“I’m pissed I have to do this, Mama.” Those were Ky’s words on the way to Boston yesterday. I’m pissed he has to do it too.
For Cappy, the pissed has passed. He’s here. And he’s doing it. Today was the first day of conditioning, Day -8. His new marrow will be given on Day 0. Between now and then, he has a significant course of high dose chemotherapy and other medications to rid his body of its own marrow and prepare it for the donor cells.
For most of our trip down Interstate 95, we followed a tractor trailer. On the back of the cab was the word “Blessed”. I had Cappy take a photo. If that was a sign, I’d take it. It probably chewed up time, but I chose to follow that truck as long as we could. Who am I to pass a message like that?
For a mama and her guy, who are both incredibly tentative about a big hospital in a big city, we’re okay. Well, I’m okay because he’s – amazing. No surprise there, really. His IV pump is three times the size of the one he hauled around at Maine Med and he has more tubes coming out of it than I can count – but he negotiates a small ‘alley’ between his bedside table and a chair like a pro. This morning he was asked to work on a list of things that he wanted anyone who entered his room to know/follow: please make sure Mama is with me when you want to talk to me about something, please ask if I want to talk about home or not because sometimes it makes me really sad, and please limit the number of medical people in my room at one time. For Cappy, that bit of advocacy is a pretty big deal. He also asked that he have some way to share his jokes with people who work here as laughing makes him feel better. (Today’s joke: Why didn’t the toilet paper cross the road? It got stuck in a crack – no shortage of bathroom humor with this guy…).
As part of our intake, a nurse asked Cappy if he knew why he was here. He looked at her and said “…because you’re the best in the country at this and I need that right now.” I think she was more looking for “I’m here for a bone marrow transplant…”, but – she got Cappy, true to form.
Mighty is the battle; mightier, still, is my boy.