ER visit.  Due to Fionn's neutropenia (read: low white blood count), we were told to pack a bag and expect to stay.

I should have been mentally prepared to rush Fionn to the ER after all that we've talked about it with our oncologists, but I found it to be very nerve-wracking just the same.  Stuffing things into a bag while trying not to seem too anxious to Fionny, trying to find last minute care for Dex (thank you, Poimbeouf Family!), calling Conor to let him know...the whole thing just felt very chaotic.  Fionn for his part was thrilled that we were going to the hospital and would probably stay the night.  "Yay!  I get to eat there!  Pancakes!  Pizza!"  I think we have the only kid in America who likes hospital food.

Once at the ER, we were rushed to the back.  No time in the ER waiting room for us.  One of the benefits of having a compromised immune system.  Right to the front of the line!

I have to say that, although the ER nurses are great, we have been spoiled with our oncology nurses.  They just...get it.  They understand our kids and what they are experiencing.  And they definitely know a thing or two about accessing a port quickly and efficiently.  Our ER nurse struggled to push the needle into Fionn's port which made both of us squeamish.  The oncology nurses stab it in with one quick movement.  This well-meaning ER nurse worked it in like it was a puzzle piece.  Fionn got downright impatient.  "What are you doing?  What's going on?  I don't like this!" 

Even after she thought she had the needle in, it wasn't.  It was still sticking up out of his skin about a quarter of an inch, so she wasn't able to fill the vials for the blood draw.  "Um...it's supposed to be flush against his skin," I had to say.  Thankfully, she was able to push it in easily.

Ultimately, though, we got some good news.  Fionn's ANC had totally rallied.  Up from 30 on Monday to a whopping 410 last night.  This meant that we could go home after a quick administration of antibiotics.  It also bodes very well for next week.  Chances are very, very high that we will be able to begin Phase 3 on Monday -- great news!  (Those of you who have agreed to watch The Little Monster, consider yourself forewarned!).

But our eventful night didn't end there!  As they started to prepare our discharge paperwork, I reached into my backpack for my wallet...and realized I didn't pack it!  In the craziness of the evening, I tossed it into my diaper bag instead of the hospital backpack.  So we had no way to get out of the parking garage!  Eek!

Thankfully, we have amazing friends.  Jon Groteboer rushed a $10 over to the hospital for me.  Jon, you are a savior.  You saved me from panhandling around the ER waiting room.  That would have really been awkward.

It must be said that Fionn was seriously disappointed that we "got" to go home.  "What?  No!  I'm not leaving.  I'm staying right here."  He folded his little arms and knitted his eyebrows.  He really loves those pancakes, folks.  It is no joke.

Finally I got him to agree to leave the hospital.  "Alright...fine," he said with a big sigh.  "I'll go home."

I guess there's no place like...the hospital?  Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers.  I'll update soon.