UPDATE: Monday 8/19

A bit of a longer post. Imogen is recovering well, but she's going to be sore for sure. Sunday night was a pretty rough one.  As Tammy put it, the "worst night of my life."  We've had a few of those in a row.

The problem was that the morphine blocked the pain, but she was still coming off the anesthesia. What that means is that she was scared and really confused.  She kept asking us to pick her up and hold her–which we couldn't–but don't touch her. At one point, she was especially annoyed at Aaron being on top of her.  He wasn't there.

Monday was mostly a recovery day, making sure Imogen had enough morphine to stay comfortable.  Our incredible neurosurgeon scheduled another MRI for the afternoon to see what the tumor looks like, post-op.  We're hoping he got a bunch out.

The Hematology/Oncology doctors came to see us while Imogen was sleeping.  They were looking into the frozen chunk of tumor.  It was a long conversation, but here's the gist:

1. The tumor is very unusual.  Tumors in the neuroblastoma family are very rare and odd anyway.  They're actually the only kind of cancer that can disappear on their own.  (not counting miracles, which, for the record, I count)

2. Because of the complexity and location of this tumor, they've asked us to participate in a study.  Her tissue samples will be sent to the premier neuroblastoma scientist, doctor, person in the world for review.  It will help future patients, but we may also benefit from it, as he/she will weigh in on her case and make recommendations.

3. The HemOnc folks are actually hoping that the tumor is malignant. Not aggressive, but at least intermediate.  It was the weirdest feeling to hear that, that I should be hoping for real cancer.  The reason is this: if it's completely benign, then they can't shrink it.  Chemotherapy attacks cells that are actively multiplying and dividing. Benign tumors don't multiply and divide.

So, if it's benign, we'll have a decision to make.  If they see some malignancy, then it's chemo.  The way they do chemo for kids is in very low doses, and they combine the medicines in such a way that the bad side effects don't all come at the same time.  She'll still lose her hair, which means I'll be shaving mine.

That's what we know up to this point.  Without further ado, here's a picture of the balloon kingdom. Thanks to mom and all my coworkers at In Touch for sending these: