Hot For Chicken In The ER

We're in the ER. In the middle of yumilicious pizza dinner from Tomato Pie, Pablo said that his bump hurt.

So, we left Francine and Grady and the Three Bs - Beth, Butch and Bo - at the dining room table and ran to CHLA with Polly at our side.

The concern was that his tumor may have ruptured. He went down the backyard slide rough a couple times before dinner. And the dogs bumped him a couple more.

Two docs exammed Pablo, and determined that he's OK. The pain could have been the chemo killing tumor cells (they explained the exact science of it; I'm not gonna attempt to duplicate the info here lol).

The main thing is, he said the pain had stopped, and all his vitals checked out.

So, we're in the green zone. Safe and sound.

A funny aside about the doctors and nurses at CHLA that, I have to note, Jo Ann verbalized before I did (don't want to get myself in trouble): the majority of the medical professionals we've dealt with are, in Jo Ann's words, "hot."

Polly agreed. Immediately. And added that many of them have nice pants.

I asked what I should title this post. Somebody said "Hot for doctor."

Pablo shouted out, "Hot for chicken."

And he wins!