Transfusion in quarantine

The transfusion Mia and Yaoyao had three weeks ago was in the midst of a snowstorm. As if that was't enough fun for the month, today's transfusion is in quarantine. Due to three of us having Influenza A. Fever, chills, aches, cough, headache, sore throat, exhaustion, and diarrhea all part of Influenza A. Yaoyao, Lianna, and myself all positive. So far, Kate and Mia remained unscathed. Thank you God. We walked into Children's Hospital Boston and were handed masks. Whisked into a treatment room. Droplet precaution sign posted on door, and door closed. Everyone who enters the room has to wear glove, gown, and mask. Our hematologist came down to assess the situation. He decided transfusions can go as planned. Phew. I would have cried if I had dragged us all in here only to have to drive home again. This is the longest I have been able to remain in a position other than horizontal for the past 48 hours. That alone warrants transfusions happening.

With all of this happening, my little one immediately began freaking out, refused to put on a mask. Panicked with seeing us in masks. Panicked at seeing everyone else in masks. Crying softly, and clamoring to me to hold her tight. It makes me think of all of the times she was in China, needing transfusion. Was she scared during transfusions without a mama to hold her? While in the hospitals in China, did she need to wear a mask or did everyone else wear masks? Seeing this today, did this remind her of something? A memory without a clear thought since she was a baby, but a visceral memory none the less? I will never know the answers. It makes me think of the enormity of what my girls have experienced before they came to me. Things they experienced all alone. As orphans. It makes me grateful that now I can protect them as best I can from future trauma.

Blood is now started, and we are in isolation. Mercies have started. Actually, they have been here all along, from the beginning of this latest trial. A friend made grocery store runs for children's motrin and jello. She did this in the middle of Saturday's snow with poor driving conditions. Food and groceries were delivered by a friend from church on a Sunday, before even knowing that I would be unable to move from my bed, never mind cook. My dad made a soup and my mom has been doing pick up duty with the healthy girls. Friends have been keeping us in prayer. Coworkers and friends have been sending texts and offering runs to stop by or run to the stores. Facebook friends have sent constant words of encouragement. A dear friend offered to come relieve me of staying with the girls during the transfusion, so I could go home and rest. An offer I would have taken her up on, if Yaoyao wasn't only 7 months home, and still too fragile in her trust and security. The nurses just brought us dinner, and gave the girls some toys to play with and keep. There are beds we can take a rest on in our isolation room. Just when I think that solo parenting is toughest during times of illness, I am reminded of the village we really do have. The village that sometimes I forget about under the weight of being ill, or when life just seems overwhelming. The village which surrounds me and empowers me to make the right decisions for my girls. The village which makes these life challenges just a tad bit easier.