Day 21: Not quite a light... but perhaps the reflection of a light

We just met doctor number four up here:  Dr. Meeker.  Cool guy.  Only a year older than me.  I find that kind of sick and wrong that these brilliant doctors are so close to my age.  They all need to be much, much older. Darn.  I guess that means I'm getting old.
But I digress.
Dr. Meeker has a reputation for getting kids out of here and at home.  He told me even thought it is risky (infection wise), he believes they flourish in their home environment as long as the parents are careful and competent.  Guess I meet those stringent qualifications because he is hopeful to get us out of here sometime Friday after Chemo.  Whoo Hoo.  Trying not to get excited or anything... but Whoo Hoo.
Kean's counts continue to creep up.  He's at 170 today. Once again, his "counts" are the soldier cells that kill germs-- if that helps clarify things.
In our home, we play a game with the girls to get them to tell us a little bit more about their days at school.  It is called "the Rose and the Thorn".  They have to tell me a rose - something good about their day and a thorn - something bad about their day.
So here's the rose:  my friend Angie S. came up and spent the night last night with Keanut so I could go home and be with the girls on their first night home from the Family Reunion.  It was great.  The little chicks talked non-stop and were bubbling over with details of their adventures.  I slept like a rock at home. I don't think I moved one bit from eyes shut on Monday night to eyes open on Tuesday morning.  The girls and I got up early and picked - get this- about ten gallons of blackberries.  My mom and Byron came and helped too.  The girls have decided to save half of their berry money for a Disneyland trip in 3 plus years when Kean is done with his Chemo and half will go for children's Cancer research.  They came up with that themselves.  So proud!
Okay and here's the thorn.  It is now after 5pm and Keanut hasn't had anything to eat since breakfast.  He is on another forced fast... something that is just too darn common in here.  He was supposed to go under between 1 and 2 pm to get his central line cleaned up and fixed (it is oozing again).  But now it seems like they have decided to do a PIC line instead since this one is giving them such heartaches.  Poor boy has been crying and biting his fingers for hours.  He doesn't want me to touch him-- so I'm writing this and trying to will the doctors and nurses to get in here and get him.  The super sad news is they came and got us an hour ago.  Started setting us up in the surgery room, then had a kiddo a few doors down stop breathing.  So we were escorted back to our room to wait.  Personally, I think they got tired of hearing Kean cry.
So here we sit:  waiting, waiting, waiting.