Eve's latest obsession is Ni Hao, Kai-Lan! For those of you not in-the-know, Kai-lan is a Chinese Dora who cavorts with emotionally immature animals. She teaches kids practical words you can use on your next trip to China, like "hello" and "dinosaur." What would make this obsession suck slightly less would be to actually have cable television and not just a DVD with the same four episodes on it. But, in perspective, it's not cancer, which sucks infinitely more than most things besides Barney.
Ni hao, hem-onc! Did you miss us?
Eve was understandably much happier to be entering the children's center instead of the rad-onc side. The big fish tank at the entrance was apparently a sight for sore eyes. Eve found the fish of her dreams, gave him a big kiss and a hug through the thick glass, and then started conversing with him. "But why, fish? Why are you swimming in circles?" And the fish opened wide and began to mouth his answer. Unfortunately I could not hear it, but whatever he said seemed to satisfy Eve.
You gotta hand it to all those fish in the tank talking to themselves. They really seem to be having some deep conversations. After all, if you can't talk to yourself, who can you talk to?
Upstairs to get accessed. The port is really mean looking lately; the Emla turns the site fire engine-red and all kinds of scary bumps appear. Six days in a row of accessing it for radiation has not done the skin any favors. No time to get too worried about that, though. Two minutes to get downstairs for an echocardiogram!
Well, maybe there was some time since we got to sit in the waiting room for a good 25 minutes. The radiology reception area is right across from the gift shop, which is home to buckets full of loose candy. At the eye-level of a two-year-old.
Strangers will buy you candy if you are bald.
The waiting area is full of things that have the potential to be fun. Like, dollhouses and train tracks. The only way to reach said potential is to actually have trains or dolls and furniture for said toys. I do not like the qi of the waiting room lately. The empty dollhouse has given up hope. Please buy more toys for the bald kids, Duke.
Eve finds the echo quite relaxing. She lies back, arms behind her head, and doesn't move for the next ten minutes. In fact, slap a pair of bad sunglasses on her and it could have been Weekend at Bernie's 2. I can only assume that everything is a-okay with her heart since the tech did not rush out of the room to find a doctor. I am beginning to learn this is a good sign. Eve gets a Beanie Baby for her superior chillaxing skillz and we are sent on our way.
Back upstairs for chemo. Beanie Baby goes overboard, ending his short life. We are happy no one was under the kamikaze bear. His body lays on the first floor next to the empty dollhouse.
Counts look good. Chemo is ordered. We floor the docs with news of the new bilateral case. Docs still maintain Wilms is not contagious.
To pass the time while we wait for the pharmacy to make up the poison, Dr. Wechsler shows us pictures on the internet of tumors cut out of patients. I ask for him to find out if the pathologist took pictures of Eve's kidney. If I can get my hands on a picture, we will have very interesting Christmas cards this year, for sure.
And we go back to the port once the internet is exhausted from my morbid curiosity. The docs think it's just irritation from all the accessing and tell us to watch for pus. Pus Watch 2010 is on.
Eve falls asleep in my arms. The nurse cannot get a blood return. Oops! The needle has come out of her port. Thankfully Eve sleeps through this and is not screaming in pain. Those nasty bumps must have been hypnotizing since we all stared at them and did not notice the needle coming out of place.
Eve wakes up during her Zofran drip and we turn on Kai-Lan. Seriously, these animal friends of hers have deep-seated anger management issues. I can get past the sordid tiger if he helps Eve stay still for the drugs, though. You don't want your kid leading a Zumba class while she's hooked up to a few feet of IV tubing. Xie xie, Kai-lan.
2 down, 3 to go.
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Guess what, Christy? Kai-Lan is no more entertaining on Direct TV. They all seem to boil down to the same thing. But at least when Granddaughter McKenna (same age as Eve) is "jibbering", we now know that she may actually be saying something. Best of luck to you guys. In Love and Prayers from Friend of Becky Bower--Connie Johnson
ReplyDeleteI am firmly convinced that the group taking care of waiting room toys in hospitals is the I HATE CHILDREN AND WISH TO TORTURE THEM Association of America. In the surgery waiting room at LW's hospital, the only toy they have is a kitchen with fake food. This for children who are NPO.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, do you know about "press and seal," for use over the emla covered port? Doesn't help with the emla irritation, but at least they don't add insult to injury by having to peel up an adhesive bandage before accessing the port.
Oh, and best part about cancer? Dealing with telemarketers or door to door salespeople. Bwahahahahaha. Although not having to go to the Container Store for a while because you've amassed a collection of great looking pink bins is right up there.
"This is going to be just like senior year, but FUNNER!" -- Legally Blonde
Connie- so they might be jibbering...in Mandarin? AWESOME!
ReplyDeleteLittle Warrior's Mom- I agree. That association must be hard at work at Duke. Usually when we are in the radiology reception area, Eve is NPO. And there are those candy bins about 20 feet away, just daring her to come take a look. We do use the Press and Seal for the emla. I wish they could use it as a dressing once they are at the hospital!