“The x-ray confirmed our suspicions. There is an obstruction between Crimson’s stomach and intestine— it’s preventing his digestive system from functioning normally.”
Great. Just great. So much for what I know about x-rays. Guess I’m not going home in a month…
“An operation would be risky, so I believe the wisest option is for us to do more chemotherapy and hope it takes care of the problem.”
I’m all for hope, but I’d rather have the surgery at this point.
“In the meantime, while his digestive system isn’t functioning properly, we need to insert an NG tube so he doesn’t continue to vomit. We’re also going to mark Crimson as NPO.”
The second I heard the word ‘insert,’ I started listening much more intently. “Woah, woah, wait a second— what’s an NG tube? And what does ‘NPO’ mean?”
High Flyer, who stood with the doctor, answered, “‘NPO’ stands for ‘Non Per Ora.’ It means you can’t eat anything. We’ll be giving you all the nutrients and the medicine you need through your PICC line. Luckily, all your medications come in a liquid form as well.”
I groaned. “Shoot. So much for Gramma’s cooking.” My stomach gurgled again, but luckily, nothing jumped in my throat. “So… what’s an NG tube?”
High Flyer sighed and looked at the doctor. “Please don’t make me tell him.”
That was not encouraging.
The doctor shook his head as High Flyer gave a sigh of relief. The doctor explained, “You began vomiting before because you can’t expel wastes naturally due to the blockage. We need to create another path for your body to use for this process. The best non-surgical way to do that is with an NG tube. ‘NG’ stands for ‘nasogastric.’ Since your nasal passages and your throat are connected, a nasogastric tube goes through your nasal passage directly to your gastrointestinal tract. We—”
I’d spent enough time in a hospital to know what those words meant. I interrupted him with a loud, “What? You’re telling me you’re gonna shove a tube up my nose and into my stomach?” I saw Tess flinch when I yelled.
The doctor nodded. “Basically, yes. We need to do it as soon as possible so you don’t vomit again. It’s miraculous that you didn’t while you were seeing your father. Speaking of which…” The Doc turned to Mom. “…the NG tube must be connected to machinery that cannot travel between rooms when in use. At the very most, he may be able to walk to the window, but Crimson will likely be confined to his bed. That means—”
“Are you telling me I can’t go see my dad either?!”
He nodded slowly and turned back to me. “Unfortunately, that is indeed the case. I’m sorry, Crimson.”
“What the buck? Are you kidding me?” I shouted.
“Hey! Watch your mouth, mister!” Mom yelled over me.
“Well can you blame me?” I huffed and put my head in my hooves. Tess propped herself up and put a hoof on my back, a frown tugging at her muzzle. I looked back at her as I let a tear drip down my cheek. At that point, I just stopped listening to what the doctor said. I figured things couldn’t get any worse.
About five minutes later, I was proven wrong.
“AAAAAAHHH! AAAAAAHHH!”
“Crimson, I know it hurts, but we need you to keep swallowing! It’ll be over in a few seconds! You’re doing great!” the doctor encouraged.
I could feel the tube sliding down my throat as the doctor continued pushing it through my nose. As far as I could remember, I had never felt anything so painful in my life. Every time I swallowed, I felt my throat clench, fighting the tube like the invader it was.
“There’s the marker; it’s in. Okay, Crimson— the worst part is over. You did a great job!” The doctor patted my fetlock, and I could feel the tears flowing down my face as I nodded slowly, panting.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. That couldn’t have been easy,” Mom said. When I slowly shook my head, she started rubbing my back. “You are absolutely amazing, Crimson. I don’t know how you put up with this.”
In an attempt to laugh, I made a small wheezing sound. “Years of practice, I guess.” It felt weird to speak. I could still feel my throat trying to crush the tube.
“Okay, miss. You can come back in.” About two seconds after I heard the doctor say those words, Tess stood at my bedside as if she had never left.
I sat up and hunched myself over. The doctor had taped the tube to the side of my head so it wouldn’t come out; I could feel it pulling on my face. I looked at Tess and asked her, “How bad do I look?” Geez, that tube made it hard to talk.
She grimaced, but she quickly hid behind a smile and answered, “You look great.”
I raised a brow at her and said, “Thanks… but you don’t have to lie. Seriously, how does it look?” My voice sounded raspy.
Tess grimaced again and responded, “It looks like it hurts. How does it feel? How do you feel?”
I smirked and said, “That’s more like it. It feels…” I swallowed, once again feeling my throat clench around the tube. “It feels like it hurts.” I breathed out my nose, wincing. “And I’m… tired.”
“I’m not surprised. Insertion of an NG tube will certainly take a lot out of you,” the doctor explained. “I’m going to speak with my colleagues so we can discuss the next course of treatment. There are a number of options, but I want to see if we can give you one that will take care of the problem while causing as few side effects as possible.”
Mom sighed. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He nodded at us. “Try to get some rest for now. It will do you some good.”
I slowly, and silently, nodded back at him. Then he went out the door.
As I carefully laid back against my pillow, I sighed, looking at Mom and Tesla in turn. “This isn’t gonna be fun,” I rasped out.
“Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. Let’s just hope that the new chemotherapy will do its job quickly,” Mom said.
“Yeah, I guess…”
I took a slow breath and looked toward the door. Gramma walked in right at that moment. “Oh, sweetheart, what have they done now?” She sighed. “Crimson, I’ll be with you in a moment. Harmony, can I talk to you?” She motioned for Mom to go out in the hall— not a good sign.
Mom nodded and told me, “I’ll be right back, sweetie. I just need to talk to your gramma, okay?”
I nodded back at her, still lying against my pillow.
Mom and Gramma stayed out in the hallway for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear them talking, but I had a feeling it had to do with Dad. Tess sat with me, alternating between looking at me and the hallway; her hoof stayed on mine the whole time. When the door finally opened, Gramma walked in, but Mom stayed in the doorway and told me, “I need to go see your father, sweetie. Gramma is going to explain what’s going on, okay?” I slowly nodded again, the tube tugging on my nose. “Alright. I’ll be back in a little while.” With that, she shut the door, and I heard her hoofsteps fading down the hall.
I didn’t like the way Mom and Gramma were acting. “Gramma, what’s going on?” I asked her. Tess alternated looking between her and me.
Gramma sat next to me and took a breath. “Well, sweetheart, I won’t beat around the bush. You’ve spent enough time in a hospital that you’re past that.” She gave a deep sigh before she said, “Your father is going into surgery.”