I had plans. His ANC (the first-defense cells) need to be above 200 to leave the hospital, and 500 to go home, home. Previously (with all other Rounds) he'd be about 100's on Tuesday and above 1,000 on Wednesday. It was nice to know we'd always go home on Wednesday. Clockwork is wonderful. So when he was still 0 on Tuesday, I figured that we wouldn't be able to go home on Wednesday, but Thursday for sure. Wednesday's ANC was 48, so I knew they were going up. Again, previously they were low one day, fine the next, so I packed my bags last night in anticipation of today's departure. I got slapped in the face at 9:00. His ANC is only 90! We are not going home, we are not even getting discharged!
So many times I've thought this Round felt so much longer. Maybe it was sleeping in a different place each night, or the surreal admittance just hours after our fist-bumps, or the endless fever watches, or even knowing that the next Round was scheduled a day sooner. Either way, I have felt more trapped, more hopeless, more tired, and especially more frustrated this time around. To hear that I would be away from my kids longer was like a knife. It kills me that their first official day of summer break was spent playing without me. So much of the last few months have been spent without me. I do not like that!! I want to be with my kids!!! And so does Caden.
Our first construction experience together came with our first home in Casper- the green house. We had such a good time designing the basement how we wanted, working side-by-side, and seeing our home transformed because of our own hands. As the finish day came closer, I found myself getting more and more frustrated with things upstairs. Where one would think I'd be happy to be done, I found myself being bothered by items I knew would be moved downstairs as soon as we could. It felt like my house was more crowded than ever, that we were tripping over things that never bothered us before, and I couldn't wait to be rid of their presence. It was as if we knew how wonderful it was going to be, so we resented the time we had to wait. That's how it is for me now.
I know we are almost done, I know that it could be worse, I know that we are just being cautious, and I know that things are pretty darn good for the Dirks' family, but I am bothered!!! I know how wonderful life is going to be without cancer. I know how wonderful it is going to be to be with my kids 24/7. I know we are going to get back into life, arguing and all. So right now, on the cusp of his LAST Round, I feel frustration, and anger, and hurt, and mad, and tears, and depressed. I just want to cry. I just want to run away. I just want to be mad! Boiling, raging, punch-the-wall mad. I just want to be DONE!!!
I know one day we'll look back on these few months and see just how short our time was here at Seattle children's. But at this moment, with this childlike temper tantrum (kicking and screaming), I am just not wanting to see reason, not wanting to think rationally. Sometimes I want to act in a way that would earn me a time-out if I was the mother of such a child. Because a time-out is what I want. And, frankly, what I need.
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