On Wednesday, the day before Adam first ended up in Epsom General on antibiotics for a line infection, Alison took him up to the Royal Marsden to have his repeat MRI scan.
The results were due on Friday. I know I blather on a lot about stuff on here, but all the same I don't possess the gift of words. I cannot begin to convey to you just what it feels like to know a call such as this is coming. At some point. Today.
The phone is ringing.
The enlarged lymph node, or mass, is still there. It hasn't gone, it hasn't got any smaller. But most important of all it hasn't grown either. It's still exactly the same size as it was five weeks earlier when it first showed up on the MRI scan out in Germany.
What does that mean?
It means it hasn't gone, it's still there and it's the same size. It hasn't got any smaller, and it hasn't got any bigger.
Yes, but what does that mean?
It means it hasn't gone, it's still there …
WE DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS.
Well what is it?
WE DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS.
I know lots of things, or I like to think I do. And yet when it comes to my own son I know practically nothing. So ironic, when it matters most I simply don't have a clue.
The general consensus of the team at the Marsden is to adopt a wait-and-observe approach. So I suppose that means another MRI in a few weeks time, although I haven't confirmed that with them yet. I have a meeting scheduled on Friday morning with Professor Andy Pearson, head of the children's unit, to discuss.
I also emailed Germany with the result and asked for their opinions or suggestions. They haven't been very forthcoming, by which I mean they don't reply. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe they also don't know, or maybe more likely they remain convinced it's neuroblastoma, but don't want to say because they think it's not what I want to hear. Or maybe they don't want to tread on the toes of the doctors in the UK. Who knows? Not me, because I know sod all …