The following is an excerpt of my conversation with the fellow in clinic yesterday:
So...umm...what do we do next?
"There will be scans."
How often will she have to be scanned?
"For a long time."
How long?"Very long."
How many years?"Many years."
Like, 5 years?
Maybe more?"Maybe until she's 10."
Well that cleared things up, Doc.
5 down, 0 to go. Let today be the first day of
We walked around Duke Gardens afterward. Daniel picked up a stick (he must always carry a stick whenever outdoors) and repeatedly informed me, "Look, Mommy! I have a big stick!" But he can't exactly say the "st" sound; it comes out more like a "d." If only he would learn to speak softly while carrying said big stick.
Today, I pumped Eve full of Zofran and we chilled out around the house. Before bedtime, we asked Daniel to clean his room. Aww...
Smart move, Dan. I, too, would just quit and pass out before even trying to tackle this toynado that apparently touched down in your room.
Search seemed a little disappointed that Destroy called it a night so early.