Teague had his second post-treatment MRI on Monday, November 2. Brain and spine, still clean. We are happy and relieved.
Dr. Watson said that this counts as 3 1/2 months on the cancer-free calendar. Quinn likes to count from the day of surgery, which would put us closer to 7 months, but you have to go from the end of treatment, which was July 17. I don't really care how they count it.
We got that good news Tuesday morning after a long Monday. If Teague's MRI had stayed on track, as scheduled, we would have had it all in one day, but we were delayed because he ate ONE fruit snack. A clear, gelled, gummy snack, which I thought was probably more like Jell-O than solid food, but no. They refused to sedate him. After a 7:15 a.m. check-in at PCMC, we were sent away.
So we took Teague to the zoo to kill time. Six hours, to be precise. And all he could have was Jell-O until noon, then nothing. He was so good. He'd only ask for food about once an hour: "I need soup!" he would declare.
He napped in the car on the way to the new hospital in Riverton (they had no more MRI availability at Primary Children's). It was opening day there, and everything smelled and looked as new as it was. And they were able to do his brain and spine, whereas PCMC only had him scheduled for brain.
Still no complaints from my tired, hungry toddler. Even when they put the IV in his little hand, he sat perfectly still on my lap, facing me, with his hand resting on my arm. They had to move the needle around in there, and he didn't even flinch. Not even a twitch. Brave, brave, brave. Only later did he say it "really hurts," and put his head down on me.
Then the usual drill. Sedation and the waiting. He was brought to the recovery room at 4:30 p.m., far too late in the day to hope to have the results read. But Dr. Kestle called first thing the next morning, and we met with Dr. Watson. Both doctors had good things to say.
Then Dr. Watson told us more of the scary crap that could manifest down the road because of whatever brain cells may have been killed by the radiation and therefore may not grow with the rest of Teague's brain. That weighed heavily on my mind for a few days until I remembered that almost none of the scary scenarios they've warned us about thus far have happened. Hair loss was really the only thing we've seen come true. Teague always fares better than they say he will, which is evidence of the blessing Quinn gave him before he was even diagnosed. Teague was told that his brain would function properly. We've seen that over and over again.
