It's been a rough couple of weeks for my Little Biker. He's had a few spills, and taken a few lumps.
It started with a tumble off a bed while watching TV. Apparently (according to his sister) he laughed himself right off the bed over something he saw. Unfortunately, the laughing stopped when he banged his arm on the floor. Tough little guy though, he got over it in his typical fashion, but still was favouring it. I had sent Allison off for a week of scrapbooking, so Dr. Dad was in charge.
Dr. Dad waited a few more days, and realizing that he wasn't using his left hand at all (he's left handed), took him to the clinic for a look over. The doctor tried a few things, but couldn't narrow down where or how bad things were. He gave us a week to watch it to see if things improved. They didn't. So we piggybacked another doctors appointment onto the annual (yelp) flu shots. Our family doctor suspected an elbow, so we went off for X-rays. Sure enough, he's cracked something in his elbow. No cast necessary, just "take it easy".
Right. Ever lived with a 5 year old and an 8 year old before? Let's just say that there have been more than a handful of "bumping the injury" incidents.
Anyhow - fast forward to this weekend. Out celebrating a birthday with friends (Happy Birthday Katie!) and Doug takes a tumble. On hardwood. Fortunately, it didn't jar his elbow too hard. Unfortunately, this was because he didn't put his hands out to catch himself. He hit the floor with a resounding smack - teeth first. Again, the tough little guy only cried for a few minutes, but the blood was flowing. Did his teeth still look straight? Allison figured they weren't. I thought they looked close enough. Today, we got the dentist's opinion. "Impacted tooth". It's been pushed up.
The good news is that Doug is almost at the loose-tooth stage of life anyhow. This was about the "safest" time he could have done this. The roots of the baby teeth are pretty much dissolved with the adult teeth coming, and the adult teeth have a hard crown all ready to go. In between, there is extra space and cushion. Long term prognosis is very very good. In the short term, there are several things that might happen. The tooth may be pushed back into place by the swelling, and things return to normal. The tooth may stay recessed until it naturally loosens and falls out. The blood vessels to the tooth may have been damaged, in which case the tooth may take on a grey shade - until it loosens naturally and falls out. Or, the swelling may increase too much, and the dentist may have to pull it. Odds are on the side of the first few alternatives.
Bottom line, in a week or so, he should be able to bite and chew with his front teeth again.
Who said life was safe anyways. Good thing kids are built tough. Yeah, he's been down a few times this month - but like all good bikers Doug will be "shiny side up" before we know it. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Why all the suffering?
A couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a friend. She is suffering emotionally, and it is a challenge just getting out of bed. I know that feeling. Some days, it seems like there is just so much of life "stacked up against you" that you really just don't have the strength to get up and face the day.
Then, at about the same time, our church prayed for someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. Again. More pain, and more suffering. Why does God let that happen? Isn't he our loving father? What kind of father would let this sort of thing continue? Seems mean to me.
Just this week, we once again prayed for someone in pain. This lady has been in extreme daily chronic pain for over a decade. How does God let that happen? Where is the glory in that? "Look at this person who follows Jesus. See how much she suffers?". It doesn't seem to add up.
I've been thinking about this for a while. There has to be something deeper. Something that can make it all make sense. I cannot - in spite of all that I see happening - believe that a God of love has a mean streak. I think this comes back again once more to eternal perspective.
Eternal perspective changes how we look at things. Instead of limiting ourselves to our emotions, feelings, and limited time, we take a big step back and look at things "from God's view". What purpose does suffering have here on earth?
I think that God allows us to suffer because it makes more room in the world for love. Love is the greatest gift that we can give to another person. And the more pain, sorrow, and suffering there is on this earth, the more opportunities we have to give and receive love. Yes, we can love those who aren't suffering too, but the deep connections we make with others are more often and more tightly forged in the fires of adversity. Just like intense heat and pressure turn coal into diamonds - pain, suffering, and sorrow turn mere acquaintances into deep friendships. Spending time with someone and sharing in their suffering creates a deep bond that cannot be duplicated in any other way. And in the sum total of things of value on this wounded sphere, love tops the list.
How great is it that the more you hurt, the more love you experience.
Then, at about the same time, our church prayed for someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. Again. More pain, and more suffering. Why does God let that happen? Isn't he our loving father? What kind of father would let this sort of thing continue? Seems mean to me.
Just this week, we once again prayed for someone in pain. This lady has been in extreme daily chronic pain for over a decade. How does God let that happen? Where is the glory in that? "Look at this person who follows Jesus. See how much she suffers?". It doesn't seem to add up.
