July 27\28 Battle with Serum Sickness

You know what I’ve learned?  I’ve learned I don’t know a daggone thing!  Every time I think we’re getting ahead in this fight, a counter attack somehow slips through the sentries and hits us hard.  I’ve learned that we can never take anything for granted.  I’ve learned not to let my guard down.  Ever.

Friday night went pretty well.  Maybe a little too well because it lulled us into a false and premature sense of comfort.  Garrett was almost to the point of being giddy on Friday because we were three days out from his last chemo treatment and thought the soreness and little rash he had was going to be it.  In his words, it was  “nothing I can’t handle.”

The serum sickness he experience in 2010, which was so severe it required additional hospitalization, has been haunting him since we were told they’d have to use ATG again.   ATG (ANTI-THYMOCYTE GLOBULIN) is an antibody that suppresses the immune system, preventing transplant rejection.   What happens with serum sickness is that the molecules lock together and get deposited in nerve endings, joints, bones, skin....you get the picture.   It causes extreme pain starting with the extremities.  Steroids counteract that, but it takes time.  The symptoms mimic meningitis so sometimes it’s hard to know the difference.  It takes about 14 days for this to run its course.  The result is a child in so much pain it’s hard to watch.

Yesterday morning he woke up with a little more rash and a sore wrist and finger.  His finger was so sore that we splinted it during the day because it hurt just to move it.  As the day wore on, he got more and more lethargic.  He said he was just tired.  By early evening, he was feeling very ill.  By 8pm, he was having trouble walking.  The rash was covering his body, hid lymph nodes were swollen and he was running a fever.  His face was the color of bad sunburn.  His arms, shoulders, neck jaw and groin hurt so bad he had trouble doing anything but lying down.  That was the start of a very long 24 hours.  By 10 pm he was crying from fear and pain, then getting mad for crying.  I paged the on-call transplant coordinator and we discussed admitting him for IV treatment of the serum sickness.  But Garrett is so afraid of the hospital that we decided to try oral meds.  They called in some prednisone and pain relief meds to a 24 hour pharmacy.  There we were in the middle of the night buying medicine and hoping it would kick in.  

With the help of the pain killer and pure exhaustion, he finally fell asleep about 2 a.m.   Sleeping fitfully, but sleeping just the same, until the pain woke him up at 430.  I was with him, like so very many nights before.  I was playing Kenny Loggins’ lullaby songs for soft background music.  The same ones we listened to when he was but a few weeks old in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit at the old Children’s Hospital.  As I was watching him sleep and wishing so much that I could trade him places, I was praying that I could take his fear and pain.  I know God is watching.  I know He’s in every breath.   Yet I find it difficult sometimes to understand why Garrett has had to endure so much.   He’s a good boy.  He never has asked for someone else to have to endure this.  He just wanted to be a little boy and do what boys do.  It’s easy to talk about being a “warrior” and making sure we “cowboy up,” but little boys shouldn’t have to, really.  Still, we try to do that.  He met the pain of needles and separation from his momma when he was but a few minutes old.  Since that moment he’s been stuck, jabbed, poked, prodded, cut, wired, siphoned and has dealt with so much heartache and fear.  The whole family has.  Garrett was trying not to cry and with tears running down his face told me he just wanted to go home.  We all do. So much separation from home over the years.  A man with any character would give anything to remove this burden from his family.  I would.

I love my family so much but I’ve made many mistakes through the years while trying to “make up” for the pain they’ve endured.  Everyone has challenges and the journey we’re on follows a trail meant for us.  I realize I can’t change that course, but I can make sure we stop and picnic along the way to give them reason to stop and enjoy the beauty.  That is where my joy comes from.  There were so many times I've stayed awake for hours just to watch them sleeping peacefully and relish those moments when they aren't afraid of anything.

Tonight, Garrett’s finally getting some much needed rest.  He’s not in a lot of pain, thanks to the prednisone and pain killers kicking in.  We all gathered as a family and read scriptures and prayed our night prayers.  The requests remain the same.  But we also thank God for His mercy and the support system we have.   First thing in the morning, we’ll be in the cardiac clinic and determine our course of action from here on.  Once again, we’re claiming victory because we stayed out of the hospital so far.  I’ll take the night watch again and spend some quiet time with God.

There are so many of you who are supporting and praying for our little warrior. God bless you all and thanks again for caring. We can't take the edge off the pain on our own.  We’ll continue to be in God's tool box to use as He needs to accomplish His perfect mission. 

A few years ago I heard a song that I swear was written for and about our situation.  It speaks as if it were my very own voice and words.  I listened to it alone last night, and will again as soon as I post this. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_l09AJ9lXSE&feature=related

Thank you for your prayers.  Thank you for taking the time to care.  It does not go unnoticed. 

God bless you.

JD