Day- whatever. We're not counting anymore.

Well, we weren't supposed to go to the hospital for two weeks, but every cancer mom/kid knows how that goes. Claire's labs showed that she was a little under what the bone marrow team wanted for immunity, so yesterday we went in for IVIG (intravenous immunoglobulin therapy. Not immunogoblin therapy, which I said a few times before learning how to say it right.) IVIG is an intravenous blood product containing the pooled immunoglobulins from the plasma of between 1000 and 10,000 donors. (Try saying that three times fast) It is given to children and adults who have certain immune deficiencies. It took about three hours to infuse, but Claire tolerated it just fine. Then today, wonder of wonders, she had her central line taken out. Holy cow. In some ways it was more emotional for me than Day 100. Her central line (triple broviac-the Cadillac of central lines) was literally her lifeline. It was how she received chemo, nutrition, and the life saving bone marrow. Taking it out was tangible evidence that her body is functioning on its own. It felt like cutting the umbilical cord. Claire was giddy. She was smiling and cracking jokes all day. And everyone was thrilled for her, from the OR registration person (who has seen us too often and who got chills when she found out why we were there) to the tech and nurses to the surgeon and anesthesiologist (who was also a cancer survivor, and who offered Claire his arm as they strolled to the operating room). Claire laughed about the enormous, "one size fits all" scrubs she was given, calling them billowing and flowy, and had the song Do-Re-Mi from The Sound of Music stuck in her head. The whole surgical procedure took about 15 minutes, and by the time I was allowed into the recovery room, Claire was watching Family Feud and drinking a slushy. As the nurse was going over our discharge instructions and telling Claire to take food slowly, and maybe just start off with something bland, I started laughing and had to tell him that she was already planning to stop at Hires on her way home. She has done this whole anesthesia thing so much that she knows what she can handle. Tomorrow she will take the bandage off and have a very long shower.

David and I have both said to each other, "Did we really just do this? Did all of this really happen?" And Claire. She just goes through things. She just keeps putting one foot in front of the other. She did say today, as we were driving home, that she hopes to get into the dating scene. She never dated in high school. She went to some girl's choice dances, but being labeled as the girl who has/had cancer from age 15 on on top of being quirky (and by quirky I mean awesome) really puts a kink in your social life. Plus, being almost six feet tall isn't always easy as a teen, even though Claire likes being tall. I can't wait until she can start living a normal life and find her people! Not having tubes coming out of her chest is definitely a start. I will leave you with my favorite thing that Claire said today, "I do love me a good fried green tomato!" Ha! Happy Wednesday!

             Back in our familiar room. Thanks to everyone who donates blood!

          This dose, according to the pharmacist cost a couple thousand dollars.

                    Fun and games in the OR registration area.

                         Goodbye, central line. You've served us well.

        Have you ever seen anyone this happy about going into surgery?

           All that's left is a bandage, a few stitches, and one more battle scar.

 She hasn't had a fountain drink or fry sauce since November, and they tasted GOOD!