were doing something. In a short while, we’d have a diagnosis, probably a
prescription or two, and Colton would be on the way to recovery.
We took Colton to the lab, where he screamed as a tech tried her best
to find a vein. That was followed by Xrays that were better only because we
convinced Colton that there were no needles involved. Within an hour, we
were back in the exam room with the doctor.
“Could it be appendicitis?” Sonja asked the doctor.
He shook his head. “No. Colton’s white blood cell count isn’t consistent
with appendicitis. We are concerned, though, about his Xrays.”
I looked at Sonja. It was at that moment we realized we’d been banking
on a really nasty virus. We were completely unprepared for something
more serious. The doctor led us into the hallway, where there was already
an Xray clipped to an illuminator. When I saw what was in the picture, my
heart dropped into my stomach: The Xray of our son’s tiny little torso
showed three dark masses. It looked for all the world as if his insides had
exploded.
Sonja began shaking her head and tears, which had hovered just
beneath the surface, spilled onto her cheeks.
“Are you sure it’s not appendicitis?” I asked the doctor.
“There’s a family history.”
Again he said no. “That’s not what the blood tests show.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m not sure,” he said.