Homecoming blues

Well the high is over already. The good things don’t last long. It’s back to feeling sorry for ourselves again.

Back at the hospital Joe was a relatively healthy kid in a ward full of really ill ones. A small fish in a big pool. Now he’s the only ill kid around. A big fish in a little pool. And we can only compare him with Joe a month or two ago. No, just a month ago. And the comparison is scary.

But he is getting his sense of humour back. Sort of. He still doesn’t laugh at anything I do, just tells me to go away and stop irritating him. Quick learner, maybe.

Blimey that chemo does you in, though. I just looked up the side-effects of Vincristine: vulnerable to infection (knew that), hair falls out (fair enough), stomach upsets and vomiting (OK …), constipation (oh), possible bleeding gums (oh dear), bruising (er), blurred vision (what?), tingling hands (eh?), problems walking (woah, that’s enough), speech difficulties (oh, just stop). It’s not a placebo that’s for sure. And that’s just one of the drugs.

Actually all the chemo drugs do similar things. He’s had vincristine and methotrexate so far. Starts mercaptopurine (?) next.

And Joe is suffering the side effects: his legs gave way 3 times today. He couldn’t walk up the stairs and he couldn’t climb into the car. We rang the hospital. Apparently the Vinc weakens various bits (knees and ankles). Joe’s squeaky voice is another side-effect: the Vinc weakens the vocal cords. He has once or twice complained about fingers and eyesight, but hardly at all. This is really scary now. And we’re taking him back to hospital tomorrow to have some more.

And we thought it was bad leaving him crying on the bottom step for hitting Sammy or turning off the landing light when he wouldn’t stay in bed (well it felt bad when he wailed). He hasn’t even done anything wrong and we’re doing this to him.

Give me that Parenting Contract. I want to read the small print …