Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Monday the 30th- Radiation Planning

We are currently sitting in post-op listening to Gabriella's heartbeat on the EKG monitor waiting for her to wake up from general anesthesia.  Today was her planning session for radiation, which is scheduled to start next Monday.  They built a mold of her so she will be able to be placed in the same position 27 times while she undergoes her daily radiation doses.  It was a pretty easy day really.  We got her up around 7:00 and whisked her out the door and into the car.  Ronnie and Mel came to be with Bridget for the day so she could sleep in.  It all went seamlessly.  I don't think it will ever be any easier to watch her go under general anesthesia.  She is waking up now and we should be on our way home shortly.  They initially told us it would be at least a couple of hours but they were done in 45 minutes.  It gives me confidence that the radiation oncologist is on her game.  We can't wait to get this part of the treatment over with.  Another milestone.

Team G


Today went about as seamlessly as it possibly could have as Adam stated above.  Things got done on time and easily.  We were planning for at least a full day but it ended up being about 4 1/2 hours.  Believe me, this is a short day when you include a procedure and anesthesia.  G was amazing waking up and soon after she was drinking he coconut milk and we were ready to go.

It's funny how this cancer life invaded our world so viciously but is becoming a part of our "normal" life.  We just do because we have to.  When you have to wake up thinking about what medicines are due that day, wondering if the hospital will be ready for you or if they will be faced with some kind of emergency that will set everyone back, not being sure if you will be able to come home that night or if plans need to be made for an overnight, the constant scouring the room for cough's, sneezes, and colds just to make sure your kid won't walk in the same line of air the sick guy just went through, constantly wiping everything down and making sure little hands are sanitized then finishing the day with sorting through endless insurance papers, researching online about pediatric cancer funding and being shocked at what is not available, trying to figure out the best way to make a difference for all of these kids fighting cancer, making lunches for the hospital the next day and ending the evening with giving my child a shot while she sleeps, and checking her later in the night she for fevers.  It doesn't stop there.  During the night, there is a constant worry that she will come down with a fever and constant "planning" on what to do if she does.  When you wake up the next morning, it starts all over again.  And it's automatic.  There are moments of panic after we realize we've just let our guard down by a missed hand cleaning or swapping cups only to be fervently back "on guard".  It is still odd to me to say "my daughter has cancer".  When I hear myself say those words, I often shutter.  Is this true?  Can this be?  It's still mind-blowing.  I have to stop and collect my emotions before I can continue.

There is something to be said about living in the moment.  Yes, we all need to plan for future necessities but the incessant worry...is it really more important than enjoying our lives and our children right here, right now?

1 comment:

  1. It puts life in perspective in an instant. This is the gift it does give to you. And soon you will be able to say, "My daughter beat cancer!" and remind G every day of the incredible obstacles she overcame at such a young age...with incredibly supportive parents, of course! ;) Take a deep breath and keep up the great work!!