Amy started running a fever this afternoon, and it was close enough to the end of regular office hours that we went to the emergency room to have her examined. Her fever reached a level of 103.5 (F) before it started coming down (Tylenol to the rescue). A blood test revealed that she was suffering from severe neutropenia, where the number of neutrophils (one type of white blood cell) is too low to mount an effective defense against infection, a not uncommon complication from chemotherapy. She was admitted as an in-patient, and the ER doctor said we could expect a stay of a few days.
Everyone at the hospital was very, well, hospitable. Amy is not one to take things lying down (at least not figuratively speaking), especially when it comes to health issues, and the nurses and doctors were all patient in explaining what they were thinking and doing, and why (and when). That said, I will admit to feeling an emotional surge of relief, hope and gratitude when our chemical oncologist walked into the treatment room -- akin to a western movie when the marshall rides back into town (and not just because his name is Matt) -- and helped us better understand what was happening ... and why.
We were told she'd be there "a few days", but we have frequently encountered optimistic projections from the various medical practitioners we have interacted with over the past several months (perhaps oncology naturally draws optimistic people). Meanwhile, she has a nice, single, spacious room to herself, and can enjoy some truly professional hospitality for a while.