“Ricky, stand up straight!”
“Dan, have you noticed how Ricky lowers that left shoulder and walks sort of like a crab?”
It seemed like I was always telling Ricky to stand up straight these days. I was afraid his back would grow crooked. He told me it felt better that way. I asked him where it hurt, and he said along the side of his neck and down his shoulder blade.
I went to school and asked his teacher if the class had been doing any unusual gym activities. Yes, they had been doing somersaults and rolls. Well, that explained it. He had rolled wrong and pulled that shoulder. The teacher noticed Ricky had been going to the restroom and had been putting wet paper towels on his neck. I decided to get him to a doctor and see if something was pulled out of place.
“I’m sorry, the doctor isn’t in, but the nurse will examine Ricky.”
“Thank you.”
“I can’t find anything wrong. Put heat on it and if it doesn’t clear up, come back.”
Back to the doctor.
“Let’s get a throat culture, and we will give him a dose of penicillin, just in case. Come back in ten days.”
In ten days Ricky wasn’t any better. In fact, the lump was larger. The test for strep was positive, but the doctor didn’t like the looks of that lump. It was hard and it should have been going away with the penicillin. Maybe it was bacteria—any number of things when the glands are swollen.
“He should have a biopsy at Children’s Mercy Hospital. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
By now, Ricky had lost 10 pounds, even though he was eating well. He didn’t want to play outside, just lie on the floor and watch TV or play with his little toy men.
We went on a nice picnic on the 4th of July. The kids all had fun paddling around the pond in paddle boats.
The next morning we checked in to the hospital. There would be several tests before the biopsy and many case histories taken. Ricky hadn’t been sick since he was a tiny baby. Oh, maybe an ear infection once.
“No, we don’t have a cat and he hasn’t been scratched by one.” What did that have to do with anything? “Well, sometimes cats carry a disease that makes the glands swell up. We are eliminating all the possibilities before we put Ricky through surgery.”
Well, that is good to know.
“We have determined all the things it is not, so now it will be necessary to do the biopsy on Monday.”
“Can I take him home for the weekend?”
“Oh, yes. Just have him back on Sunday night.”
“I will. Can I just leave my futon (a Japanese tri-fold foam mattress) here someplace so I don’t have to carry it back and forth?”
“Sure. That will be fine.”
This was a live-in hospital. Parents could sleep in the room with their child and eat in the hospital cafeteria. There was a parents’ washroom also. Lounge chairs that made into beds were available, but there were never enough to go around.
Since I am [type 1] diabetic, living in caused some problems. I had to store my insulin in their drug room and have a nurse get it every day. I also had to get to the cafeteria in order to eat on time, otherwise I would become dizzy and pass out. Ricky didn’t need a mother lying around on the floor someplace. I also needed a snack at bedtime to hold me through the night. The only thing available after dinner was snack machines in the basement of the hospital at the end of some dark corridors. I tried to bring something to eat to my room before visiting hours were over.
Ricky came through the biopsy fine. Rhonda waited with me. Nothing could be determined right away. The slides had to be read. I could take Ricky home the next day and the doctor would call. I noticed Dr. Richard Waldman was on the staff at the hospital, so I went by his office and left a note that Ricky was on the third floor. The Waldmans had lived two houses from us at Richards-Gebaur. Ricky played with their children, and Dr. Waldman did Ricky’s checkups at the base.
Now he walked in the room to check on Ricky after the surgery. He said Ricky seemed to be doing fine. He would call me about the results of the biopsy. I thought, How nice to have an old friend be Ricky’s doctor. It made Ricky feel better, too.
We brought Ricky home and catered to his tastes for milk shakes and ice cream; nothing hard to chew.
Chapter 6 to follow
