Kristy's last turn

It's my last day in Houston visiting the MD Anderson Cancer Center. And once again may I just say how surreal this experience is. Especially since Josh looks and feels so well. How can he be as sick as his blood counts say he is when he and I are laughing hilariously as we watch Psych? How can dangerous, aggressive chemo drugs be dripping into his PICC line when he hasn't thrown up once or lost his hair? But he is. And life in Houston continues for the Walton family. Dealing with a diagnosis of a rare form of leukemia.

So, for the details from the feminine perspective (however, they may be muddled as I am sleep deprived); Josh is just down to 2 chemo treatments a day-10 in the morning and 10 at night for only about 30 minutes each time. That allowed him to walk yesterday several times. Which only occurred with much threatening, or I mean encouragement. He and I spent the day together as Brian and Ilene and Sarah went out to lunch and to run some everyday type errands. (Although Ilene and I may not have gotten to the hospital until around noon). I slept in the hospital last night while Brian and Ilene were able to stay at the Ronald McDonald house. Ilene said Brian got to sleep in. Which I'm glad for as once he's spending the nights in the hospital again he will not get sleep. It was quite noisy last night and early morning here in the hospital. Ilene dealt with insurance companies and the business side of leukemia once again this morning. And I got to sit quietly while Josh slept and Brian went to his class on the care of the PICC line. Josh should be done with his chemo on Saturday morning and should be released to go somewhere on Sunday or Monday. Brian is working hard with the doctors to get him to go home. If that is not possible, because of how close he needs to be to a hospital, then at least to Amarillo. He will be home for about 4 weeks and then will need to return to Houston for another round of chemo. How long that round will be will depends on the results of his labs and another bone marrow biopsy. Wow. Craziness.

And now I head home to tightly hug my 3 children, who are teenagers and a preteen and will not appreciate it at all. And to hold my dear friend in my heart and shed my tears away from her. For I do not know how a mother handles this. Except to know our Savior and rely on him. I may have to go back and read Brian's thoughts once again.