COVID-19

Coronavirus hype is everywhere we look. The news is terrifying. People everywhere are using hand sanitizer and wearing masks, and all I an say is welcome to our world. We have been living the paranoia since May 2018, and it isn’t easy. Every sniffling person is suspicious, every cough an enemy. When we were at Tate’s appointment Friday morning, the nurse said she couldn’t give us any masks before we could even ask. It’s a strange thing when a children’s hospital cancer wing is stockpiling basic supplies.

Tate is taking as many precautions as he can to protect himself and still have a life. He carries Clorox wipes in his backpack and disinfects his desk before each class. Except for English because that teacher cleans all the desks herself…thank you neurotic English professor! On the way to his Friday appointment Tate told us that his calculus class was moved to a different room Tuesday night due to a coronavirus-related threat.

He mentioned he probably wasn’t cleaning his hands as often as he should, so I bought him a couple keychain hand sanitizer holders he can clip onto his backpack and cane. They are super silly and 100% in alignment with the things he has been drawn to his entire life is all I can say.

Now that he’s 18, Phoenix Children’s Hospital recognizes Tate as an adult, and Greg and I have been cut off. We no longer have access to his online health history, etc., which is not really going to work. Before his last appointment, Tate filled out some forms that permit us to view his records, speak with staff, etc. It took Tate some time to understand the questions and fill out the forms before his exam and chemo. And after all that, the front desk guy sent a new set of forms back to the examination room for Tate to complete because he had him fill out the wrong set earlier. Welcome to adulthood – ha!

Tate’s appointment went extremely well. His ANC is 940, which is right in the range his doctors want it to be, and he had no new symptoms, aches, or pains to investigate. It even seemed like he tolerated the Vincristine for a little longer than normal before feeling completely wasted by it.

Pretty soon, though, the chemo and steroids caught up with him and he has been in bed ever since. Poor Tate is spending the first spring break of his college career feeling terrible.

We do what we can to help him feel better; it’s a balancing act riddled with misfires, but we keep trying. We stock up on his favorite foods hoping he’ll eat, we check on him, we leave him alone. We spend a lot of time looking under beds for the cat.