I had a little chat with The Boy's primary oncologist. He's a neat guy. The playroom (where The Boy likes to spend several hours a day) is a "medical-free zone," so no doctors or nurses can come in (although obviously if the patient needs something, they leave and come back). He approached the door, and I opened it to see him. He explained that he couldn't come through the door, as there was a force field prohibiting him, a doctor, from entering. Silly doctor.
He was pleased that The Boy's chemotherapy stay has been relatively uneventful, especially given the "excitement" that we've had since last month. The Boy will be receiving blood today and will hopefully be okay for a little while in the transfusion department. He said that they will do the GFR test again before his next chemo unless the creatinine level improves. Could happen, but not likely. The creatinine level, tested regularly as a blood draw, is a decent indicator of kidney function, but the GFR is a more thorough measurement. I'm intensely curious as to why, over the course of having been on chemo for over a year, The Boy had not had such a test before.
All of the chemotherapy drugs that he receives can be nephrotoxic (bad for kidneys). They are getting to the point where they are adjusting his drugs based on how his kidney is actually functioning. He received 50% of both Carboplatin and Etoposide last time and, I think, he is receiving 75% of Etoposide and Cyclophosphamide (Cytoxan). If that is incorrect, I'll correct that information in a subsequent post.
The doctor blew a kiss to The Boy, who returned it happily. The Boy's previous doctor would be jealous. We all liked her, except The Boy would give her the silent treatment until he was sure that she was going to send him home.
Saw an older episode of House last night in which a ridiculously rich man bankrupts himself while his child is dying in an effort to gain good karma, and it works--they figure out that the problem is curable and the child lives.
I'd give up anything I had to for the sake of my family.