Chapter 25 #2
“We have the X-rays back,” Dr. Byrne said as soon as she stepped in. “Unfortunately, it seems that Max has pneumocystis pneumonia, so we’re going to want to be incredibly proactive on that and fairly aggressive.”
“Pneumonia?” I asked in shock. I’d had that once in my life, and it had been a bit of a recovery, but I hadn’t had a compromised immune system. What was that going to do to my son?
“I don’t mean to be pedantic, but I want to stress that this is pneumocystis pneumonia, not regular pneumonia or walking pneumonia.”
Of course. Of course, my son who had already suffered so much had to have a special lung infection too. “What’s the difference?” I asked calmly even as my mind spun with everything I needed to do.
For one, I didn’t care how bad the gas bill got, I was cranking the heat when we got home. Also, it was definitely time to haul his humidifier out of storage. What else? What did somebody do when a kid had pneumonia?
“PCP, as we often call it, only happens to those who are immunocompromised—people with organ transplants who are on immunosuppressants, people with HIV/AIDS, or…” She paused, heavily paused, and despite everything I knew what she was about to say.
“Or people with cancer,” I supplied.
“Yes.”
My breathing picked up even though I was trying to keep calm so Max wouldn’t wake up.
“I know this is difficult, but there is a greater chance that he is still in remission and this is just because his body is still recovering in many ways.”
Okay, so it wasn’t an immediate cancer sentence. That was… that was good.
I swallowed hard. “What do we do now?”
“First, we’re going to treat this. We’ll be able to use trimethoprim as well as a steroid.
I’ll start his first dose of Bactrim—that’s the brand name—here in an IV along with a bunch of nutrients to help him with hydration.
We’ll have him on the Bactrim for three weeks, and the steroids will be every day for the first week, then as needed after that.
As always, please notify us if any of his symptoms worsen. ”
“Why do I feel that’s not all?”
“Because it isn’t.” I liked Dr. Byrne a lot.
She was kind, but she didn’t sugarcoat things.
She was blunt, almost to a fault, and that worked for Max and me.
“If he’s improved after the three weeks, I want him back in for a CBC, more X-rays, and possibly a bone marrow aspirate.
If his cancer has returned, or even migrated, I want it identified early so we can treat it as soon as possible. ”
“Of course, of course,” I murmured. God, I wanted to fall apart.
But I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to because Max needed me, and I’d promised him he could always count on me.
Considering the streak we were on, I wasn’t about to break that now.
“I’m… I’m gonna wake him up for the IV now and explain what’s going on.
But…” I licked my lips, trying to think if what I was asking was what a good mother would do or my own fear talking.
“Let’s hold off on the cancer talk until he’s had some medicine in him for a few days. ”
“I understand and agree that would be best. Sometimes Max knows a bit too much for someone his age, so let’s not pile it on, shall we?”
“Agreed.”
“Perfect. I’ll step out to give you time to bring him up to speed, then send in a nurse to set up the IV. I’ll come speak to Max toward the end of his drip. Do you have any other questions?”
“No, none for now.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you later.”
I nodded and gently roused Max. He didn’t want to wake up, but once he realized how serious it was, he shook himself awake.
Bless his soul, he didn’t freak out at all.
He said he was happy there was medicine and didn’t mind an IV as long as he could sleep.
I knew that something like pneumonia seemed like small potatoes when he’d already had to deal with several years of cancer before his tenth birthday, but still, I couldn’t help but be impressed with his ability to look on the bright side.
Because it didn’t feel delusional, like some of the poor folk I’d met in the various medical buildings I’d been in, but just… very, very brave.
My little man. My big guy. I didn’t know where he got it from, but I was ever so grateful he had it at all.
I stayed right by his side until about halfway through his IV before the nurse encouraged me to take a moment to myself. I reluctantly stepped out of the room, but then I remembered that there was someone who no doubt would want to know if Max was ill.
Three someones, actually.
A little dazed, I called Remy, surprised when he answered on the first ring.
“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern.
“No, but how did you know?”
“You always send photos of the book haul. I texted you about an hour ago, but you didn’t reply.”
Had it really been that long already? I glanced at the clock.
Between getting Max ready and masked up so he wouldn’t get other sick kids even sicker, traveling, the check-up, the X-ray, and waiting for the results, four-and-a-half hours had passed.
Fuck, neither of us had eaten. Thank God for that IV, because Max needed all the extra nutrients he could get.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” I wasn’t used to having anyone to talk to about these things, so I decided to just get it out. “Max and I are at the cancer center now. He has pneumonia.”
“Pneumonia?” Remy’s voice blared through the phone. Strangely enough, it made me feel a bit better about the whole situation. His freak-out justified the fear swirling in my belly.
“Yeah, a type that only happens when someone’s already pretty sick.” I debated how much more to say, because there was a very scared part of my brain that told me verbalizing it would make it come true.
Of course, Remy picked up on it. He was always observant that way. Probably because he actually listened. “Already pretty sick?”
“Mmm-hmm. They’re saying it could just be his body recovering from what he’s been through. Or, uh…” I tapered off, half hoping that he would say it for me, but in what world would he reasonably do that?
“Jeannie? Are you still there?”
“I’m still here. But they’re saying that it might also be a sign that his cancer is back.”
“I—oh God, Jeannie, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. What do you need? I can be wherever you are in thirty minutes.”
“No, no. He’s getting an IV now, and he needs a three-week course of medicine.
I know that you can’t get sick, but I don’t want to risk any sort of mutation or infection getting to your girls.
Besides, as soon as his IV is done, I’m taking him home so he can pass out. Poor boy is tired out of his mind.”
There was a hair of hesitancy on the other side of the line, as if Remy wanted to argue with me, but I was very grateful when he didn’t.
Instead, he heaved a sigh. Not a weary one, or one that felt aimed at me, but the kind of sigh someone let out when they were looking over a complicated situation.
“Okay. If you’re sure. But you know I’m here for you if you need it, right? You’ve already been through all of this before, so I know it might be old hat to you, but I promise you don’t have to go through it alone this time.”
He was kind. So truly kind. As much as I couldn’t picture what it would be like to have someone helping me out, I believed Remy meant every word.
“I’ll keep that in mind. But for now, I need to cancel all our dates and the playdates. I’m sorry, I know the kids were looking forward to the zoo crawl, but it’s just not possible right now.”
“Hey, nothing to apologize for. I’ll go ahead and tell the girls. And maybe, if Max starts feeling better a little early, we can do some sort of Zoom call and stream a movie together. That way, he won’t feel so alone? No kid wants to be cooped up inside for nearly a month. Especially not Max!”
“Yeah, maybe,” I agreed. Three weeks was nothing compared to the two and a half years of active treatment we’d gone through, and yet it still felt like an impossibly long time. “I’ll text you once we’re home safe.”
“Please do. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later.”