We busted out of Hopkins on Tuesday. It is Saturday now. At first, this round seemed to hit Patrick a little harder, a little more nausea, a little more fatigue. He is on some nasty antibiotics to (hopefully) prevent any infection. Our coffee table is littered with prescription bottles. Audrey and Robert came to visit for a day. He helped put up our poolside umbrella. It's the little things that don't get done until somebody thinks to help and then it's, wow! I wish I had done that earlier! Everyone offers to help but I never know what I need and nobody can give My Handsome Prince what he needs. He always says he "ain't never gonna be right" in jest but occasionally I can see in his eyes that he might actually believe it. It's rare but real. Once I told him "that's ok, you are perfect for me".
We were preparing for neutropenia, packing up and going to Baltimore on Sunday. Beebe is fine but Hopkins staff is comfortable and comforting. They know us. They know his history. He doesn't have to repeat it a million times.
But today, Saturday, is a good day. We have decided to throw caution to the wind, enjoy our time at home, hopefully enjoy some visitors (though someone will have to wear masks, whether it be them or him), and make the trip if and only if he gets sick.
The end is in sight, of the treatment, of the season, of my job. I try not to put too much into the end but some days I can not help it. I am ready.
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