Monday, April 25, 2005

Not Alone

Strange as it may seem, the new Pope and I have something in common.

"At a certain point, I prayed to God `please don't do this to me,''' the 78-year-old pontiff recalled. "Evidently, this time He didn't listen to me.''

It's somewhat comforting to know that there are far more studied people than I whose advice isn't necessarily heeded by God. It's a bit of a reminder of who is in charge. If the Pope, who is almost certainly more dilligent and disciplined in his prayer life than me, has to accept that God's will is different than his, then I should be able to as well. A tiny bit of the guilt of "it must be my fault for not praying hard enough" has been lifted.

On an unrelated note, the first bunch of doctor's appointments are done. Nothing really bad came out of cardiology. Doug's heart is a bit bigger than normal[1] (but you can tell that by his sunny disposition). The doctor said that at this point in time it isn't causing him any trouble, and isn't even an indicator of future problems. These tests will be used as a baseline for future comparisons. We really hate the sticker things they use for EKGs though. They stick on waaaaaaay too well.

[1] Technically, it's just his left ventricle that's bigger by not more than 10%.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Dog-Pile!

Well, it seems the medical community has caught up to us.

For the first few months we were abandoned. Left to drift aimlessly in the land of "your son has been diagnosed..." We got the bombshell of a diagnosis, and then floated around "waiting for referrals". We were pretty much ignored by the system.

Now, it appears, our referrals have all gone through. We have appointments with doctors, with specialists, with labs for more tests, with support services, with support groups, and even our dentist is getting in on it. (Although in truth, they really just sort of do this thing every 6 months, and can't be blamed) We've gone from standing in a deep dark cave all alone to the bottom of a medical dog-pile. And would you believe that each one has it's own set of forms to fill out? Don't these people talk to each other? It doesn't seem to matter how many pens we use up, there's always another form.

How long does this continue? Will we be going to a doctor every week now? This is completely foriegn to me. I'm a "once a decade" doctor visitor. I'd put it on the list of questions to ask the doctor, but we're getting so many of those lists, I'll probably end up asking the dentist - who will simply tell me to call them in six months. You know what? I'm beginning to like the dentist's schedule...

Monday, April 11, 2005

Dragon Warrior

You know what the most frustrating part of this whole thing is? The feeling of being cheated.

As a father, my job is to defend my family against all the things in this world that want to hurt them. I am supposed to be the knight in shining armor standing at the drawbridge to my castle. All the bad people that want to pass have to get through me first. You want to take my kid's lunch money? You've gotta deal with me. You want to push my kid over at the playground? You'll be answering to the knight. You want to date my daughter? Not until prove to me that I should let you pass.

OK, so my armor isn't always all that shiny, and my sword looks bigger and sharper than it really is, but it's my RIGHT as a father to get the chance to defend my family - or die trying. Isn't it? Well along comes one of the worlds biggest meanest dragons to my castle, and what happens? He sneaks in the back window and attacks my son. I don't even get a chance. I would trade my life in a heartbeat to be given a fighting chance to defend Doug. But I didn't get the chance to even try. It's not fair. I feel so powerless.