So the Devil has a glandular problem. (Yes, yes, I know this sounds like the lead-in to a terrible joke, but if it IS a joke, it is indeed terrible. Read on.)
The problem is, her glands - specifically, the ones on the side of her neck - are swollen, and HAVE been swollen, for well over a year. In fact, more like 2 years. We first noticed them 2 Junes ago when they erupted, Frankenstein-like, during what turned out to be a bout of strep. Antibiotics, and the strep went away. The swollen glands did not. The doctors at that point noted that often it can take much longer for such swelling to go down than it did for it to come on, and not to panic unless there was no change (or an increase) after several weeks. But - they went down. Not all the way, but a lot. So, fine.
Repeat this scenario time and time again.
And since no one was particularly worried, and her health was otherwise fine, we were reassured.
Now about a year ago, we got a new pediatrician when our beloved former pediatrician moved to Texas. [Insert "dumb old stupid Texas" comments from Spongebob, here.] We love her, particularly because she refuses to sugar-coat, refuses to panic, and is not one of those here-lemme-just-prescribe-a-bottle-of-something types. She believes in home remedies, in sometimes waiting to see, and in mother's intuition. So, yay.
And today, on yet another follow-up for yet another bout of swollen glands, she announced that although she is 99% certain it will be a colossal waste of our time, she wants us to make an appointment for the Devil with the Juvenile Hematology and Oncology Dept. at our local major medical center.
Oncology.
As in, cancer.
As in, HOLY SHIT ARE YOU CRAZY?!? DON'T USE THAT WORD WITH ME I'LL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN HOLY SHIT AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGHHH!!
So, yeah. I'm handling it well. The appointment is May 3. And I know it will likely turn out to be nothing.
But.
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When R was in the NICU on a vent (because something went wrong during his birth but no one really knew what happened or why he was on it or how long he would stay on it or when he would get out of the NICU or what the repercussions of this would be, yadda yadda yadda), I felt like I was drowning in the if this, then that and if that, then this of it all and it sucked monkey balls. So I hears ya, sistah. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other, mañana es un otro dia.
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