The Third Cross

      The third cross has lived in my wallet or purse ever since we got it from Pepper and it had corrected John's Viral Pneumonia after three weeks of head shaking by the doctors and general terror.

     When it was time for the stem cell transplant in March, well - it was ready for action.
      Unlike it's two predecessors, it seems to be aware that its job is not done, hence, it has not disappeared.

     It went to the hospital with John pre-transplant and hung above his bed - along with a little believe worry stone and some angel medals.
      The nurses were scolded if they went near them.
      When Team in Training visited, everyone went looking for the cross. "Where is it?"
      Checking on us.

      When John came home post-transplant and weak and coughing and spitting,         I hung the cross over his bed in his new room.
      The garage door tracks (four of them) serve as closet rails and hanging posts.

      So, since he had been hysterical last night (May 6th) about having an endoscomy, having gone into a coma on the last one back in January 2001, I put the cross into his shirt pocket this morning before we left.
      And left it there.

      After the GI guy came and talked to me this morning, and I reiterated for the zillionth time that he does not do well with Verced and Phentenol,
his heart rate can slow and scare people and it's unpredictable, all which I have not said three times to three other doctors before today, it was decided - since we were so clear about past problems - that a contrast drink and an XRay was a first choice and the endoscopy put off until a later time as needed. Because there is always the danger of a heart rate drop etc etc --- Yes - We know.

      I left for work - because it is good to pick up email and deliver files too big to email Iike the new databook - especially if people are paying you for doing the work. I was to turn it in TODAY - so today it was turned in. Never-mind that I got home later and found that they had changed all the ball numbers for the pins messing up two chapters in the brand new book, which was rushed out because last week they changed the name of the part (748 text changes alone - plus all the drawings). This is called job security. You never get done.

      Low and behold, I returned to the Cancer Center and he was resting (Adavan does that), and he still hadn't had the procedure.
      So -- transport (a human to push a wheelchair and drag the IV pole) showed up and off we all went to radiology.

      I have been such a wreck that I cannot focus - I have started three or four novels - made it 1/2 way - and put them down.
      I NEVER DO THAT!!!! BAD MOMMY! I did write a new story and it seems I need to find an agent.
      I went off to start yet another one while I waited and they did the study.

      After we were done, transport sort of showed up - the guy wanted someone else.
      He took the pole - I took the wheelchair (I had pushed it part way down)
and we headed back.

      Now the new Cancer Center at Stanford was designed by a doctor with his head elsewhere - and like any stupid man - there are not enough restrooms.
      There is also no room for radiology, etc., so we have to go underground thru a tunnel, an archway, and then up 2 floors after a run thru Lucille Packard Children's Hospital and the into the main Stanford Hospital. And then unravel this when returning.

      Transport on the return trip abandoned us after getting us to the tunnel. John was in an oversized chair.
      I grabbed the pole and my son and pushed.
      I made it back to "D" - they had closed "D" and put us in "E". My purse ---- a moment of hysteria later - was found in "E".

      My back and arms and probably legs will scream at me tomorrow. One wrist popped a vessel - why I was taking it easy with weights and de-bulking.

      When he was settled, unhooked (bolis done) and we were leaving the hospital, he patted his pocket.
      Seems that the X-Ray guys had come running out to John during the procedure and asked -- "Do you have a cross and beads in your pocket?"
      Yep.
      Seems it confused them for a bit until they guessed what it was.
      I should have asked for a copy of that X-Ray!

      He is fine - the back of his throat is swollen. Why he has trouble eating and drinking. WE TOLD THEM THIS!!! BEEN THERE! DONE THAT!!!!
      But they were worried - we have to watch for Graves-Host disease - where the transplant decides to attack its new host.
      We do not want that!!!! Why I now dress him in long sleeves and put sun block on his bald head.

      I brought him home and fed him a big cup of Chicken Noodle Soup broth (I love Chicken Noodle Soup).
      And two hard boiled eggs cut up in tiny chunks and heated in Blue Bonnet (butter not allowed).
      And a flattened can of 7-Up. (Pour between two glasses several times to flatten the fizz.)

      And I hung the cross back up over his bed - after nearly putting it into the washing machine. Not really necessary for the cross and beads.

      I had a previously whipped can of soup, a hunk of cheese, a soda, a glass of wine, and a heated bowl of grape Nuts.
      I was hungry and messed up.

      Then I turned on the email and found ---- whoops! There were the pin changes.
      Whoop-tee-do. I have a new ball chart for my databook. (Ball Charts have caused a lot of hilarity at work.)
      And the ball maps for the other writer's book - since I am sneaky and clever and take an Excel table and make it art in Adobe Illustrator and fix it so it can be put into Word, PowerPoint or FrameMaker documents.

      I can do this even on a glass of wine.
      Tomorrow I'll look for that other box of tax papers for the audit - must send with the CPA.