Still Eight Days

Greg and I were hoping Tate would bounce back a little quicker after his last chemotherapy appointment since it didn’t include a spinal tap, but he did not. It still took a full eight days for him to look and sound like himself.

We have treatment weeks pretty well figured out; we know what’s coming and what to do, but it is still really hard to watch Tate struggle through it. Greg is very good at staying positive during those weeks. I am not. I have no disconnect.

Tate’s lessons and physical and occupational therapy appointments started up again Monday. He has an appointment tomorrow afternoon for blood work to determine whether his immune system is strong enough to resume nightly chemotherapy treatment at home. We’re hoping his ANC is high enough for him to be cleared for regular activity again. Tate still can’t walk due to his injured toe and has an MRI scheduled for Monday morning.

This week Tate looks and feels really good. The steroids are wearing off, so he’s getting enough sleep, and his appetite is close to normal. His hair is growing in, and it’s so soft. I love to leave kisses on his head, and wouldn’t you know it! He doesn’t like it at all.

Last night Tate decided to make some adjustments to his dinner. He dimmed the kitchen lights, grabbed some taco shells and his bowl of chili, and slid onto the floor to make chili tacos. (We have a dining room table he eats at all the time, but he didn’t want to ask me to move the dog gate so he could get his wheelchair through.) I love how adaptable he has become! When he wants something, he figures out a way to do it with as little help as possible. Little by little, taco by taco, Tate is getting his life back.

Months ago, when Tate started falling down trying to walk even short distances, I was crushed by his need for a wheelchair. I could only see it as representing something he lost. Last night, sitting with him in the dark, I could finally see how much it has given him.