Jamey woke up with a lowgrade fever today. He had a fever last Wednesday also, which is a bit worrisome for me (although the docs don't seem worried). They think he's battling some type of virus. I have to take his temperature every 4 hours, and if he continues with one, he'll get a very strong antibiotic. I hope Jamey is feeling better by tomorrow. I hope he doesn't end up in the hospital.
One of the mothers on my ALL list-serve wrote about how it's been documented that many parents suffer post traumatic stress syndrome when this is over, and I can totally see that. The ups and downs of living with this (along with the everyday stresses of life) are unbelievable. It's hard to see Jamey feeling so poorly, to constantly worry about the possibility of a relapse (because that is ALWAYS in the back of my mind) and the late-effects of the chemo, to know that there is very little I can do for him. All this weighs on mine and David's minds heavily.
Another person on the list-serve wrote this poem.
> THE LITTLEST SOLDIERS BY Cheryl Jagannathan, mom to Robby Putnam, dx'd 1/93 and still a fighter today..
>
> The medals on our chests
> Are broviacs for meds
> Helmets won't stay on
> Cause no hair is on our heads.
>
> Our weapons of destruction
> We take every day
> We fight the battle within us
> While we struggle on to play.
>
> We fight with honor and courage
> No marine could do as well
> We are only children
> Living in this hell.
>
> So bring on the medals
> The purple hearts of wars
> The gold cross, the silver star
> To place upon our scars.
>
> For we are the children of cancer
> No one has fought so hard
> But every day we struggle on
> Our life is our REWARD!
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