A new kind of normal
I’ve had a few people highlight that I haven’t posted in a while, asking after us and how George’s chemotherapy is going, so thought I’d give an update.
Things are normal – our new normal anyway, hence the radio silence. If you do keep up via the Facebook page or on Twitter you’ll have seen the little life updates from Instagram or when I’ve tagged us in Alder Hey.
We enjoyed our trip down south to visit family in the last school holidays and I survived the “beautiful” singing all the way in the car by the kids. Whipsnade Zoo was great and it was lovely to spend some time with our family there. The drive home wasn’t so enjoyable late at night trying to navigate alone. The kids were sleeping and I was diverted off the M6 TWICE back to Warrington! Anyway, I lived to tell the tale…
Temperature spike during maintenance
The following couple of days we were in and out of Alder Hey as George was poorly. He’d spiked temperatures and needed intravenous antibiotics through his port, plus the usual blood tests and cultures, snot samples and all that. Imagine someone sticking a tube up your nose to suck out the snot! The tests came back showing he had 3 viruses that may linger but the hospital were happy he should be able to fight them off with the white blood count/neutrophils he had. He’s gradually improved since then and thankfully he was over it by the time he was back in school.
Back to school
We’ve been back at school for a couple of weeks now and had Halloween and Bonfire night in between. We managed to host our usual Halloween party, that got messy and then hid indoors on the 5th November with Sugar the poo away from the noisy fireworks.
George had a couple of emotional days after the first week back crying in school and crying at the gates saying he just wants to go home with Mummy. Broke my heart…. but we both sucked it up. The teachers were as lovely as usual encouraging him and talking about what lovely plans they had that day. The school office called me as soon as I got home to tell me he’d settled so I didn’t spend the day fretting.
Oliver ran for his school in cross country at Walton Gardens last week and has been enjoying playing basketball. Harriet’s being graded for her first karate belt next week. She’s still spending some of her time as her alter ego “The Carrot” or pointing her finger up off her forehead pretending to be a unicorn quite a lot. I must say the finger doesn’t look like a unicorn horn, it looks more like something else that’s a little unsettling as she trots around the playground. She is also enjoying signing choir (that’s signing and singing!) and will be involved in a few choirs over the Christmas time. We’re not sick of the Christmas songs already, honest.
Damien and I were really pleased with the big reveal of what George is lined up to be in his first school Christmas performance. One for the family album, that he tells me he chose himself – none other than a Christmas Angel Ballerina! complete with wings and a tutu. He’s going to look beautiful!!
We had our first telephone maintenance appointment last week which felt bizarre. We’d gone in to Oncology Daycare at Alder Hey on the Monday for George to have his gripper removed, as he’d been in with temperatures a couple of times over the previous days. It had been left in in case it needed accessing again to save him having to keep having the needle into Barry (the port). While we were there George had his bloods taken so that the Doctor could decide what dose of chemo he should change to if need be on the Wednesday.
The call was pretty straight forward apart from me flapping a little over what numbers go where on the sheet. Ultimately his dose had stayed the same anyway but I had to mark down the information correctly to prove we’re not morons (or pretend we’re not!) and keep on telephone maintenance! no pressure.
We’re back for more blood tests next Wednesday and George will be going in to be checked over the by the doctor again.
Losing the plot
I feel like I’m going a little bit crazy at home now all three kids are in school most of the time. The dog has more walks than most of the dogs on the street added together! half the dog walkers on the park know my life story and I don’t even know their names. I must spend a fortune on cake and lunching out because I can’t stand my only purpose being housework and the weekly shop. I know! I know! I shouldn’t complain, I know i’m lucky to be in this position, but I don’t do “nothing” very well. I’m angry with myself for not throwing myself into decorating and cooking wonderful meals like a good little wife but it’s dull, and it’s not me.
Before anyone starts – I’m already volunteering at school, getting more involved with the PTA and have been quietly setting up a little business in the background.
The anniversary of when I think George’s health started deteriorating last year is upon us already… it was November 2015 when he first started with temperatures and was having antibiotics for tonsilitis – which is quite common in patients who end up being diagnosed with leukaemia. I can’t believe how affected I am by the thought of Christmas approaching. Oh I will be trying my very best to enjoy every last second this year! it’s just hard to not reflect on being in Warrington Hospital last year, and all that we / he went through in the build up to his diagnosis.
Things have been seriously shit since last November, the worst thing our family has ever experienced! From the amount of time the children were passed from pillar to post and how poorly George was from the side effects of his treatment. I thought that getting to this point with his treatment working, him being well, his hair growing back, him attending school… no wheelchair, no impaired sight, memory loss or any other problems… the fact that he has started to actually read real words in his little school books and he’s a flippin’ fairy ballerina in the sodding Christmas play! I thought I’d be doing the bloody conga into that school playground! But I’m not. I just feel scared it will come back.
It’s not the most positive paragraph to end on for now, the way I feel is going to be fairly common amongst parents in my position and I do keep reminding myself that the chances of relapse are pretty low. For now, I’m going to continue distracting myself, by mithering my friends for brews, eating cake and walking the dog that has a better social life than me. If all else fails you might find me trotting around like a mythical creature with a finger-horn or taking on the alter ego of a root vegetable.