My four-year-old is okay!!!

    I was pretty sure she was fine since she wasn't in any pain, but the human brain goes some pretty scary places when a small child has to have a CT scan.  Since she had the test ordered a week ago, I have fallen asleep every night to an interior narrative repeating every human-interest story I have ever read that starts out:  "Everything seemed normal with little Billy until we took him in for his 4-year checkup and the doctor noticed _____..."  and ends with:  "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Billy.  His birthday is the hardest..."
    Now I know that the little lump in my daughter's abdomen the size of a small gumball is something called a lipoma; basically, a benign fatty cyst (sometimes they say tumor, but I think that needs to meet a certain size requirement-- and nobody likes that word anyway.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BANkMaLJaY4).  It is not in itself harmful.  If it were to grow or become painful we might need to do something about it to protect all the sensitive organs in its path, but odds are it will even dissolve itself-- or at the very least just hang out like it is and not change.
    My daughter's pediatrician did a wonderful job walking the line between scaring me over nothing and ignoring something potentially important.  She told me she thought it was nothing, maybe some 'stool' backed up in her intestines or a little cyst, but she wanted to see it because she was curious.  Maybe it was an unnecessary test, but I am pleased she took the precaution anyway.
    During the test I was the tough mom who was able to get her girl to drink enough vile, fruit punch flavored contrast liquid by playing "Good Cop, Bad Cop" with myself in both roles.  I didn't cry when she got her I.V.  I assured her no one would be angry if she had an accident when the dye they put through the I.V. gave her the common sensation of desperately needing to use the bathroom.  My husband was great, too.  I'm not saying I did it alone.  I just can't speak for how all of this made him feel, although I could guess.  I spent the remainder of the week assuring everyone who was worried that "no news was good news" and anything bad would have been painful as well, and Baby Duck was in no pain at all.  Then she started throwing up that night after she had the scan.  E was out of town and my discharge instructions said to call right away if any nausea or vomiting occurred within 48 hours.  The hospital said the eleven hour time lapse since the test made it unlikely that it was an allergic reaction, but I should bring her into the ER just in case.  I kept my wits and called my pediatrician's office for a second opinion-- and my instincts were right.  Probably just a bug, don't let her get dehydrated, no need for the ER.  
    So after being pretty darn rock-solid, I realized just how worried I had been once the giant weight of fear had been lifted.  I've been laughing a lot this afternoon-- enough to make it obvious how little I had laughed since this all started.  I had said I couldn't just bury my head in the sand; I had to face whatever it was so I didn't end up having to bury my child.  Now I am so glad I didn't have to test my resolve in that area.  I don't know how long I could have stayed strong in the face of a real threat.
    For everyone who prayed for my daughter, I pray you are blessed for your caring heart.  The support meant so much to me.

CL