I've been thinking about this for a while. There has to be something deeper. Something that can make it all make sense. I cannot - in spite of all that I see happening - believe that a God of love has a mean streak. I think this comes back again once more to eternal perspective.
Eternal perspective changes how we look at things. Instead of limiting ourselves to our emotions, feelings, and limited time, we take a big step back and look at things "from God's view". What purpose does suffering have here on earth?
I think that God allows us to suffer because it makes more room in the world for love. Love is the greatest gift that we can give to another person. And the more pain, sorrow, and suffering there is on this earth, the more opportunities we have to give and receive love. Yes, we can love those who aren't suffering too, but the deep connections we make with others are more often and more tightly forged in the fires of adversity. Just like intense heat and pressure turn coal into diamonds - pain, suffering, and sorrow turn mere acquaintances into deep friendships. Spending time with someone and sharing in their suffering creates a deep bond that cannot be duplicated in any other way. And in the sum total of things of value on this wounded sphere, love tops the list.
How great is it that the more you hurt, the more love you experience.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I just want to play with my friends
This week I went to a PAC (parent advisory council) meeting. Doug's school has a rather old playground, and the PAC has been fund raising for a while now for a new one. This meeting was to make a few decisions about what type of equipment to buy.
Seeing as Doug will be one of the users of this equipment, I went to the meeting to see what was planned.
Underneath the surface I had a slight feeling of apprehension. What do I do if the equipment they're looking at isn't "Doug friendly"? How big a priority is accessibility? The school playground is where many of the deepest friendships in your life are cemented. How many of us have friends from "way back" whose relationship has survived the fickle sands of time? All due to the hours of playing on the monkey bars, adventure playground and soccer fields. It's pretty important. On the other hand, who am I to hold hostage the selection of new equipment just because my ONE child can't use it? That isn't fair at all either. This stuff serves hundreds of other kids a year, and will long outlast Doug's time at school.
How can I strike a balance between making my point and being a team player? Do I really have to prepare myself to go into another battle on Doug's behalf? Don't get me wrong, I'll gladly do it - my trusty shield may be a little dented by now, but I'm still game.
It turns out that my worries were all for naught. The PAC has a Recreational Therapist (I hope I got that right) on board with the planning. She's been considering accessibility for all sorts of disabilities, and assisting in the planning to make something that is fun for everyone - including those who come with their own needs. The PAC members continually considered the accessibility angle, and demonstrated an extremely inclusive approach. It looks like I can sit this battle out. The enemy - if any - is outnumbered by friends of Doug here.
You can talk all you want about accessibility. Surface type, transition points, upper and lower body equipment, play paths, etc. But when it all comes down to it, I think I can succinctly voice my opinion on what type of equipment to get:
Seeing as Doug will be one of the users of this equipment, I went to the meeting to see what was planned.
Underneath the surface I had a slight feeling of apprehension. What do I do if the equipment they're looking at isn't "Doug friendly"? How big a priority is accessibility? The school playground is where many of the deepest friendships in your life are cemented. How many of us have friends from "way back" whose relationship has survived the fickle sands of time? All due to the hours of playing on the monkey bars, adventure playground and soccer fields. It's pretty important. On the other hand, who am I to hold hostage the selection of new equipment just because my ONE child can't use it? That isn't fair at all either. This stuff serves hundreds of other kids a year, and will long outlast Doug's time at school.
How can I strike a balance between making my point and being a team player? Do I really have to prepare myself to go into another battle on Doug's behalf? Don't get me wrong, I'll gladly do it - my trusty shield may be a little dented by now, but I'm still game.
It turns out that my worries were all for naught. The PAC has a Recreational Therapist (I hope I got that right) on board with the planning. She's been considering accessibility for all sorts of disabilities, and assisting in the planning to make something that is fun for everyone - including those who come with their own needs. The PAC members continually considered the accessibility angle, and demonstrated an extremely inclusive approach. It looks like I can sit this battle out. The enemy - if any - is outnumbered by friends of Doug here.
You can talk all you want about accessibility. Surface type, transition points, upper and lower body equipment, play paths, etc. But when it all comes down to it, I think I can succinctly voice my opinion on what type of equipment to get:
I just want Doug to be able to play with his friends.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
A Time for Thanksgiving
Today, a friend of mine, a thinker, gave the sermon. It was his first, and he did a really good job in spite of what looked like a healthy case of the nerves. What he did for me was remind me of perspective. Ecclesiastes 3 has the famous passage about "for every thing, there is a season. A time for..." Another passage that sprung to my mind as he preached was 1 Thessalonians 5:18 "... in everything give thanks..."
