It’s amazing how much the little things matter.
Of course, we hear that all the time, don’t we? The last 10% of any effort is the thing that makes all the difference. At the Olympic level, 1.16 seconds can mean the difference between gold medal and 9th place. It’s the little things that make all the difference in the world.
And tonight, I’m feeling a bit weird that I’m so excited that we have a hospital room with a recliner. You’d think having our own bathroom would be the highlight. It is nice, to be sure, but it’s the recliner that’s doing it for me.
Davis was admitted again tonight for his 4th round of chemotherapy. We’re on a different ward, the one for kids that have more straightforward treatments. And the room we have for the next 6 days is more than double the size of the first two rooms we were in. It feels like such luxury.
I’ll take what I can get.
I wrote last week on the verge of having a procedure to harvest some stem cells, and that finally happened on Thursday. It was a long and difficult day, but it was successful. Davis gave them about 7 times more than thay needed; you can’t really count very accurately udring the procedure, so we just heard the final number today. We thought we had about double, but Davis is a stem-cell producing machine, apparently.
Some of you have asked exactly what this procedure is. It’s essentially an insurance policy. They harvest healthy stem cells from Davis, and put store them in a freezer. They can keep them for up to ten years, which blows my mind.
We’re planning not to need them, but we’re keeping them on hand just in case. They would be used in the event that the cancer relapses or stops responding to this current chemo regimen. If we needed to go with more aggressive chemo, these stem cells would be given back to Davis to help him recover from those more aggressive drugs.
So like most types of insurance, it’s a rather odd thing: you pay the premium and hope to never recover the benefit. In this case, his premium is blood cells instead of money.
Returning to the routine gets a bit harder each time--Davis knew what was going on when we went into the hospital room tonight and protested vigorously--but I have to say it will be made much easier for Suzanne and I with the room we have this round.
It’s definitely the little things that make such a huge difference.