Isabel had her 8th month off treatment blood draw and check up today. It was a week early, but we were getting situated with only having to be seen by a pediatrician here in town, not an oncologist an hour away in Oakland. That's HUGE. So, in we went and it was pretty weird. It was surreal to be in a normal pediatric clinic, with kids swarming all over the place and the majority of requests were for a flu shot. It took me about a week to make this appointment. It was no big deal, but they literally did not know how to enter Isabel's off treatment cancer check up into the computer. They had nothing that was for monthly check ups and blood draw.I'm used to Oakland's waiting room where the kids are much more somber, some bald, some in masks, always sitting with or near a parent. It's like I'm suddenly back to where I started with my kids, but with an entire new perspective. I took note and was grateful for the crowd of kids with their common needs like shots or their bi-annual check up. I had a little moment when the pediatrician told me some percentages where Isabel is age wise, regarding her weight and height. Those things stopped mattering to me when Isabel got sick. I never heard another word about percentages in the past two years, it was always about the next chemotherapy drug to be given or the next hospital procedure. I'm back to hearing that Isabel is in the 75% for height and will most likely be about 5 foot 6 inches.
I could cry.
The blood draw was not easy or without pain, both emotionally and physically. The phlebotomist, while nice, could not get a vein in Isabel's arm and repeatedly took the needle in and out, 5 or 6 times. It was very upsetting. Okay, maybe she didn't insert the needle that many times, maybe it was more like 2 or 3 times but it sure as hell seemed like a lot though, with all her wiggling the needle in Isabel's arm, trying to adjust it in vain (get it?). Isabel has had so many of these draws, and will have so many more in the next few years. We really try to make these draws as painless as possible. In the past three years we've become quite partial to a few wonderful phlebotomists. I appreciate Oaklands phlebotomist and sing her name every chance I get. She is so quick and professional that Isabel barely has a chance to think about getting upset before it's over. We love her. Unfortunately, she's an hour away. There are some in San Rafael, only about 22 miles away. Today though, we took her to the lab in town because it was the closest, even though we know they don't deal with children's blood draws on a regular basis like Oakland's pediatric laboratory. We crossed our fingers but to no avail. Isabel cried and wailed "I just want to goooo" while she held perfectly still on my lap and the woman jabbed her over and over. Finally she took it out and Alan spoke up. He was very firm and stated that unless she was positive she could get it in one try on the other arm, she needed to get someone who could. She got it in one try on the other arm. I think she was dismayed by Alan's comments and I know she was not trying to hurt Isabel, but believe me, if Alan hadn't of said it, I would have.
Isabel's face was red and tear streaked in the car on the ride home. About a half hour later, she was fine as can be, laughing while eating an ice cream cone and then running over the grassy hills with her two friends the their dogs. She forgot all about it and didn't even mention what she did after school, her head filled with make believe and breeds of dogs.
Over dinner we talked about the grim times we had during the beginning of her treatment. Oh boy, Alan and I remembered how we felt during Isabel's surgery to remove the infected chest catheter. The experience is very vague to Isabel, if not totally forgotten. Alan and I have very sharp and painful memories of that time. Thank God the worst we have to deal with now is a painful blood draw.
We will get the results of Isabel's blood draw tomorrow. She will be off treatment for 8 months. I can not believe how fast time is going now that she is off treatment. I can not believe it's been this long. I remember two years ago, each day feeling like it had been a week, and time just crawling by while she was on chemotherapy. Now Isabel is almost 8 years old and the star of her school play. We're finding the adage "time flies when you're having fun" quite appropriate these days.
I
