Andrew got a fever early yesterday morning that broke that evening. It's almost expected during round 4 and certainly not uncommon during any round up here. Nonetheless, they're crazy about prophylactic antibiotics (with reason), so they did vancomycin for 48 hours, and we're back on the fortaz (ceftazidime). Man, seems like we can never get away from that stuff. He has really been recovering well even though his counts took a nosedive yesterday and today. From Thursday to Sunday, he was on hydromorphine (which is quite a bit stronger than morphine) every 2 hours because every 4 hours just wasn't cutting it. I'm so glad that part of everything is over and he's not in any overt pain. I'm also so grateful he never stopped eating (or rather drinking--he stopped eating solids). I feel so lucky for how well he's done, and it was a huge burden that my mother-in-law lifted by taking nights at the hospital for an entire week. That woman's got stamina.
I keep thinking about Kim, and how suddenly it seems like she left us, and I still don't believe she's gone. I really feel like we lost one of our own. Just remembering how the pit of my stomach sank when my nurse came in that morning and said that I'd better go in there and say my goodbyes. Every nurse I've talked to says they're going to her funeral. Every single one I've asked. They all say the same thing--how she just took a place in their hearts and never left. They all keep saying "you can't help but love her." I feel the same way.