Oct, Nov, Dec

In October Tate scared us when his lung hurt. In November his stomach pain was so bad he ended up in the ER. It’s only the first week in December, and out of nowhere he fainted.

It’s so hard. All the time.

Tate is in Maintenance, the phase when life is supposed to adjust back to normal or something close to it. It’s supposed to be easier, and it is, but we are constantly reminded that our son is not well. We want so badly for him to be okay.

I talked to Tate’s nurse about him fainting, and honestly, she didn’t sound that concerned. She said it is time for us to find him a good Primary Care doctor to call for things that are not Leukemia related. I am not sure where the line is drawn between Leukemia related and not, but I feel like losing consciousness while walking the short distance from his room to the bathroom should be a call to the clinic and not something to spring on a new doctor.

Tate has an appointment for counts and chemotherapy Tuesday morning, and we’ll ask about when to call and when not to. The nurse seemed indifferent when I talked to her, but she may have been right; he was only out for a couple seconds, he didn’t bump his head or get injured from the fall, and he has been very “normal” since it happened.

Tate’s cough is starting to go away, which is great. He woke up this morning sounding a little better than he has the whole last week. In the meantime, Tate has embraced the most sinister look a guy wearing a kitten hoodie can pull off. Tate’s therapists were laughing when he walked into the clinic for his appointments.

Tate has been wearing a mask to therapy the last couple weeks, and it turns out the staff appreciates it. With flu season here, the front desk posted a new notice by the sign-in sheet. It had me laughing! Evidently Capone, the person who wrote it, wanted to make a point without hurting anyone’s feelings.

The part I highlighted with in the blue box says: “If we notice you coughing, we will provide you with a beautiful blue face mask to help bring out your gorgeous eyes.”

Tate’s journey continues to test our strength and our endurance. But that kid is amazing and still fighting.