Peaches and Potato Chips

Last summer

Part 1: Potato Chips.

Clio is becoming a salt and protein gobbling fiend. This is a very typical side effect of the steroids she’s on (dexamethasone, specifically), and will continue to be on for this first 28 days of induction therapy. (We’re on day 12 now. So, 16 more days in the hospital. Sigh.)

We were warned that the drugs would start giving her a crazy appetite, and cravings for things she may not have wanted or even liked before. We were warned, but I think we just thought, sure, sure. That’s other kids. Not our tiny little picky little eats-like-a-bird slip of a daughter. Indeed, for her first week and a half on the juice she didn’t eat a whole lot at all.

But now it’s kicking in — and hard.

Clio is eating like a stoned frat boy. She wants chicken nuggets, hot dogs,  mozzarella sticks, french fries, potato chips, pizza and bacon. There are a few not-quite-so-bad things on her preferred menu, too: pretzels, yogurt, rye bread, English muffins, scrambled eggs, and pasta (but preferably with globs of butter or pesto).

I mean, it’s insane. This morning for breakfast (so far): 2 bowls of yogurt, two snack-cups full of shredded cheddar cheese, pretzels and two snack-cup full of potato chips.

Worse, she’s not allowed to eat fresh fruits, which she loves in real life (real life. ha.) because she’s neutropenic. That is, her “good” white blood cell count is so low that her body can’t fight off infection. So if, say, she ate a peach that happened to be bacteria-ish*, or washed with ick* water, it would be very, very bad. (*official medical terminology)

It’s really weird to hear a five-year-old demand potato chips with the cranky urgency of one of those mythical, demented pregnant women who crave pickles and ice cream at midnight. Oh, and not just any potato chips. Yesterday, she specifically requested “the kind with the lighthouse on the bag.” Jeez. Uppity, right?

We do try to offer her healthier choices. (Pretzels? Please?? Wheat crackers instead of chips? Grilled chicken? For the love of God?) But it seems to be losing battle. Especially since the other side effect of steroids is insane mood swings and irrational anger/sadness. So we’ve basically got an adorable little Jose Conseco on our hands. Fun.

I was talking with one of our favorite nurses today about how much it pains me to let her eat like this. She said she understood, because we normally make healthy choices. For a lot of parents, she said, this part isn’t as hard because this is how their kids eat all the time (just in lesser quantities). But really, she said, it’s a losing battle. And it’s going to set up a not-so-fun dynamic if we try to fight her on every request.

Our Dana Farber-trained, groundbreaking research-doing hematologist/oncologist concurred. “There will be times in the next few months when you will be begging her to eat, and when we’ll be prescribing appetite stimulants to counteract the nausea and decreased appetite that come with the kinds of chemo she’ll get.”

In other words, when she wants two Marie Callender’s frozen pizzas and four servings of Cape Cod potato chips for dinner plus Cheez-its for dessert, go with it. It’s only for two more weeks.

Part 2: Peaches

The other day I was home with Elsa and my aunt and ran out to the grocery store for a few things to bring back home (Elsa has been with her grandparents — one set and then the other — over the past couple of weeks, but now she’ll be home) and to the hospital. (See: junk food, above).

It felt very strange walking into our usual Stop & Shop, simply because it was so normal. Like, life before leukemia two weeks ago (has it only been two weeks??) normal. And normally, I’d have put together a big list with ingredients with meals for the week. And one of the girls might have been with me. And we would all eat dinner together that night. And nobody would have cancer.

In the produce section, there was a huge row of just peaches and nectarines. Beautiful, perfect, blazing orange-yellow-red summery peaches and nectarines. And I found myself suddenly on the verge of tears.

I guess because they said summer, and sitting in the backyard and juice running down our arms. They made me think of the vacation/visit to my parents in Maine we were supposed to have this very week. (Last year we did the same, and I remember eating tons of fresh peaches and blueberries and other summer fruits). I was aware that I couldn’t bring any to Clio due to the aforementioned risk of bacteria-ishness* or ick* water.

The rest of the trip through the aisles, and coming home, too, was unexpectedly difficult.

I missed the four of us, at home, and well.