It just must be said that I have developed a crush on John Stewart. I am aware that it has nothing to do with anything, but I'm just sayin'. If he were like an inch taller, and played guitar...
Medical jargon and hoo-hah to follow:
Scarlett's pre-surgical consultation and bear jamboree was this morning. We met with Dr. Mehlman, who went over the surgery with us again, this time with no heads spinning or smelling salts needed. That first time I think Kevin and I were left like stunned victims of a drive by mugging; looking at each other and thinking "what in the hell just happened?" This time we were much more prepared, with questions and pie charts, and even a song and dance routine. We worked on it at the slumber party. We wore matching hats.
Right. The Doctor. We are looking at a 90 percent chance of a successful closed reduction. They will inject a dye into both hips to look for abnormalities, or any blockages of the socket. If those are clear, the way he thinks they will be, she will have one tiny incision, and then be casted. This part we already knew. She will also have an MRI after surgery, to check their work.
I feel good, not great, about the odds. Odds haven't worked in our favor lately. We are trying not to be pessimistic [or rather, I am trying, Kevin is succeeding, the bugger], but I am aware that she could have to have a more invasive procedure. So, let's all think happy happy thoughts that Scarlett's hip will pop right back into place.
Tomorrow: Sedated echo cardiogram to follow up on her heart murmur. Like my friend Wendy, I might write a poem about it. And it may contain vulgar language. If you are lucky.