Trip’s PET scan was finally today. It started at 1:00 p.m. so it was harder on him than usual due to the amount of time he realized he was without food. I woke up this morning with a flood of memories from a year ago when his MRI revealed the disease had spread. I tried to push those fear images aside and visualize only the love that is surrounding Trip. This disease cannot penetrate love and that thought comforts me when fear creeps in.
Trip was a trooper as always but had a rough time waking up from anesthesia. It’s not uncommon, but it certainly isn’t something we are accustomed to seeing with Trip. He couldn’t stop crying and couldn’t be consoled. The crying on stop of the hard sleep combined with the orbital mass made his eye bulge more than we’ve seen before. That was unsettling but explainable since we know the mass is still there.
Once we got home, Trip ate dinner and a cupcake (his usual reward for a hard day of not getting to eat or drink). We snuggled on the couch and played a little. After breaking through and drinking a little more than his normal fluid intake, he began to complain of a tummy ache. I halfway listened to him since he can be a bit dramatic at times but eventually forced him to take Zofran. As soon as he gagged on the Zofran, he projectile vomited all over the kitchen counter… four times. He said he felt better and also said that I should listen better next time. I’m hopeful it’s not going to be the “persistent” vomiting that they warned us about after anesthesia, but so far just the one time in the last hour. I’m on alert until I’m certain though.
In his own way, Trip has reminded me of the importance of positive thinking. His glass half-full approach has alerted me that suddenly my glass is half-empty. In effort to keep Trip from being disappointed at times, I try to prepare him by asking him questions like, “What if they don’t have the book you want to read?” and “What if Kroger doesn’t have any small shopping carts?” His usual response is, “What if they do?” For a long time I took this as him being combative until we were in the hospital last weekend waiting to go home. We were delayed getting discharged again, so I began to think we might have to stay another night. I wanted to prepare him and asked, “What if we don’t get to go home tonight?” and he looked me dead in the eye and said sternly, “What if we do get to go home?” It shocked me a little because I realized how right he is to think the positive way he is thinking. Who am I to squash his innocent view of the good that can happen? I can’t keep him from having his share (or possibly more than his share) of disappointment in life. Instead, I hope to help him believe he can handle whatever disappointment he does face.
That lesson was big for me today especially. When the fear thoughts came in this morning of not getting news we want from today’s scan, I turned my what-if thought into one of Trip’s what-if thoughts… “What if this scan shows the disease has progressed again?” was pushed out of my mind with “What if this scan shows no active disease?” Part of me is still in protective mode and doesn’t want to get my hopes up too high, so this lesson is a work in progress as many of my lessons are. We should get the PET results on Tuesday. Whatever news we get, I can handle it.
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