Dear All, A quick note as I am heading to the hospital in a hour for bloodwork and to see if my counts are high enough for my scheduled mid cycle chemo.
I had a quiet weekend, spending it with James and my family. Julian was down in Sevenoaks, helping his parents with their upcoming move while work is done on their home, and digging up more organic goodies to bring back to London. On Saturday, my parents, James and I headed to Kensington Gardens and James loved the fountains. He is such a curious little boy and proudly marched around exploring the sights and sounds. I love the picture above taken with my father. Sunday included another walk, but otherwise we stayed home, as the weather had turned and the gray skies and blustery winds marked the definite arrival of fall. We played hide-and-go-seek, James' favourite game, and he simply giggled and giggled and squealed in excitement as he crawled around searching for one Priorelli or another hidden behind the livingroom furniture. Oh the joy of simple pleasures.
By Sunday evening, however, the "fun" was over. Poor James has been fighting a very runny nose for several days (he made it through his first year never being sick, aside from his initial reflux!), and you could tell that it bothered him, but given the toughie that he is, he was as playful as always. But by Sunday evening, he was an inconsolable bundle of tears (very out of character), and kept rubbing his ears and screaming in pain. Next thing you know, Julian and I are at the hospital, having him checked out. James was a trooper, and melted my heart as he looked over and softly uttered "Daddy", looking firmly at Julian while his chest and breathing was being checked out. As if to say, "I'm being brave but please keep standing right by me". The poor little one's bravery, however, went out the window when his ears were checked, and yes, he had an ear infection, and was given antibiotics. While the ordeal in and of itself was fine (I know that this is our official baptism for the runny noses and colds and infections to come in James' lifetime!), it was hard for me to be at that particular hospital. It felt like only yesterday that I had spent nights with James there as a two week old infant inpatient as he battled his reflux and was on an apnea monitor to "sound the alarm" if he choked and stopped breathing. (I would lie there through the night, listening for the sounds of his breath, and praying that he would get through this...). Then, as we left the hospital last night to head home, I passed the Emergency Unit where I had been poorly assessed for severe chest pain (and told it was nothing much) in the days just prior to receiving my diagnosis. I headed home grateful that James was fine and had his simple treatment, and that I am getting well by the day, on my own treatment journey. Health is everything. I was up in the night with James feeling poorly, but as we cuddled in those late hours and hugged away the tears and stuffy noses, we both knew that we would be fine. And so we held each other close for a while, and finally both fell asleep ending the week on a note of recovery.
So, today is a brand new week, a brand new day. The skies are dark and gray outside, and the wind is still chilly. I am wearing wool, and have my hands wrapped around my cup of green tea. James was clearly feeling better when he woke up, and I am ready for another day of fighting the f*?!er with all I have. Our team is strong.
Hugs to all.
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