On the one hand, there is a season for everything. A time to weep, and a time to laugh - and given today's date (Thanksgiving), a time to give thanks. So I've dedicated today's writing session to a challenge to myself. I'm going to write today about Thanksgiving. I'm going to attempt to capture ways that I am thankful for Doug's Muscular Dystrophy. Fasten your seat belts, I don't know where this will end up.
I am thankful for the people I have met on this journey. When you meet people who are going through, or have been through something like this, the emotional bonds you create with them are incredibly deep. A shared experience like this produces a connection that would otherwise take years and years to build.
I am thankful for my friends and family. They may not know it, but I draw deeply on their emotional and physical support. They meet needs both large and small without knowing it, and often without proper recognition or thanks.
I am thankful for the way I have experienced the generousity of strangers. Through Doug's needs, I have a renewed hope in the "spirit of mankind". "Religious" or not, God has built people with a inner desire to be charitable to each other. We don't see this everyday, as most of us have built walls up to hide behind. Give people an excuse though, and watch love and kindness flow out of the most unlikely people. Take a step back, and watch God coordinate the charity of many unrelated threads into a completed tapestry. I am thankful for being able to watch the the Master Weaver at work here. (Heck, did you see how many bikers showed up for the Vancouver Toy Run today in the cold rain?)
I am thankful for the slow progression of DMD. I get to wake up each day to a son who looks and acts very much like the day and week before. I am thankful that I don't yet have to lie awake at night wondering if I've hugged Doug for the last time.
I am thankful for the talented medical care that our much maligned system manages to provide. In spite of all of the complaining of the "broken system", we've managed to be cared for by an army of first rate "ists".
I am thankful for the way that I am now more in tune with the emotional hurts and needs of others. The only way you can empathize with others is to have experienced pain and sorrow yourself. I am no longer constrained to offer only sympathy. I feel I have been able to move from acquaintance to friend with a few people because of this. And I am richer for it.
I am thankful for the way that I am forced to admit on a daily basis that I don't have the strength to make it on my own. I'm not weaker than I was before, I'm just more honest with myself.
I am thankful for the brief glimpses into what is really important in life. Relationships and strength of character. All other things on earth are time limited, but my relationships with God and people, and the character I build while I am still breathing will last forever.
I am thankful for the kick in the pants that writing stuff down has been for me. I've never been a journaller, or a diary person. But I can recognize what a great tool it is for organizing your thoughts and emotions. And if my ramblings can lead even one person towards a deeper understanding of their own world, or supply a ray of hope in a dark world, what is not to be thankful for?
I cannot hear the phrase "well, at least you've got your health" anymore without a small lump in my throat. But I still can be thankful for things. Thankfulness doesn't have to be expressed with only a smile on your face. It is not an emotion - it is a mindset. Tears of pain and hurt can co-exist with thankfulness. And at my house, they do.
"In everything give thanks..." I think I understand the author a little bit better now. We are not instructed to be thankful for everything that happens to us - we are exhorted to be thankful in the midst of it. Bring on the turkey.
On the one hand, there is a season for everything. A time to weep, and a time to laugh - and given today's date (Thanksgiving), a time to give thanks. So I've dedicated today's writing session to a challenge to myself. I'm going to write today about Thanksgiving. I'm going to attempt to capture ways that I am thankful for Doug's Muscular Dystrophy. Fasten your seat belts, I don't know where this will end up.
I am thankful for the people I have met on this journey. When you meet people who are going through, or have been through something like this, the emotional bonds you create with them are incredibly deep. A shared experience like this produces a connection that would otherwise take years and years to build.
I am thankful for my friends and family. They may not know it, but I draw deeply on their emotional and physical support. They meet needs both large and small without knowing it, and often without proper recognition or thanks.
I am thankful for the way I have experienced the generousity of strangers. Through Doug's needs, I have a renewed hope in the "spirit of mankind". "Religious" or not, God has built people with a inner desire to be charitable to each other. We don't see this everyday, as most of us have built walls up to hide behind. Give people an excuse though, and watch love and kindness flow out of the most unlikely people. Take a step back, and watch God coordinate the charity of many unrelated threads into a completed tapestry. I am thankful for being able to watch the the Master Weaver at work here. (Heck, did you see how many bikers showed up for the Vancouver Toy Run today in the cold rain?)
I am thankful for the slow progression of DMD. I get to wake up each day to a son who looks and acts very much like the day and week before. I am thankful that I don't yet have to lie awake at night wondering if I've hugged Doug for the last time.
