Ring the Bell

Today is the ending ceremony, first follow up appointment, and her port removal surgery.

She didn't ring the bell last month because she still had oral chemo until Thanksgiving.

Today we started by checking in to Same Day Surgery, then to clinic. It's December,  so Emma got a stocking stuffed with art supplies, nail polish, hair accessories, and such.

Stocking, Play Doh, and Daddy.

Doug checked her over. We talked about the transition to her pediatrician. She got some play doh. Dr. Engle is out so we saw Dr. Verma, who we haven't seen for quite a long time.

Doug is Emma's doctor. Doug frequently wears no socks. I think he looks like Flynn Ryder.

We heard another kid ring the bell before us. There were 3 who finished today, all Doug's patients. Jessica, Emma's primary nurse, says that's the best Christmas present.

Jessica has been Emma's nurse for more than two years. Jessica has mad ninja port-access skills and she is Emma's buddy.

Emma had some time, so she made a couple Christmas ornaments with a volunteer. Then it was her turn. Her nurses came clapping and singing the no-more-chemo song. They gave her some presents- things that they know she likes- wrapped in a blanket.

Crafts, art projects, coloring, painting, and glitter. We love the things that set a children's hospital apart from other boring hospitals.

She rang the bell, danced around, hugged her nurses, and posed for a picture (to be uploaded later.)
 

Some of Emma's nurses and her child life buddy.

We returned to same day surgery. She got into her OR pajamas and we talked with her surgeon and anesthesiologist,  who has worked on both Tommy and Emma.
 

Two IDs: one for clinic and one for surgery

Now she is in surgery, and we return to where we were when I started this blog.

Gratitude. I am so grateful.

EDIT/ ADDENDUM:
Surgery went fine. Dr. Tanner gave her enough to knock her out, but not so much that she wouldn't wake up. The port was pretty entangled in scar tissue, so the surgeon needed two incisions to get it out well and safely, but there it is, on the table.

Power Port. A biological hazard now that it is out. The self-sealing silicone sucks in around the needle, allowing for chemo going in and samples coming out. Fluids going in, antibiotics going in, and samples coming out. What a fabulous bit of engineering and creativity.

I may have had the giggles while Emma recovered. Post-operative instructions included "give her Tylenol or ibuprofen for pain." We haven't given her Tylenol - it's only been administered in the ER after her counts were taken. She hasn't had ibuprofen since diagnosis: it's a blood thinner.

We know quite well that PTSD is a reality for a lot of cancer families. Worries linger. Threats of relapse, secondary cancers, side effects from treatments, survivors guilt, and other worries follow cancer patients and their parents. I have no doubt that those worries will be there; but for now we are feeling relief, gratitude, freedom, and hope.

Threats may loom, but for now, Emma is fine. Tommy is fine. Lizzy is fine. Caleb is fine.