Everyone has been very kind about Isita’s hair falling out. I am glad to report that she has accepted this. Now that most of it has gone she doesn’t seem to mind so much. She likes her hats, and she looks sweet.
As I write this, I am sitting in her darkened bedroom in GOSH waiting for her to go to sleep. Despite the fact that it is nearly 10pm she is buzzing, and hungry. Earlier, she had seconds of hot chocolate fortified with dietary supplements plus a couple of dark chocolate truffles. Now she is asking for bread and honey, olives and dried mango.
I’m desperate for her to drop off, but at the same time if she wants to eat… Also, I am quite proud that Marta and I have got Isita back here in for the second round of chemotherapy in such good shape.
In the past week, she has put on weight and avoided getting the flu which Jamie went down with last Friday. We carried out a manic hygiene regime, a bit of quarantine and did tons of laundry. Even with all this, it felt happily normal if a bit exhausting. I even managed to go back to work.
The nurses are popping in quite often to set up all the drips and Isita prattles away with them about whatever is in her head. She spent the last five minutes telling the nurse who came to check the chemo how “my brain tells my mouth to move and I have to move it”. And so it would seem.
Now, as she pops another kalamata olive in her mouth, she has been asking me what ‘ruptured ‘ means. Apparently someone in the Barbie episode she watched earlier said ‘I think I have ruptured my spleen’. Who knew it could be so educational?
Unfortunately no one else can come in to swap word definitions with Isita for the time being, as the ward is under a kind of infection control lock-down to protect patients against the norovirus that is going around – probably just what we managed to dodge at home.