RTU

Critter's labs came back and his counts are up which means it is time to move on to the next round of chemo. Today, Thursday, we had a clinic appointment which basically consists of some vital signs and a couple of doctors listening to his lungs and asking me how my week off was. The nurse came in and gave him some anzamet before the LP for nausea. Then we go to the RTU. RTU is the rapid treatment unit. This is on the first floor by the ER. Dallin was once admitted here for antibiotics when he was a baby. People who are staying for less than a day or two get to stay here. They also have a little hallway where they do small surgical stuff like LPs and Bone marrow aspirates.


We go and meet a nurse who makes sure he hasn't eaten and that we understand what is going on today. We wait while they assemble "The Team" basically the attending doc, this time our fellow (a doctor who is doing extra residency in a specific area in her case she admitted us and is following our case so we know her well), an anesthesiologist, and special lab people who handle the bone marrow aspirate. The anesthesiologist meets with us and asks again if he has eaten (I am usually asked about 6 or 7 times before the actual procedure happens)and leads us back to the back room. The room is like a mini surgical room. I get to hold him while they hook up one of his lines to fluids and then while they push in the medication to make him sleep. I have to hold his head because before the syringe is empty he has gone completely limp. It is always amazing to me that seconds later his lips are blue so I always set him down quickly and the anesthesiologist will give him oxygen and other gases to keep him asleep. I kiss him goodbye and leave until they come to get me.


At first this made me nervous and I sat outside worrying about everything. This time I came prepared with a book and a coke. I have done this almost ten times so I know everyone in the room where I left him, even the many recovery nurses. A lot of times I sit out there with other parents and we talk. Today it was a father of a three year old girl. I could hear her screaming, not in pain, but angry because she had just woken up from the anesthetic. He explained that they were in their first month of treatment for ALL. She was on steroids which among the many awful side effects, make you hungry. She had not been allowed to eat since last night in preparation for her LP and was starving. I listened to his story and was once again reminded of how lucky we are. When his daughter came out of the recovery room carried by her mother she looked pitiful. She was bloated and swollen from the steroids and was quickly stuffing crackers in her tear stained face. She will be treated for the next two and a half years.

We are so lucky. It is always sad to have something like cancer declared on your child but we are hoping Critter will never even remember any of the pain. My heart goes out to these families with slightly older kids. Many times I have chased Critter around our hospital room, tried to keep him from putting everything in his mouth and tried to get 5 minutes of peace with various movies, I have thought if only he was a few years older I could hand him something to color or we could watch movies. Then I see kids that are older and I am reminded that they will have memories of lost summers spent feeling rotten, scars with the remembered pain that came with them. At these times I am so thankful that Critter is young enough not to remember any of this. If we can stay in remission it will only be a bad memory for his parents and he will never think twice about that evil word cancer that causes so many kids so much pain.