Today started off with some unnecessary stress: I called for a shuttle from RMH to St. Jude in what I thought was plenty of time, but after waiting a while, I decided we would just drive the car and valet it.  What I had forgotten was that the car was in disarray: stuff needed to be taken out and the car seat installed.  

By the time I got all that done, we were late getting to the hospital and had missed our first appointment.  Then, we stressed as we waited for his carboplatin infusion, worried that a delay would be compounded if he were late for his radiation treatment.  He was to go straight from radiation to the OR for port placement, so things had to stay on schedule.  We finally did get the infusion, and the child life specialist explained to Alexander what his port was, using a doll with its own port.  Alexander had fun playing doctor with the doll—he gave it lots of meds to compensate for all the meds he’s been forced to take.

We got to radiation just in time, signed consents, and got him off to treatment.  We had a few hours to eat and go back to the room, since he had surgery and would stay under the whole time.  I spent the time sorting through and putting away my clothes.  Christy came back after a trip to the store, and soon after that, we got the call: Alexander was done with surgery.  But there was an issue: being under anesthesia so long had caused his right lung to collapse partially.  We were so worried especially after yesterday.  Nothing to be concerned about, said the anesthesiologist… but only after saying that he had a collapsed lung.  Christy and I wished she had said “nothing to worry about” BEFORE saying “collapsed lung.”  It definitely caused us to worry.

Alexander stayed in recovery for an extra hour and was fine.  The anesthesiologist getting our consent beforehand spent considerable time going over the meds that could ease his transition out of anesthesia… I don’t think the anesthesiologist in PACU got the memo, because Alexander was angry and inconsolable.  Christy did an amazing job getting him to eat and drink while Mom, Dad, and I sorted out our dinner and retrieved his pain meds.

He’s now asleep in his bed.  Let’s hope he sleeps well.  Tomorrow will, I hope, be a better indication of what a normal treatment day will look like.  I’m glad today is over.