Phin Update: The Dodging Viruses Edition

I (to exonerate Dustin and make clear who's taking guilt--it's me, Neesha) take full responsibility for what I'm about to share.

In early March before Phin was diagnosed with AML, I signed the girls up for their most favorite camp ever. Av had gotten sick last year with a severe case of mono that landed her in the hospital for a few nights and had been unable to complete the camp. For a ten-year-old, who'd landed herself a sweet speaking and singing role at camp in her first ever show, it was devastating. Her mono, which some of you may recall, had been initially hard to diagnose since the test kept coming up negative. She'd been to Urgent Care and the pediatric ER, to the pediatrician at least twice before his concerns for her airway closing prompted him to ask the newly opened Children's Hospital to direct admit her instead of going back through the ER until they could find out what was wrong. They determined, despite the negative test, that she did have mono, the rapid test was "trash" and she had some of the most extreme symptoms they see: enlarged spleen that caused back pain, high fever, extreme weight loss, enlarged tonsils that were being kept from closing off her airway by a steroid. They were in discussion about an emergency tonsillectomy. It was bad. The whole thing, at the time, was pretty traumatizing for her and for us (little did we know it was just a warm-up) and, truth be told, she had some PTSD and lingering effects for months. (Insomnia because she was afraid to fall asleep and wake up gasping for air as she did when she had mono; lethargy that lasted through the start of the school year; so little energy and strength that she couldn't walk halfway around our lake to the pool; lots of crying from fear of the mono returning...for months after the major symptoms subsided.) She was uncertain of whether she wanted to return to the same camp she'd been at when she fell ill (despite us telling her again and again that she'd definitely contracted mono well before the camp even began). Just talking about it brought back some of the mono trauma, so when she determined back in early March to return, to set aside her anxiety and try it again, it felt like a big step in her overcoming her trauma and I wanted to encourage that momentum. 

But this was all before Phin's diagnosis or, The Before Times, and Covid seemed under control.

Av painting her way through her
mono hospital stay
Summer 2021

So she--and Obelia--returned to camp this year, and Av landed the lead role in the show. For Av, it felt like the ultimate win over her trauma from the previous year. Before camp ever began, we discussed the importance of safety not just for us, but, especially, for Phin. I told them I'd be wearing a mask around them, that they should always wear one, too. The girls worked hard on their roles at camp, diligently wearing their masks and sanitizing their hands. Av had a sort of mantra that every day she lasted at camp was one day longer than she'd lasted the year before and brought her one day closer to performing on that stage in this dream role she had earned. Obelia, for her part, was a typecast "les filles 3", laughing and smiling and googly-eyeing Gaston like a true silly girl. Both girls were cautious because they knew, in addition to keeping their brother safe, that caution alone would guarantee they'd be well enough to perform in the show.

Les Filles 3 and Belle

This decision to send them to camp--any camp right now--may have been a mistake. Hindsight is, indeed, 20-20. I believed our precautions would keep us safe. I wanted to see Av conquer her fear of returning to the camp she once loved and her trauma from her extreme bout with mono. These girls have been rock stars throughout their brother's treatment and I wanted to give them the gift of normalcy, a break away from the house their brother isn't home with us in and where they only get to see one parent a day, and each of those parents only every other night. This camp they love so much felt like the perfect way to offer them something to be happy and excited about without having to sacrifice the little bit they do get to see each of their parents. I truly thought that if only we wore our masks and sanitized our hands, we could keep us all well and let them be semi-carefree kids for a few weeks.

But this is 2022 and if we've learned anything from the last three years, it's that we cannot really keep any of us safe from anything. 

On Sunday evening, Av and Obelia both tested positive for Covid.

Both girls are doing well. Av had some congestion, which prompted me to test her. She has always been plagued with allergies so, in truth, we both assumed that's precisely what was happening but she willingly and helpfully sat for the test under the assumption it was an extra precaution (I regularly give myself a test if I'm feeling rundown or have a runny nose, too, and they've been negative since that one time in December...). Let me tell you, her positive popped up faster than a pimple the morning of prom. Obelia, with zero symptoms, also took the test and popped a positive just slightly longer than it took Av's. I was negative. Dustin, who was at the hospital with Phin at the time, was also negative. He hightailed it to an undisclosed safe haven, far away from our house, to wait out the CDC's recommended 3-5 days of quarantine after exposure; I am at home diligently catering to the two Covid Sisters who are isolated in the master bedroom with the TV, an iPad and a designated bathroom. At least one of them is trying to eat every single piece of food we have in the house; the other doesn't have as big of an appetite. They only sounded like they might kill each other once, when they had to change the sheets together because someone spilled something on them.(I cheered them on outside the door and told them it was an excellent team-building activity to embark on in their quarantine.) Their symptoms, thankfully, are very mild. As I write this blog two full days after their positive tests, I can report with some relief that Dustin and I are both still negative. Most importantly, this means Phin is, too, and neither of us unwittingly exposed him to Covid.

You must be wondering by now: but, what of our hero? What of our Phantastic Phin whiling away the hours in the hospital with nary a parent in sight!?! Well, look no further for your answer:

If you don't already know her, meet Aunt Seale (everybody say "HI, AUNT SEALE!") who happens to be the literal BEST, most fun person for a newly-minted five-year old to get 48+ hours with. She is patient, loving, amazing with kids, an incredible special ed teacher and an incredibly devoted and loving aunt to this lucky little boy. Plus, she's Covid-free (how's that for a cherry on top?). She has been in her house, slaving away on her graduate school coursework most of the summer, which means she has had no exposure to the outside world OR the viruses waiting in it. Most importantly, when I called Seale, frantic on Sunday night and began to explain the situation, she said exactly nine words: "What do you need me to do? I'm ready." (Back off, peeps, she's a catch, but she's taken.)

After a negative Covid test, a shower and a quick pack, Seale whisked off to the hospital and has been loving our pint-sized hero ever since. The relief and gratitude I feel explodes forth every moment I think of her there with him: safe and loved (which means I'm exploding all over all day when I'm not running things up to the Covid sisters and leaving them outside their door on a chair for them to retrieve AFTER I've gone back down and yell up that it's safe to open the door...with a mask on). When she gets out, be sure to shower her with love and coffees because she was thrown right in with no time to prep or adapt, and has earned every bit of love and coffee (and anything else her heart desires) that we can give her. Meanwhile, if you have her number, blow it up with words of love, thanks and encouragement. Living in a hospital is no joke. We are eternally grateful.

As for me, well, I'm facing the reality that our caution is not enough and the sacrifices we've made or asked our girls to make will only increase for the safety of our Phin.When the girls and I talked Sunday night, through the bedroom door, in addition to Av asking if we could homeschool or do virtual school to keep Phin safe in the fall (new questions of safety precautions we have to consider)--we all agreed: sacrifices we make now could help mean the biggest payoff of our lives: a healthy, homebound Phin for the long haul. 

I am keenly aware and humbled, with a great sense of guilt, that the weight of that lesson could have come at a much greater price.

Phin is still in count recovery. His body appears to have made some platelets and has "a" neutrophil  (immune system's first line of defense), so we are expecting another visit home--or somewhere else that's safe--in the near future.

I am grateful for Phin's continued protection and I attribute it to the love and support and countless good vibes and prayer of our village; clearly not to my questionable choices. Please keep them coming!