One bruise. Giant, multicoloured, but painless. The groom-to-be wasn't so lucky.
Dominic hasn't played paintball. We get scared if he hits his head on something while standing up. Yet his body is littered with little black-and-blue marks.
That's what happens when you don't have platelets.
When he first started getting transfusions they could've come from anybody, and he only needed them once a week. Then his body started blowing through the platelets and we had to match him with specific donors. Four days. Three days. This week it's down to every two days. He'll be re-tested today with the hope we can find a better set of matches.
We came in once last week and his platelet count was two. An average person's count would be in the hundreds. So the bruises are no surprise. They're not as much a concern as what we can't see.
The lack of platelets makes the leukemia in his brain at greater risk of causing strokes or seizures. And then there's the other blood counts. The leukemia is growing exponentially now. Blasts of cancerous cells that numbered 0.04 or so a few weeks ago were 5.47 on Monday. His bone marrow is recovering and the cancer is coming with it.
All we can do now is try and slow it down. That means oral chemotherapy drugs, which thankfully we can get in Medicine Hat. These aren't drugs that will kill the cancer; it'll just slow it down.
At the same time we have to do more about the platelets than simply find better donors. So he'll get a blood product known as IVIG. He's had it before; it aims to stimulate more production.
If this push and pull seems confusing, believe us, we aren't sleeping well about it. What if the IVIG makes the leukemia worse? But that's what our doctors suggest, and we trust they're doing everything they can for Dominic.
We aren't sleeping well. The night before a trip to the hospital, Trish can't manage to turn her brain off. When I come home part-way through a shift at work to spend time with him I can barely keep my eyes open. Even he's been more grumpy this week, throwing tantrums at least twice a day. Part of that is the fact he's a two-year-old, but there's probably more to it than that.
Still, for most of the time he's still the happy, smiling boy who brings joy to everything he does.
Maybe that's all we can hope for. At this point, I'm glad for every day I can wake up and kiss every one of those tiny bruises.