Friday morning

So thankful for a mostly peaceful night last night. The methadone, ativan, and morphine cocktail made Watts feel better and he slept most of the night. For a couple of hours before he fell asleep, he laid peacefully in his bed as long as one of us was lying beside him, hand wrapped around his back. Even with sedation involved, it was sweet time. Before all of this began, I (Michael) had been reading a book by Jean Vanier called Becoming Human. In the first chapter, on the subject of loneliness, he writes:

"We were all conceived and born in littleness and weakness. We could do nothing by ourselves. We depended totally on our parents for food and for protection; our greatest need was for their enfolding, protective, and stimulating love. Children cannot live and grow without that love. For a human being, love is as vital as food. When children are loved, they live off trust; their bodies and hearts open up to those who respect and love them, who understand and listen to them. They begin to blossom."

I kept telling half-asleep Watts that we LOVE him and that we're not going ANYWHERE. That we are with him in this for the LONG HAUL. Things that go without saying, but we are saying them anyway. I want him to hear those things all the time.

In addition to the "comfort drugs" I mentioned above, Watts' new chemo routine, which began yesterday and will continue for 15 more days:

Daunorubicin (yesterday and today)
Vincristine (every 6 days)
Dexamethasone (daily)
Cytarabine (daily)
L-asparginase (starting in a week)