//------------------------------// // Chapter 51: Foal Steps // Story: Through Crimson Eyes // by Level Dasher //------------------------------// “Well buddy, your CT scan results are back,” High Flyer told me. “The doctors are on their way with them; they’ll be here in a few minutes.” “Oh Luna, I hope they have good results this time,” I sighed, sitting up. “Me too, buddy. I’ve got my feathers crossed for ya. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.” Yeah, me too, but ‘sorry’ isn’t the word I would use. Two weeks after the surgery, they did a scan to see if I had any luck with a fast healing process, but I wasn’t that lucky. They checked again a week later— still healing. A month after the surgery, the amount of time the doctor had predicted, still not finished. I was ready to pitch a fit. Now, at the fifth week, they better give me the all-clear. “Do you know why it would be taking so long to heal?” Mom asked High Flyer. “Well, Crimson’s intestinal tract really took a beating, what with all the chemotherapy and the surgery. It wouldn’t surprise me if his immune system is just taking longer to work everything out because of the trauma. It doesn’t help that he’s already on immunosuppressants; even though we did decrease his dosage when the chemo began, it’s still a bit slower than we had expected. The previous scans have shown that the healing process is happening, it’s just taking awhile. On the bright side, everything else is looking fine. There haven’t been any other complications, and despite everything you’ve dealt with here in Oncology, your heart’s still beating nice and strong.” “Yes, that is most certainly a positive,” Gramma said. “The last thing we need is for Crimson’s heart to start acting up as well.” “Exactly,” High Flyer responded. As the door opened behind him and the doctors walked in, he said, “Ah! The results are in!” “I hope I’m not the father,” I snickered. “Excuse me?” Gramma commented. Mom smacked her face with her hoof. “You haven’t been watching that stupid Rory Ponevich show, have you?” “Heh, maybe.” “You shouldn’t be watching that trash,” Gramma said. “I know,” I chuckled, “but I think it’s all fake. ANYWAY…” I turned to the doctors. “Results?” One of the doctors smirked at the interchange, then he said, “Well, as usual, bad news and good news. Which one first? The usual?” I sighed, “Yeah.” “Alright. Well, the bad news is that sucker’s still not coming out just yet,” he said, pointing to the G-tube. I let out a short grunt. “Good news is that you’ll be getting some water and possibly applesauce later.” My eyes lit up. “Wait— does that mean?” “Yep,” the doctor said with a smile. “You’ve finally healed up. Quite nicely, too. That extra week was definitely worth it. We’re sorry you’ve had to wait so long, Crimson, but it was necessary.” “Finally!” I cried, laying back on my pillow. I’d gotten used to the stitches by now— they really didn’t bother me anymore. “So, how long until I can try something solid?” “One step at a time, Crimson, one step at a time,” the doctor said. “Liquids first. To make sure your digestive tract can function on its own properly, we’re going to clamp your G-tube so your stomach acids don’t drain out anymore and go back to your intestines instead. If you react well enough, and are able to use the facilities normally, then we’ll gradually move on to solid foods.” “Wait, so does that mean you’re taking—well, not taking out, I guess— unplugging the G-tube from the wall? Will I be able to get out of bed?” “Yes, but you’ll need some physical therapy because you’ve lain in bed for so long. With a little help, you should be able to walk around soon enough. You’ll just need to watch the tube hanging from your abdomen. The tube comes in segments— we’ll detach it from the segment closest to your body for minimum drag. We may be able to bend what’s left of the tube before we clamp it so it doesn’t stick out from your body too much, but you’ll still need to be careful,” the doctor told me. “I can help you out with some of your PT, Crimson, but one of the other specialists will come in to give you your initial instructions, okay?” High Flyer added. “Sounds good to me,” I answered. “Can I try something now? To drink, I mean.” One of the other doctors had a small cup of water with her. “Give me one moment, please.” She nodded to the other doctors and approached my left side, holding some kind of clip. Closing it around the tube about half a hoof from my gut, she slid part of the tube away and unhooked me from the wall. Just looking at it felt great, even though the tube was still attached. She bent what was left of the tube in half twice, then took something that looked like one of mom’s binder clips and clamped it shut. “Does that feel alright?” “Kinda weird, but yeah.” “When you start your physical therapy, we’ll need to see if it feels alright while you’re standing up. It may feel a bit weighted. If it does, we may give you a bandage to prevent it from weighing you down. For now…” She gave me the cup of water. “…just take sips. Given how long you’ve been NPO, it wouldn’t surprise me if you want to gulp that down, but take it slow, please.” My throat had been dry for ages—minus the occasional ice chips I was allowed—but I did as I was told. Just a few sips. The water felt amazing flowing down my throat, and I voiced it immediately. “Good,” the doctor said. “We’ll bring you some milk at lunch, then applesauce for dinner. I know it’s not much, but you need to take foal steps. After you’re able to try solid food, if it sits well with you, then we’ll swap that tube out for the button. You’ll still be on your IV nutrients until then. Sound good?” “Sounds like a plan to me,” I answered. “How long do you think that’ll take?” “At least another week, possibly two,” one of the other doctors said. “Not only do we need to make sure that you’re doing alright with the basics, but as we mentioned earlier, you’ll need to have physical therapy as well since you’ve been in bed for so long. We want to make sure none of your limbs have atrophied. You’ll need to continue with the PT for a little while after we’ve discharged you, but you can do that at home. For now we’ll focus on the food and just some simple exercises. Unfortunately, we also need you to hold off on the home-cooked meals.” “Okay,” I sighed. Shoot. Another week before I even get to try solid food. Maybe longer. At this rate, I’ll be here for another month.