Dates. A Bunch of Dates that Mean A Lot and Mean Nothing.
We have the rest of Eliot's treatment laid for us on something like 20 pieces of paper. A lot of the paper lists side effects that include a list of things I can't repeat here. Ug.
Most of them are rare. Things that rarely happen. I just don't want to even look at them right now.
I just sat down with my calendar and his treatment plan to figure out where we're at and when things are going to happen. This was a silly thing to do. In reality at any point, just like last week, we could end up getting off track. Still, I'm curious to see what would theoretically be happening during the week we've scheduled to be on vacation.
Sadly from what I can tell he'll need a clinic visit right in the middle of our vacation. Who knows. One week of oddness could mean that doesn't happen. Or perhaps I figured this out all wrong. I'm guessing they'll work with us so we can still go on vacation. If not I'm sure we'll figure something out. Its wayyyy off in August anyway.
If we somehow push his treatment back a week so that he doesn't need a clinic visit during our vacation it probably means he'll need one on his birthday. That blows.
Here's to hoping I'm bad at reading these barely decipherable forms and whatnot and that I'm off and we'll sail through it all.
If I figured everything out correctly too it means that June 28th will mark the beginning of Eliot's maintenance treatment. This is the time when his chemo will be less intense and his hair will grow back and his strength and he'll be able to go to the park and the Children's Museum and the store.
The most exciting news I read today in our gigantic packet is that Eliot's treatment will end 3 years from the start of Interim Maintenance (interestingly girls only get 2 years tacked on). As long as we stay on course for the next month that means that March 1, 2010 will be the magic day.
I'm not crossing bridges until I'm standing on them lately so we'll see. We'll see about all of these magic dates. We'll see when we get there. Still. The planner in me is having fun looking.
March 1, 2010. March 1, 2010. March 1, 2010. Weird.
Most of them are rare. Things that rarely happen. I just don't want to even look at them right now.
I just sat down with my calendar and his treatment plan to figure out where we're at and when things are going to happen. This was a silly thing to do. In reality at any point, just like last week, we could end up getting off track. Still, I'm curious to see what would theoretically be happening during the week we've scheduled to be on vacation.
Sadly from what I can tell he'll need a clinic visit right in the middle of our vacation. Who knows. One week of oddness could mean that doesn't happen. Or perhaps I figured this out all wrong. I'm guessing they'll work with us so we can still go on vacation. If not I'm sure we'll figure something out. Its wayyyy off in August anyway.
If we somehow push his treatment back a week so that he doesn't need a clinic visit during our vacation it probably means he'll need one on his birthday. That blows.
Here's to hoping I'm bad at reading these barely decipherable forms and whatnot and that I'm off and we'll sail through it all.
If I figured everything out correctly too it means that June 28th will mark the beginning of Eliot's maintenance treatment. This is the time when his chemo will be less intense and his hair will grow back and his strength and he'll be able to go to the park and the Children's Museum and the store.
The most exciting news I read today in our gigantic packet is that Eliot's treatment will end 3 years from the start of Interim Maintenance (interestingly girls only get 2 years tacked on). As long as we stay on course for the next month that means that March 1, 2010 will be the magic day.
I'm not crossing bridges until I'm standing on them lately so we'll see. We'll see about all of these magic dates. We'll see when we get there. Still. The planner in me is having fun looking.
March 1, 2010. March 1, 2010. March 1, 2010. Weird.
posted by Sara at 3:14 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Guys, Hello from the cold North of Duluth. Zach, Ian, Kathy and I send our love and prayers. We know what you are going through, one day at a time. When we went through the hourly regime of up to 8 doctors an hour, we confided in our faith, and took it one day at a time. This year we celebrate 10 years of good health for Zach, a blackbelt in Taekwondo and alot of broken boards. One of the most important things we learned throughout our ordeal with Zach was this, Aaron I know you heard this, you have to take care of yourselves (mom and dad) to take care of your child. Learn to put on your air mask on first before you help others.
We love you all and are always available for anything, support, a meal or just to talk.
The Bouschors
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