In early September I take Pearl back to Primary Children's Hospital for a couple of final tests. Unfortunately, it will have to be over the course of at least two days... they won't do the various CT scans and the Esophagram on the same day. Something about the radiation and the putting under, and the swallowing of stuff, and the needing to be fasting, and the blah, blah, blah, medi-yakkity smak... the nurse who set up the appointments wasn't 100% sure. I have been calling these tests the "glamor shots" for the surgeons portfolios; and it may in fact be just that. But it's also a true follow up that will give them the (hopefully) final look at the healing of her throat. I don't think anything is wrong. It helps that she has been growing like a happy little weed.
I don't think anything is wrong. Still, I worry. I cannot help it. I worry.
There has been none of the stridor (noisy breathing) that had us tap dancing for a year. Ummm, except for the cold that she has right now. I actually resurrected her nebulizer three days ago, to help with her breathing. But I think that it's just the cold. I think that it is just the cold. But I have thought a lot of things through this pediatric extended episode of House M.D.
I want this to be the end.
Worry: The last time she had CT's done? She was one sick-sick-sickity little girl. She was having her allergic reaction to the drugs, but they thought that her surgical site was infected; or worse, her esophagus. When they put her under (she was screaming and flailing) for the CT's she stopped breathing twice. They were ready for it, and had a nurse standing there with one of those squeeze-bulb masks that forced air into her lungs when she couldn't do it herself. While I know that she is better, and I know that even if it happens again, they'll be ready like they were when it happened... there is something uniquely horrifying about your child's breathing being compromised like that. Heart-stoppingly horrifying.
It has been months since we were there in the hospital for the hard stuff. I don't want to go back. But I don't dare NOT take her back for this, and both tests suck. They suck big time. Anesthesia for the CT's, and strapping her down with a feeding tube down her nose for the esophagram. Screaming and fear involved with both, and no, I don't think that I am borrowing trouble when I predict this. The girl screams and cries piteously when she sees someone wearing scrubs.
I wish we could just do it all in one brutal day, and have done with it.
September 5th... September 10th... you'd think this would be a cake walk after what we have been through.
She's going to be fine. She's going to be fine. We are all going to be fine, we just need to finish this. She's going to be fine. Of course we are all going to be fine.