The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

Today is the last day before I return to work on a part-time basis so I had been working on a great big list of things to do and take care of that included everything from cleaning my still wintry bedroom closet and overflowing kitchen drawers, prescription refills, perhaps a trip to Abmas Farm or Van Saun Park with Sylvie and perhaps even yoga or a massage.

Instead I sat in a chair at the Reuten clinic from 9 am until 4 pm while Sylvie got lots of fluids, magnesium (her level was dangerously low at 0.9) and Zofran (anti-nausea medicine) all intravenously. After the hellacious weekend, we came to the obvious conclusion that Sylvie isn't feeling well.

When we exited the elevator from the parking lot, I ran into Dr. Diamond, one of the oncologists. He seemed concerned and after listening to my complaints about my little dictator peppered with a few legitimate medical concerns, we reviewed Sylvie's very intense chemotherapy regimen (remember: the combination of Cis-Platinum, Adriamycin/Doxo, 5-FU and Vincristine would KILL an adult) and he said that she is most likely just feeling like crap from it. Makes sense.

We checked in, payed the $30 copay up front and went to Carmen's office for the moment of truth: THE SCALE. Sylvie sits on it because she will not stand up. Last Monday, Sylvie weighed 10 kg. Seven days later: 9.1 kg or 20.2 lbs. That sucks. Jette was there with her dad but Sylvie was in a bad way and pretty unfriendly which breaks my heart because Jette is unconditionally filled with love for Sylvie regardless of how she feels. Suzanne led us into an exam room where she and Annette immediately opted for fluids because they'd clearly make Sylvie feel better. Dr. Harris came in with Annette a little later to review Sylvie's lab results which to no surprise showed low magnesium and dehydration. I told Sylvie flat out that if she was nice to Dr. Harris, I would buy her a present. A very special present. He did his freaky deaky dance and you could tell Sylvie wanted to laugh. She has no idea that her doctor possesses such greatness. He's concerned about Sylvie's lack of appetite and even mentioned the NG tube which freaked me out as much as Sylvie. Michael and I have promised Sylvie NO TUBEY so I flat old told Sylvie that if she doesn't start eating, we have to do the Tube. She asked for a bagel. She took tiny nibbles of cream cheese. I told her it wasn't enough. She asked for a pizza. Siobhan and I wheeled Sylvie and her IV stand to the cafe where Sylvie proudly ordered a margherita pizza. Upon return, we played Sylvie's version of Candyland while I yelled at her to eat. Sylvie ate about 1/2 a slice. Two Barbie movies later, Linda came by to talk about nutrition. I was scared she'd bring up the tube and was pleasantly surprised and relieved when she said that kids cannot tell the difference between:
1). tummy ache
2). constipation
3). hunger pain
4). nausea

And that in most cases, since we are dealing with cancer and chemotherapy, it's the nausea that gets the kids to stop eating and unable to verbalize it. Hence, she proposed a daily dose of Zofran for at least 2 days to see if that helps Sylvie get her appetite back.

Michael took the train to Essex Street/Hackensack at 4:15 which was really perfect timing for us. He had a box of mini cupcakes from Ciao For Now and Sylvie was elated. We went to the Disney store and she was even more excited. We went to Abercrombie & Fitch so Michael could buy new shorts and Sylvie was getting funky to the AWFUL Eurotrash music. And Borders to look for a new Barbie coloring book.

When we got home, Sylvie ate some dinner and we felt victorious. Michael and I ran to the gym and to the garden. Upon return, Sylvie demanded Salmon so Michael had to run out to buy some. Slim pickings when you're looking to buy fresh fish after 8 pm on a Monday night. In the meantime, Sylvie has a doggie medical-play kit that an organization named Eitan's Hope gave her-- a perfect gift in all seriousness although Sylvie has given it a lukewarm reception. Until tonight. There she was giving her stuffed dalmation puppy shots, checking it's ears, listening to its heart and clipping its nails. Repeatedly. And when OJ the cat came by to pilfer salmon from Sylvie's plate, he too got a physical exam from Sylvie. He is a VERY patient cat. He got lots of salmon. He and Sylvie weigh nearly the same.

I told Sylvie it was time for bed and like that, we went upstairs, brushed teeth without a fuss, read one book and lights out.

A great ending to a seemingly crappy day.

Tomorrow is a big day for Sylvie and me. Me because I'll be working in the city, a nervous wreck and have to answer, "HOW IS SYLVIE" at least fifty times. Sylvie has a big day because she'll be without me for the first time in over 4 months. She is also going to Music for Aardvarks and hopefully will have a normal day and eat a ton :-).