A Molar Development

Sloth and some soft food

The kids love to hear about who did what first in our house. Av was the first talker. Obelia was the first walker. Phin was the first to do a few things. He sat up at 3 months and cut his first teeth at 4 months. We were all astounded by the early teething because Av had also teethed relatively early but not that early. The dentist told us when Av got her 6-year molars a few months after she turned five that she was “dentally mature” and we could expect her to be that way clear through her dental progression. For reference, Av lost her final baby tooth at around 9.5. Obelia has barely lost five of them and she's 8 and four months.

Fast forward to Phin. One thing (of the many) that can happen during chemo is mouth sores. Over the last five months, we've been watching for a list of things that can happen so when Phin told me two days ago that he really wanted to show the nurses the inside of his mouth because it hurt, I immediately thought: "Okay, here it comes. The plague of mouth sores."

He opened his mouth, pointed to where it hurt, and in the back left side I could see it—not the mouth sores I expected—but the first of his six year molars popping up sharply through a very swollen gum. 

Since then, he’s been in a lot of pain and anything from a kiss on the cheek to any effort to chew hurts him. His whole cheek is swollen. He occasionally spikes a temp that works itself out pretty quickly (and he has tested negative for everything possible; his cultures are not growing anything at all: we are very thankful for these things) and his doctors do think that, even though teething does not actually cause fevers, given his special brand of mixed conditions, it may be the reason for them in this very special situation. 

Chugging medicine and chasing with 
ice pops

He's actually in a LOT of pain. Even when I made the mistake of forgetting and kissing him on the wrong cheek, he cried. He's currently on an all-the-soft-foods-you-can-eat and pain killer diet: ice pops, ice cream, giant spoons full of peanut butter, a sprinkle of morphine here, a swig of roxicodone there. 

Needless to say, between his low counts that have not started to rise and his unpredictable temps, our expected date for discharge has been pushed back. We are all good with this. We don't want to bring him home until it's safe to do so.

The feeling I felt when I looked in his mouth and realized the source of his pain was a mixture between relief, admiration and joy; his body seems to be ready to do all the things it would normally be doing despite the intense amount of chemotherapy he has gone through. We may be in here a little longer than expected, but one thing is for sure—once we go, we are taking at least one new molar with us.