Some Days Are Just Hard

I try not complain too much about my "bad days," at least not publicly, but today was one for the books. Jack had a blood draw scheduled at the infusion center at 9:30 this morning. This was the first count since he received IVIG two weeks ago, and we were really hoping his platelets would be up from the treatment. Around midnight last night, though, I woke up to Jack crying and I quickly realized that he had a nosebleed. Jack doesn't usually get nosebleeds, and unfortunately nosebleeds can indicate low platelets, so I slept badly the rest of the night as I was now concerned that Jack's body didn't respond to IVIG as we had hoped (plus both girls also woke up at different times during the night...yikes!).

In the morning everything went relatively smoothly and we got out of the door on time for our appointment. Right around 9:30 we were called back by the nurse. I told her about the nosebleed and after talking to the doctor she said we had to get an IV in Jack just in case he needed platelets. I felt like this was the right call since it's better to poke Jack once to get an IV in and do the blood draw at the same time, rather than poke him for the blood draw and then again if an IV is necessary. In theory, going with an IV is a conservative approach even though it may be unnecessary in the end (sometimes I feel like putting in an IV for Jack is like bringing along an umbrella to keep it from raining...it's good luck of sorts).

The kids in the waiting room at the infusion center. These appointments have become so routine for us that the girls are excited to go as the nurses and other staff are familiar, and there are fun toys to play with.

Although it is St. Patrick's Day today, the nurses and Jack were all having very bad luck. Over the next two hours Jack was poked a total of nine times by four different nurses, just to get the tiny amount of blood needed for a CBC. It was pure torture for Jack as he's usually pretty tough and calm through the process, although he always cries which is understandable, but by the fourth poke he was getting mad and by the ninth poke he was furious. It was also pure torture for me, since it's my job to hold him down on my lap and try to convince him to hold still during the nine pokes. Awful. I wanted to cry along with him. Usually I have a pretty good perspective on Jack's blood disorder since I see so many cancer patients when we go to the infusion center, but today I was feeling really sorry for Jack and myself as it sucked. No one should have to get poked nine times within a two hour window, and no mommy should have to hold her child down during the process.

Fortunately, the girls were keeping themselves entertained throughout this very long process by playing with the toys in the infusion center, watching parts of a movie on my iPad, eating snacks, and people watching. The infusion center only has a few private rooms, so today we were in the more public common area, and there were a few other patients in there as well. At one point I had to run over to the girls across the room to break up a fight (they were literally wrestling on the tile floor and all of the other adults in the room were shocked and staring), but for the most part they were very well behaved.

After Jack's blood was finally drawn around noon without placing an IV (lucky poke number nine!), we went downstairs to Subway since it was lunch time. I was so exhausted and hungry, I don't think I made eye contact with any of the onlookers (we tend to draw a crowd with our wagon). We went back to the infusion center to eat our lunch at a kid table. Jack's lunch consisted of a chocolate chip cookie, but I really didn't care as I felt so bad for him since he had such a horrible morning. Thankfully, the preliminary results of the blood draw came back while we were finishing lunch and his platelets were at 83,000. Not quite as high as I had hoped (normal is 150,000-400,000), but at this point I didn't even care as at least it meant that Jack didn't need a platelet transfusion and we could go home.

Of course, two of the three kids had poopy diapers that needed to be changed now that it was time to leave, and no one wanted to leave (go figure!), so it took us forever to actually head back to our car. Alexis got really upset about the diaper change and being forced to leave, so the entire wagon ride through the hospital, down the street, and through the parking lot she was crying and saying, "Daddy! Daddy! I miss my Daddy!" over and over again. People would start to smile when they saw the wagon full of two-year-olds, but as soon as they heard Alexis crying for her daddy their smiles turned to concerned looks as they were probably thinking her daddy was in the hospital. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing like a crazy person as I pulled the wagon to the car. The morning was just too long and stressful, and this tantrum along with the concerned stares was the icing on the cake.

On the 20 minute drive home I had to alternate between singing at the top of my lungs and rolling the windows down to keep the kids awake. I needed the break during nap time today, and nothing was going to get in my way! Although the nap was an hour late so night time might be difficult again, thankfully two of the three are now sleeping and I'm hopeful the third will fall asleep soon too.

Being a mommy is hard. Being a mommy to three two-year-olds is very hard. Being a mommy to three two-year-olds while at a ridiculously long doctor's appointment where one of the children is basically being tortured while mommy holds him down is unimaginable. Is it the weekend yet?