The scope of MD Anderson was incredible - an entire complex devoted to cancer treatment. We got a little lost at first, trying to sign in at the Orthopedic Desk before we were redirected to the Sarcoma Center. After meeting with the business office to set up Alan as a potential patient, we found a quiet waiting area. People on the sarcoma support list had warned us the wait would be long - two hours in the waiting room and another two hours in an exam room to see a doctor. They either exaggerated or we were there on a slow day - it was "only" two hours of waiting total.
While we were waiting for an exam room, we let Alan wander around a bit since he had spent so much of the last 24 hour stuck in a car seat. He went up and down the hallways, in one direction towards one set of elevators and the orthopedic center, and in the other direction towards another set of elevators and the dentistry/ophthalmology center. He spent most of the first hour going back and forth, pausing to rub his head against the bushy green plants in the ortho waiting room or making people smile in the dentistry/ophthalmology waiting room. He was pretty tireless, only pausing a couple of times at his stroller to drink some chocolate milk before continuing on. Because this was a cancer hospital with many immune-suppressed patients and the current concern with the H1N1 flu, children under 12 were not even allowed in the hospital building unless they were patients, so we were questioned a couple of times. You'd think with his peach-fuzz head they'd figure out he was a patient.
Once we were finally in a waiting room, Doc D, Doc L's resident, eventually came in to do a physical exam of Alan. She watched him walk, moved and examined his hip joint, and asked us some questions about his history. Doc L finally came in right about the two hour mark from our original appointment time. Even though we were disappointed with the surgery Doc L was proposing, we got a good vibe from her. Interestingly, earlier this week I got a link to an article on fibrosarcoma arising from bone which looked like it applied to Alan's case (a rare form of a rare form of a rare form of cancer - would it be whining to say I wish we weren't quite that special?). It turns out Doc L is one of the co-authors. We need to print it out so we can ask Doc P on Monday if it does indeed apply to Alan.
Harold has had some interesting conversations with some squadron mates who have been through some of what we have been or will be dealing with. One had a son in a spica hip cast at 18 months old - he had many tips to share and some observations on what it was like to have an active toddler suddenly immobilized. His son would cry and cry at first because he couldn't walk anymore, but he eventually figured out how to crawl and even how to stand at the very end - all things we can envision with Alan. Another squadron mate had a son who was diagnosed with a brain tumor and has been cancer free for four years, but not before they were faced with a very grim prognosis. We're very grateful to them for sharing their experiences with us.
Today, Alan went to Kevin's preschool for a Christmas party. Alan had a grand time - he loved getting into the middle of the crowd of big kids, dancing and laughing. The kids adored little Alan with the soft fuzzy head. So many wanted to hug him and rub his head that by the end of the party, he was going around trying to rub their heads!
We were happy to see Kevin's teacher, Ms. Anna, back after her surgery. She told me that Alan was her hero - after watching him run around the playground during the Pumpkin Patch Party, she figured if Alan could do it so could she!
Alan and Ms. Anna
We have a ways to go yet - we won't be seeing Doc R to go over Alan's first surgery until the middle of January. Doc P was not concerned about the delay, so we'll try to be patient.
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