Shortly after loading E onto the bus with her scooter this am, I received a call from the kidney specialist's office. We had a cancellation, the scheduling secretary says. Doctor L can meet with E tomorrow morning. Do you want the appointment?
My mind's racing at this point. Meeting with Dr. L tomorrow rather than January 4th gives us that much more time to do any of the tests he'll need in order to "clear" E for surgery. Not that we have a surgical date yet, but I'm still holding out for the sometime-in-January date the lead surgeon gave us. And meeting with Dr. L means there's one less hurdle on our end to scheduling something.
"I think that might work," I answer, then tense as I scan the family calendar for tomorrow's agenda. Shit. Tomorrow's the school field trip. The one to the glorious theater production of "A Christmas Carol" at the Paramount.
E missed nearly every field trip last year because of illness. But this year's she's been on a roll. She's been feeling great. Tomorrow was a go. She was looking forward to her first outing of the school year with friends.
Poor E.
My inner Eeyore moans at this sudden change of plans; but, knowing E, she'll probably see the trip downtown as an excuse to seek honey.
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