Rainbow Birthday
Once again this year, we got away with a joint birthday party for the girls. I am not sure how much longer they will go for that, but this year held many rainbows and a whole lot of fun.
Bright and early the next morning, Anya and I were on our way to Children's Hospital for her oncology check-up. They want to see her every three months, with every other one of those visits including an MRI. Thankfully, this was just the check-up. It is so minor of a visit that it hardly seems necessary, but I know that there is a reason they do things the way they do. Since Anya's blood counts returned to normal last February, they have not done anymore blood work on her. It is very similar to a well-child check-up at the pediatrician's office - eyes, ears, throat, belly, lungs, heart. Then they ask her to hop on one foot. One of the chemo drugs she had can have a side effect where the feet get droopy. Typically this happens only in the time period when she is receiving the drugs, so she always had to hop when we would go in for chemo, and she still does now. She never had this side effect and has always been able to hop just fine.
They have been working on a large addition to Children's Hospital for many months now, and Anya is always intrigued by it. My answers to her questions about why they are building it bigger never quite satisfy her, so she asked Dr. A yesterday. Her response was that more and more kids are getting sick and needing to come to the hospital, added to the fact that more people are living near the hospital. When the addition is complete, the oncology ward will double in size. Anya accepted her answers easily, yet for me, it made me queasy. I remember when Anya was diagnosed, Dr. A telling us that each year, they get approximately ten new cases of Retinoblastoma, with three of those coming from Colorado and the others coming from surrounding states. That means that since Anya's diagnosis, there have likely been thirteen other children diagnosed and treated right in the same rooms and halls we have walked so often. I wish there wasn't such a need for the hospital to grow bigger, yet I am thankful that we have had this state-of-the-art institution full of the most caring human beings I have met. It gives me some relief to know that although other families have similar battles as ours, they have a winning team behind them just as we do.
Bright and early the next morning, Anya and I were on our way to Children's Hospital for her oncology check-up. They want to see her every three months, with every other one of those visits including an MRI. Thankfully, this was just the check-up. It is so minor of a visit that it hardly seems necessary, but I know that there is a reason they do things the way they do. Since Anya's blood counts returned to normal last February, they have not done anymore blood work on her. It is very similar to a well-child check-up at the pediatrician's office - eyes, ears, throat, belly, lungs, heart. Then they ask her to hop on one foot. One of the chemo drugs she had can have a side effect where the feet get droopy. Typically this happens only in the time period when she is receiving the drugs, so she always had to hop when we would go in for chemo, and she still does now. She never had this side effect and has always been able to hop just fine.
They have been working on a large addition to Children's Hospital for many months now, and Anya is always intrigued by it. My answers to her questions about why they are building it bigger never quite satisfy her, so she asked Dr. A yesterday. Her response was that more and more kids are getting sick and needing to come to the hospital, added to the fact that more people are living near the hospital. When the addition is complete, the oncology ward will double in size. Anya accepted her answers easily, yet for me, it made me queasy. I remember when Anya was diagnosed, Dr. A telling us that each year, they get approximately ten new cases of Retinoblastoma, with three of those coming from Colorado and the others coming from surrounding states. That means that since Anya's diagnosis, there have likely been thirteen other children diagnosed and treated right in the same rooms and halls we have walked so often. I wish there wasn't such a need for the hospital to grow bigger, yet I am thankful that we have had this state-of-the-art institution full of the most caring human beings I have met. It gives me some relief to know that although other families have similar battles as ours, they have a winning team behind them just as we do.


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