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Thursday, March 08, 2007

No news is good news

The evening before the MRI, you will get The Throat. Note it, and know that you are going to be sick, tomorrow of all days.

The morning of the MRI, wake up believing it to be a Really Bad Cold. Stop at CVS and stock up on Cold-Eeze and Contac and Cepacol lozenges. No slouch, you. Take THAT, virus!

The MRI will go fine, in spite of the fact that you told the oldest there wouldn't be any needles and in fact there is one, a contrast agent for the vascular system you're told. Apologize profusely to the child, who quite seriously will say, "I think we can work through this." Wonder if the school has started showing Dr. Phil episodes in lieu of recess on rainy days.

You won't get any results right then, of course. The results will go to the otolaryngologist, who will convey them to you a few days from now. And don't even think of relying on eye contact and/or facial expression as indicators either. These nurses all have incredible poker faces; their expressions are almost painted on, they're that static.

When you and the oldest pick up the youngest from his friend's house, where he went after school, the friend's mom will ask if you are taking Airborne. Wonder if you are missing some key ingredient in your combo, if you have doomed yourself.

By 4 pm, know that this is not a cold. Your temperature will register 102.4. When you cough and put your hand up to shield your cough, your breath is uncomfortably hot on your palm. And your knees hurt. And in your right ear, you hear a whooshing, as if you're holding a seashell up to it.

Collapse on the sofa. Put a video in for the youngest. Tell the oldest to do his homework. Clutch the phone in your hand, then decide to just stick it on the table in front of you. If the doctor calls today, it means the MRI results were sped up because they were so bad. Lie on your side on the sofa, the youngest nesting in your tangled lower legs, and hope the phone doesn't ring today.

It won't.
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