All Teens Are Salty

Yesterday Tate had a very long appointment. We arrived at the clinic before 8:00am for his lumbar puncture and intrathecal methotrexate. Dr. Shah performed the procedure, and everything went smoothly. I like appointments with Dr. Shah; he always seems curious and inquisitive, never bored or just going through the motions.

The nurse in the PACU (post-anesthesia care unit) offered Tate a snack when he was awake enough to eat. She said they had goldfish, graham crackers, and un-salted saltines to which Tate replied, “Teens are always salty.”

It took Tate a while to recover enough from anesthesia to move to the other side of the building for the remainder of his treatment. He is very wobbly on his best days, and we all agree moving him from the bed to his wheelchair too soon after anesthesia could lead to a bad fall. When the LPs were performed on the other side of the building, the nurses just moved the bed with him in it, and it was great. That is not possible since Phoenix Children’s Hospital has re-structured how and where they do things.

Tate got two kinds of chemotherapy through his port yesterday: ARA-C and cyclophosphamide. The ARA-C was very quick. The cyclophosphamide takes only about 30 minutes to administer, but it’s an all day thing because they have to give four hours of fluids afterward to prevent bladder damage. Yesterday they gave Tate two bags of fluid before they even began the cyclophosphamide to make sure he was hydrated enough to protect his body. Tate said the cyclophosphamide made him feel like his face was burning. The nurse explained that very few patients experience a burning feeling in the sinuses, and that it would go away when they began the saline flush. She was right, Tate started feeling better soon after.

We had to give Tate his final chemo for the day when we got home. He will be taking thioguanine in pill form for the next two weeks.

Tate was awake early this morning after a good sleep. He feels terrible from all the chemotherapy, his mouth hurts from the frenulum tear, and said he was in a really bad mood. For feeling that crummy he is being perfectly nice to all of us.

Greg is in charge of giving Tate ARA-C injections for the next four days. He is getting quite good at it, even though he has to steel himself before walking into Tate’s room with the syringe. At the beginning of all this I had no idea we would be administering so much chemotherapy ourselves. Honestly, it’s nerve-wracking.

We are heading into another weekend of no plans and trying to keep Tate out of the hospital. I will be keeping up with the pill chemo, and Greg will be giving the shots. We are grateful Tate is sleeping normally again. You can’t get better if you don’t sleep; that’s how the body works.

Happy Friday!

S.