Hey, that looks like a sprout!

Today began like any other day. I awoke at 6 to prepare Craig’s IV meds and pills. Two hours later, I awoke again to give Craig his chemo and muscle relaxer. Another hour later, he was due for his fever reliever. But, at 10am, something happened a bit out of routine—at least for this week. I heard him stir, moan a bit, and pinch his eyes. I asked quietly if he was okay and he mumbled that he will be as he reached for his spit-up bucket. The streak of 6 days was about to be broken. He vomited. I grabbed a wet washcloth and kept my hand on his back for support. His veins on his forehead protruded from the retching, his face turned a deeper red from holding his breath. In between vomiting, he noted that he had extreme flank pain and that stirred up his stomach. We analyzed the contents and he pointed out what looked to be blood. I noted that the Tylenol capsule—a drug that is coated in red—was now white and lying still in his bucket. It could be that the red flecks were red dye. He then pointed out with excitement, “Hey that looks like a sprout!” I said, “yeah, we should tell Steve.” Steve, you see, thought Brussel sprouts have tails. Nay, bean sprouts or alfalfa sprouts have “tails”, and that is what appeared in the mucous in Craig’s vomitus. (Wholesome story. One to share with the kids, no doubt). When I mentioned Steve's name, Craig immediately looked to the family room as if to show him. There’s always a teaching moment around every corner.

After measuring the contents, I came back to see if he needed anything. He said, “no…but do you have the paper with the suspects names for the open case?” “No”, I said. [Think fast, Erin].“I think you still have it”. (Playing along is a lot more fun then bursting the bubble). “Noooooo”, he said in a higher voice than usual. “I don’t think I dooooo. I gave it to youuuu.” [Crap! I can’t possibly have lost something in his hallucination. I’m doomed!] Last time I had his Airplane black box of mail, which I couldn’t find either, and he increasingly grew impatient when each black item I held up wasn’t the mystery black box. Finally he settled on his black bag. Whew. But, this morning, Craig clearly had his investigative A-game going, and I was keeper of an important document. I gently patted his leg and did the "South Park side shuffle" the heck out of dodge before his case went belly up and I went to trial. ;0)

Later in the afternoon, Steve and Craig went on a walk while I ran a few errands to get paper tape and more Tylenol. I met them on the 16^th Street mall. Craig was synching up his belt an extra notch while waiting for the light to turn. His TPN line draped casually over his neck, and the blue bag hung off his shoulders. They appeared to be talking and hadn’t noticed me yet. It was a neat moment to see them together and to see Craig outside. He’s lost quite a bit of weight and his complexion is quite pale, but regardless, he stood out as the strongest, most alive man on the street to me.

We walked slowly as his legs were weak and body generally exhausted. One of Craig’s friends happened by, immediately hung up his phone conversation, and walked with us a bit. We walked for about 20-30 minutes and on our way back, a man started harassing Craig about his shoes, saying he needed a shoe shine. Steve and I flanked Craig, and started mumbling back in a protective manner. I could hear Steve say, “Be careful, man”. One thing is for sure—as a friend, brother or son—Craig is dearly loved.