Well, it finally happened. After three months, a wave of homesickness came over me like a dark cloud last night. This hospital stay marks Idan’s fifth. It’s the third one where we are searching for a diagnosis. With every hospitalization comes the fear of not knowing what happens next, what side effects will develop, what tolerance Idan will have for the pokes and probes, and of course, the enormous amount of energy it takes to put a smile on our faces and all push forward together through the raging fire of illness. So when I took a break and went back to our Seattle apartment last night, I broke down. It all came flooding back to me the second I opened the door to the apartment. The wave of sadness at the realization that Idan, who has been looking forward to his grandparents visiting from Israel since before we even left for Seattle, is now confined to a hospital room during part or maybe all of their stay. The frustration of coming so close to getting to go home to New York, to not knowing how this set back will affect the length of our stay. The worry and exhaustion of not knowing why his fevers are persistent and sneaky, as though playing with his little heart strings. The hour Akiva and I spent pleading with Idan to take his oral meds without vomiting, trying desperately to undo and reverse the negative association with taking medications in the hospital, after finally getting him past it not so long ago. How cold and empty our apartment seemed last night without the sound of his chatter and giggles filling the rooms. It felt like hitting a wall.
I broke down so I could put the pieces back together. Remind myself of what we are doing here, remember our strength and all we have been through since the day Idan was intubated in 2013. Piece by piece, reminding myself of all the lows, and how those very same lows led us to all the highs. Idan’s graft is excellent and he is in good health (fevers notwithstanding), and every time he gets knocked down he keeps getting up. It’s no coincidence that Idan keeps singing these lyrics from a Pink song: “You gotta get up and try, try, try, you gotta get up and try.” His resilience astounds me and gives me all the reassurance I need to get up and try.
Today, Idan’s temperature is *hopefully* showing signs of lowering, and his C Diff appears to be in check. And just in time to really raise our spirits, a couple of surprise visitors showed up at Idan’s door this morning – two of Seattle Sounders’ soccer team players. Idan was jumping up and down with excitement! He asked them a bunch of questions (mostly about numbers – how many players on the team, what player has the highest number, you get the picture) and showed off the soccer field he randomly decided to build with his Plus-Plus yesterday. The soccer players were very sweet and found all his questions pretty amusing. Yes, we’re all starting to feel homesick, but it was a great reminder of how incredibly lucky we are to be here in Seattle and at such a great hospital.