7:30 a.m. is our call time this morning at the Radiology Lab.
From the jump, this scan has been our first major goal. When we get there, Pablo will down a couple pints of contrast fluid. It looks and smells like Hawaiian Punch, and has to be consumed over a period of 90 minutes. Who knows what it actually is. It works and, to a five-year-old, it's yummy with a capital Y.
Once Pablo is highly contrasted, we get called in to the donut scanner room. He lays on his back on the motorized, sliding table. Jo Ann goes behind the glass where the technician sits. I don a lead-filled jacket, and hang out in the active zone with Pablo. I try to take his mind off of the immense machine, by singing silly songs about squirrels, talking cupcakes, snakes with feet, or anything that i can rap to the tune of our family fave "Hammer Time." That always gets him.
Usually, this fool in the rain shtick only has to go on for a few minutes, until the technician talks to us through a tinny speaker built into the ceiling. It's like getting instructions when you're in a police line up. Not that I've ever been in one, but you know what I mean––that kind of thing. The tech usually says, "Hold your breath. Don't move." And then the table slides into the whizzing and whirring CT machine. Just the kind of scene a little kid wants to be perfectly still in, right? Pablo is quite good at it though. He holds his breath, with his cheeks puffed out like one of those dudes from Nemo. Cuteositous Maximus. And he gets that I'm not moving look too. It's one degree to the left of I didn't do anything.....
I'll try and take pix. If we're having a good time, it'll work. If he is sketched out, I won't do it. While all this is happening, Jo Ann is in the cockpit with the tech, asking as many questions as she can, to get the full picture on what is happening. And to be certain they are getting what they need. The last thing we want to do is go back in for this scan cos they didn't get the full area. We have no clue how long we'll be at the hospital today.
Hopefully, we will be eating lunch on the outside. That is a good goal. Then we wait for Dr. Mascarenhas to read the scans, and confer with his colleagues if necessary, to determine the status of the tumors on each of Pablo's kidneys. He will be in touch with us before the end of the night to discuss his read of the scans. We need your thoughts, light, prayers, meditations–whatever you do–like, all day and all of the night.
The minute we get off the phone with Dr. M, we'll post the news. Thank you, we love you, and we can feel you wherever you are. xxoxo from all of us.