Knee Deep

May 15. 

Miles started his second five-week chemotherapy cycle yesterday--a planned 48 hour stint at Children's Hospital.  He's moving through it with a sense of style and experience.  As usual, he is charming the staff.  There are a lot of smiles, and a sense of appreciation for each other as new paths cross.  His leg pain is well controlled and his nausea is minimal.  If you are taking his food order though, be ready to switch on-the-fly, because peach yogurt can turn into filet-o-fish can turn into strawberries can turn into Szechuan beef very quickly.

Miles is doing his best to mix things up, despite the gravity of his bed and IV pump.  His goals:

 

 

No TV recently, but plenty of chit-chat and a streak of Master Chef episodes on his iPhone.

Ginger ale is typically his beverage of choice.  Water and hot tea follow.  He is responsible about keeping room items in order, since space constraints can turn bathrooming into a steeplechase.  You might expect a lot of complaining throughout this confining, fatiguing, poisonous ordeal, but it's rare.  Miles is agreeable (sometimes with bargaining) nearly all the time to reminders and suggestions.  Occasionally, he crescendos "wait wait wait," or "no no no," or "what are you thinking!" but you can see him downshift from Hulk to David Banner within seconds.  He is working hard, and stopping to smell flowers along the way.

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So, opening day for Oyster River baseball.  Where to begin.  Overwhelming appreciation for the community's support of Miles and family.  Pete, Mike, Butch, ORHS, parents, family and friends: thank you.  Creative, heartfelt, well-spoken, generous, and uniting.  Miles will always remember the how the scene of 2015's first pitch boosted him through the game of his life.

 

 

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Next topic: Rotationplasty