This arduous journey we are on is filled with inevitable highs and lows. People are always asking how “we” are doing and although for the most part I am fine; I cannot hide my feelings of attrition while aimlessly wondering through each and every day. Work is merely a blessed escape, a place to hide from reality as we move hour by hour towards resolve. Home leaves me running around trying to appease everyone while getting absolutely nothing done in the process. The carnage left behind I fear to be my children. Although showing no signs of weakness along with praising my personal efforts whenever we check in at night, I often ponder what their reflection of this moment will become years from now. Will their recollections be filled with bravery, honesty, and fondness for a valiant effort put forth by many loving, caring friends and family? A summer filled with day trips, adventures and playtime accompanied by freedom from parental rule? Or will they only remember a summer where no mother or father were present a majority of the time? Night after night of no one to kiss them goodnight, tell them how very proud we were of any small accomplishment casually swept under the rug through absence? I wonder, my heart hurts, and panic grips my thoughts as I have no control over any situation they may find themselves. Or maybe I am just thinking too much?
My oldest is doing a great job, the kids are constantly singing the praises of super, duper big brother Cody; it does bring me some comfort in the man he has become. But day after day I smile, I hold strong, and act like nothing is happening for the only ability I hold to express any feelings resonates within the stroke of a key. It is probably nothing, my uncontrolled daydreams of disaster happening without me present, strung together from the woven fabric of a long storied career, centered on assisting others during disaster. For my spinning, crazy mind the boogie man hides around every corner waiting to spring into action. He prays on the weak and unattended, and although my oldest is an adult with more than adequate skills to handle any trouble that may arise, through my eyes he is ten years old with a squeaky voice asking for my help and I am not there.
I miss my wife, I miss my friend, and I even miss her being terse with me for something stupid that has sprung callously from my mouth. (which if you know me is frequent) I miss her kiss. Leukemia sucks. It has been 4 weeks since I have been allowed to kiss my wife. (Definitely been taking that for granted!) 4 weeks! Now don’t get jealous but truth be told, one kiss from my wife can erase a month’s worth of fret, anger or sorrow. I know, you’re jealous anyways, you just couldn’t help yourself huh? Its ok, but she is mine, so get your own!
That is how I am doing. That is what’s spinning around in my brain on a minute by minute basis.
The good news is how Jacy is doing? Jacy is slowly getting better!! Her white cell count is stabilizing, the constant fevers of 101-104 are now holding steady 99-101 (yes that’s a good thing)! She is still very uncomfortable from added fluids in her cells. This comes from bag after bag of fluids added to help with a bleeding bladder! So there is roughly 20-30 pounds of extra water weight on her at any given time. This added fluid is extremely uncomfortable and at times painful. Jacy is still having problems with severe nerve pain to the point a physical therapy team has begun working with her on a daily basis. Being the stubborn Cuban woman she is, nothing is keeping her from trying to walk the entire circumference of the quad. Chairs strategically placed around its outer perimeter have assisted her with this feat! She called me yesterday to announce she made her first full lap! It hurt like hell, she struggled a bit, but she made it and felt like she finished a marathon! Her lips and throat have been saturated with sores and as of yesterday most of her bottom lips inner skin had sloughed away, leaving raw exposed nerves. This is all part of recovery as the white cells are learning what is foreign, foe or friend within its new host.
Word on the street is if she loses the temperature spikes, the bladder stops bleeding and she is able to walk a little more consistently without so much pain, they will turn her loose to outpatient care. Outpatient care requires living within 30 minutes of Stanford in case of a recovery reversal such as high fever, difficulty breathing, an infection of any kind or onset of GVHD (Graft Versus Host Disease). This of course means she moves into her dad’s apartment close to Stanford where her family will assist with her recovery. It also means once school is in session our family will make the journey every weekend to spend much needed time with her.
When I spoke with her today her spirits were high! She feels as though she is finally turning the corner and is looking forward to making it out of the hospital signifying the next step in recovery.
Thank you all for the continued prayers, support and love. The Franceschi clan is very grateful for each and every one of you!
May God bless you all, as together we watch my awesome wife Kick Cancers Ass one more time!
3 thoughts on “How “we” are doing.”
God Bless Jacy. God Bless the Franceschi family.
Thank you Brent and Debbie! Your continued prayers mean the world to us! 😃
I think of you all so often. Hugs!