I feel like I was unfair to the nutritionist in my last post--thanks for your comments to back me up. You help me realize that I have a whole army of people on my side. I admit that I was an emotional wreck last night, but I certainly stand my ground that I am trying my best. I also know she was just doing her job and trying her best, too. I guess that is what we are all doing.
And as far as Steven goes, he is trying his best to get out of the hospital. Unfortunately, barring a small miracle, he won't get out until Saturday at the earliest. For some reason, the methotrexate is clearing more slowly this round than it ever has. I have a theory that it has to do with his red blood cell count, but even if my no-medical-background reasoning is right, I have no control over that. He is doing his best to drink and even left his room a little today, hoping that moving around would do the trick. The doctor told him that there wasn't much he could really do to control it either. And so we wait.
He has been eating well and acting like himself. He is taking advantage of his hospital privileges and playing video games practically around the clock. I brought a very optimistic pile of books to the hospital this round because lately he has been a reading champ, but they are sitting there unread.
Sitting around watching my son simultaneously being infused with a poison and playing video games nonstop seems like a twisted kind of torture for me. Today Rob's mom was kind enough to give me a break and I came home and laid down on my bed and instantly felt like I would have the strength to do this again tomorrow. And then I felt guilty for complaining because Steven is the one who is truly stuck. I get to come and go at will and I have two legs to take me there and no IV tower to drag along. I don't have to wear a mask to leave the room, either. And mostly, I'm not the one with cancer.