Kate stunned her leg doing an aerial (hand-free cartwheel....I had to ask) and was convinced she hurt her knee. Kate has a lot of knee discomfort because her joints are overly flexible so I didn't pay much attention at the time. Monday she was limping when she got home from school so I had her put on shorts to ice her knee. It was then I saw the giant knot protruding out of her leg, above the knee. It was rock hard but was not at all painful when I pushed on it or manipulated her leg. She only felt discomfort when she was weight bearing. I took her swimming that night and noted she was running and jumping into the pool without favoring the leg at all so I was confused. Here is this obvious problem but her pain level simply didn't match the evidence. I took her to see the pediatrician Tuesday morning because I wanted to know what it was before allowing her to run in gym class. As soon as the doctor started her evaluation, she ordered x-rays and let me know we would likely need a c.t scan and possibly blood work too. She told Kate she would not be back to school that day and bought herself at least a week out of gym class until we had answers. At this point, I assumed the doctor was as confused as I was. However, she was getting ready to leave the country for a week so she got the other doctor who would be on call this week to examine Kate in order for him to know who he was working with as the week progressed. He quickly and verbally assessed the knot as a tumor. My heart sank. It was not on radar at all for me. I was worried it was the start of knee issues like Makenna's not something potentially more serious.
We went to the hospital for x-rays and the tech pointed out the tumor on the image and asked us to wait in the waiting room so they could get our doctor on the phone to give us results. All the while, I kept my cool, not wanting to scare Kate. Completely oblivious, she sat and played with the baby bead table in the waiting room while I fought tears. The radiologist determined the shape and edges of the tumor were consistent with a benign tumor called Ostechondroma. The doctor declared this good news and said we would follow up in six months. Relieved, I left the hospital and fell apart in the parking lot. All the pent-up emotions boiled over and at that moment, Kate said she could tell I was a little nervous but she still didn't fully grasp my fear. She thought I was afraid she was going to have knee surgery like her sister.
It didn't take long for my brain to catch up and for me to start asking questions. Erin's surgeons at work were livid we were told it was benign based on an x-ray and furthermore could not believe we were told to wait six months to have it examined again. The tumor was not present just five months ago when Kate had a full physical. I suddenly felt it was irresponsible to wait as well and scheduled a second opinion with the pediatric orthopedic surgeon we used for Makenna's knee because we know she is smart and thorough. Obviously, we wanted nothing more than to hear she agreed with the initial assessment but were not comfortable assuming all was well simply because we wanted it to be.
Dr. Brey was able to see Kate Thursday afternoon and also fully agreed with the Osteachondroma diagnosis. She was able to give us a list of symptoms to watch for and how to access if anything changes. There is a .0001% chance of this becoming malignant unless some of those other symptoms appear. The exhale was audible as we left the hospital that second time. We are not naive enough to think cancer doesn't happen to kids with parents who pray. We are currently lifting three families in our community facing that harsh reality now. Their experiences are brutal to observe and even a tiny glimpse into their world was shocking. There simply aren't the right words to express it fully.
Kate asked to attend that boy's football game last night and I quickly agreed. As it turns out, there are worse things in the world than middle school crushes. Her daddy wasn't as convinced and decided to accompany her. She was genuinly delighted; missing completely his facetious intent.
Our Katebug is still sweet, still healthy and still blissfully unaware of how scared we were. We want to keep it that way.
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