Dipping our toes back in...

We both got back to work on Monday, Lyric went back to school for the first day in a week, and we took Aria to her first outpatient chemo appt appointment today.

The half-week in review:

Work: My right-hand, best-employee-ever accepted a new position exactly two days before all hell broke loose in Aria's bone marrow two weeks ago, a fact that was reflected in my inbox today. No problem. I can handle it, it's work. To do lists, distractions, forward momentum. Sally forth!

Lyric: Into her lunchbox I snuck a Happy First Day of Spring note alongside a tiny health-ified brownie -- low in sugar and made from black beans (and actually yummy, if you can believe it). Her lunch is *always* healthy, per mom's and school's rules. Straight-Arrow Lyric ran that illegal Brownie right up to the teacher to inform on her mother for placing dessert contraband in her lunchbox.

She saved the brownie for after school. But sheesh, I know which daughter won't be sneaking the weed brownies into the dorm party. (And we're pretty sure we know which one will.)

Aria: When I revealed that she had to visit the doctor today, she cried that she needed to bring her soft blanket and giant puppy...because she assumed she'd be sleeping there again. :(

Then she asked if she'd "at least get mac-and-cheese there?!" Alas, dear child, no noodles await you. Only a needle to the chest to pump some toxic Vincristine into your veins.

News upon our arrival at the clinic was even less appealing than the menu options.

Until today, each of Aria's tests results landed in the "as well as can be expected" column of a long, long checklist. She had the "better" kind of cancer (lymphoblastic), the "better" kind of cancer cells (B), and a host of other "it's so bad, but it's good!" results.

Each minor victory kept her eligible for membership in the "Low Risk" group of childhood leukemia patients, where: Low Risk = 95% of Patients Cured.

Her most recent test counted the remaining number of cancer cells, those anarchists strong enough to withstand the first few rounds of chemotherapy. In just a few patients, all but  0.01% are annihilated. Those "lucky" children may be classified as Low Risk and are more likely receive the least toxic drug regimen.

So, Aria is no longer "lucky" (What? She's not lucky? Really? No mirrors or ladders for her.)

Her blood demons measured in at an oh-so-close .011% percent,  thus bumping her to th "Standard Risk" group, where 90% of patients are cured.

I've not reacted to this news. I probably won't react. I feel like I should. (I'm aware of this being a "No-Shoulds" zone, but I'm not yet fully android and bound to emote now and then.)

See, I've known all along that right up until Day 28, she can get bumped all the way to the Very High Risk Group (where odds can dip as low as 32%), no matter how promising the early test results have been.

Consequently, I've put her in the "Very High Risk Group" mentally as a placeholder. It's the  safest place for me in my head. After all, I've had quite enough surprises this year (where Year = Lifetime).

Still, I wouldn't have minded half-heartedly pretending she was in the Low Risk group for a while longer.