Received a voice mail from the surgeon's nurse while shopping for supplies to keep on hand during our stay at the Ronald McDonald House.
Here's the gist of the message:
Hello, Kim. Sorry to call you again. I was going through your daughter's file today, organizing all the clearances, and need to know what you know about the results of the CT scan ordered by the pulmonologist this fall. The anesthesiologist needs to know about the test, why it was run, and what you've learned. I hope it's not a red flag. Please call me back.
I flipped shut my phone, and shoved a bag of buns into the cart. Okay, right. She's talking about the test that was run but wasn't technically ordered. The one that was supposed to be a chest CT only, but somehow ended up including the abdomen, too.
And found something.
Only a little something, according to the ordering physician. But here's the thing. The doc downplayed it. Said we could look into it after surgery. He wrote the surgical clearance. Shouldn't that be enough? Please let it be enough.
Since keeping a viable cell phone signal in our Jewel is nearly impossible, I returned the call on the drive home. And couldn't help but speak out loud my hope that surgery wouldn't be cancelled because of a question the anesthesiologist could have asked early last week, when the clearance was first faxed.
I used to love roller coasters.
edited to add:
On the way to the hospital with E to do a liver function test. Words to describe how I feel about this zero-hour test or the reported need for yet another clearance from the powers that be before the procedure's a go would be inappropriate to print here.