Jordan's Journey

Exhaustion got the best of her. Two days at the hospital in the same week. The pace of treatment and logistics and unknowing sapped all her energy. When the alarm sounded at 6am, nearly five minutes passed before she slapped the snooze. I was away, and Jeanette was tired.

Luc woke before dawn. The act of waking early makes him proud. He climbed down from his bunk and dressed as the sun peaked over the San Gabriels to the east. Jordan was still asleep. He sauntered into the living room and enjoyed the quiet as pink light fought the Venetian blinds to invade the flat. Awhile later, his sister awoke and joined him. He fixed their breakfast: toast, oatmeal and tea. By the time Jeanette had lost the battle with the alarm clock, the kids were fed, dressed and managing the morning on their own — thanks to Lucas. He was late to school, but for once his mother was grateful. The boy often rises to the occasion. (more…)

Jordan has been given the week off from school so that her immune system can recover without worrying about the pesky viruses school mates like to pass around. She received a transfusion yesterday–apparently my blood passed the muster. She seems to be doing well, taking naps throughout the day.

Her counts hit the danger zone, as expected. Hemoglobin and white cells are down — so far down that she had to skip chemo this week and she’s not allowed to return to school until her immune system recovers. She has to wear a mask when she leaves the house. Wednesday, she goes back to CHLA for a blood transfusion (my blood was still at the lab today), which will hopefully give her system a boost and restore her energy. (more…)

Update — Jordan did not need a transfusion today, but she will probably need one next week. I am contributing a pint today, which will be ready for her use when she goes in next for labs. Many of you responded to my last email. Thank you. We are putting a schedule together for blood banking. It’s a perishable substance and you can only give once every 55 days. Since it is unlikely she will need blood every week, we’re going to put a grid together and if we find ourselves short, we’ll let you know. Thanks again for your offers and your well wishes.

Jordan’s counts are low. She missed school and slept all day. Tomorrow she will probably receive a transfusion. We are officially starting the blood drive. If you feel like bleeding, please send us an email.

Nearly a year ago today, the greatest team in baseball [yes, I'm biased and prone to sweeping statements] made the playoffs but failed to advance to the big game. October 8, 2004: two games down, the Angels in Boston struggling to stay in the division series, facing the surging Red Sox, a formidable foe, aggressive, crafty and determined to leave a mark.

I sit in a hospital waiting room. Jordan has been in surgery for four hours. A family of five dines on McDonald’s to my right. The scent of chicken mcnuggets unsettles my already sour stomach. Every five minutes, I get up to spy the surgical monitor at the nurses station. Jordan’s name is highlighted in a solid green box, indicating that she’s still in the OR. (more…)

The roast is cooked to perfection. Slightly pink in the center, moist but not raw. The fried potatoes steam over the plate, a faint hint of bacon wafting in the air. My arteries harden as I lean in to eat, knife and fork in hand.

“Let’s say grace.”

Jordan’s brow is peaked with rapt intensity, pertinence spilling onto the table from her ravenous eyes. I lower my utensils reluctantly; the habit of praying long lost. Luc is into his second bite. Jeanette glares at him as she bows her head. He chews inchoately. Jordan continues.

“God, thank you for Max … who died.” Her brow knits as she closes her eyes. “And tell him sorry that Charlie stepped on him when he was sick. Amen.”

We all watch as she deadpan awakens and pleasantly digs into her food. Lucas caps the moment with a smirk and a fourth grade tone, a chunk of roast hamstered in his cheek.

“Ohhhhhh kaaayyyyyy.”

Another glare from Jeanette. Sunday dinner begins. (more…)

She has a dream. A monster chases her around the house, then begins to eat her. She says she stands still while the monster picks at her and it makes her sad. Until Daddy comes and scares the monster away.
Every time she tells me this dream I think to myself, “no pressure!”

But for the dream, Jordan is happy. She doesn’t dwell on many setbacks. She is less moody. And she is much more cooperative when she goes in for chemotherapy each week. Yesterday, she didn’t even cry when they accessed her port. The truth is that while she is emotionally composed, she is physically fragile. Her body is showing the first signs of a compromised immune system. She is pale. She tires easily. And her blood counts are low. (more…)