I am thankful for the talented medical care that our much maligned system manages to provide. In spite of all of the complaining of the "broken system", we've managed to be cared for by an army of first rate "ists".
I am thankful for the way that I am now more in tune with the emotional hurts and needs of others. The only way you can empathize with others is to have experienced pain and sorrow yourself. I am no longer constrained to offer only sympathy. I feel I have been able to move from acquaintance to friend with a few people because of this. And I am richer for it.
I am thankful for the way that I am forced to admit on a daily basis that I don't have the strength to make it on my own. I'm not weaker than I was before, I'm just more honest with myself.
I am thankful for the brief glimpses into what is really important in life. Relationships and strength of character. All other things on earth are time limited, but my relationships with God and people, and the character I build while I am still breathing will last forever.
I am thankful for the kick in the pants that writing stuff down has been for me. I've never been a journaller, or a diary person. But I can recognize what a great tool it is for organizing your thoughts and emotions. And if my ramblings can lead even one person towards a deeper understanding of their own world, or supply a ray of hope in a dark world, what is not to be thankful for?
I cannot hear the phrase "well, at least you've got your health" anymore without a small lump in my throat. But I still can be thankful for things. Thankfulness doesn't have to be expressed with only a smile on your face. It is not an emotion - it is a mindset. Tears of pain and hurt can co-exist with thankfulness. And at my house, they do.
"In everything give thanks..." I think I understand the author a little bit better now. We are not instructed to be thankful for everything that happens to us - we are exhorted to be thankful in the midst of it. Bring on the turkey.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
So what is a "clinic" anyways?
I've had a number of people ask me about Doug's medical appointment schedule. I complain a lot about it, but I don't know if I've ever really described it. We had one of his semi-annual "Neuromuscular Clinic" appointments last week. (Tuesday-Wednesday) Here's a brief snapshot of what that is like.
Tuesday
-------
8:00am - Meet the Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon. A couple things come to mind here. Note the time. This is not a time of day that is very compatible with our family. The appointment is at BC Children's Hospital downtown. This means a VERY early start - we're looking at traveling in the peak of rush hour. We book a hotel room for the night before that is 15 minutes from the hospital. Anyhow, this particular doctor is one of Doug's favorites. It doesn't take too much convincing to get him to sit still for his examination. The prognosis? Everything is still looking reasonable from an orthopedic point of view. No night splints, special shoe inserts, or other adaptive measures are needed at this time. It's good to have an "easy" appointment up first.
9:00am - Meet the Neurologist. Well, actually, we first go through a rather lengthly update and question and answer period with a medical student of some kind. The Neurologist then comes in and is briefed in by the student. We fill in any gaps, and then Doug is examined again. This involves both getting him to perform tasks (get up off of his back, walk up stairs, run, etc.) and by checking his muscle tone, flexibility, and other typical examination things. We spent a lot of time trying to get a blood pressure reading, but blood pressure is something that Doug does NOT do. Ever. We're brought up to speed on how he is doing (generally well) and encouraged to ask questions. It's not easy remembering everything she's said AND our questions and concerns, but we muddle through it. One of the things we've been wondering about is his weight. One doctor says to gain weight, the other says to lose it. We get some hard(ish) targets. 25-50th percentile for height, and 5-15th for weight. Unsurprisingly, I have no clue what he is currently at.
10:00am (planned) - Occupational Therapist. The OT, once again, is away. In all the time we've been coming to the clinic, we have never yet met his OT. In fact, we've only seen an OT once, and that was a fill-in. I'm not really sure that occupational therapists even exist - he was on a waiting list for one the entire time he was in both the Infant Development Program, and Child Development Program. He (allegedly) saw an OT a couple times on a consultation basis, but since it happened at school, I have no hard evidence...
10:00am (actual) - Instead we got to move our afternoon appointment with the nurse to the morning. She had a whole mess of questions of primarily an administrative nature. Keeping up with which programs we were on and not on, and generally trying to hold the big picture together. She updated us on the Parent Project - which is apparently starting up in Canada now. This is good news. We tried to get Doug weighed and measured, and he really hated that. Another half hearted attempt to get a blood pressure reading was made - and failed miserably.
11:00am - Physiotherapist. Another session of questions. She must have had a 10 page document where we updated her on everything including: how far Doug can walk without resting, what kind of car we drive, how many stairs are in our house, and which side the railing is on. Then Doug had to submit himself to a very thorough examination of flexibility and strength. With a variety of measuring tools, she worked her way through what had to be 3 pages of roughly 50 measurements. Doug did remarkably well in trying to follow her directions. Allison did a pretty fair job of keeping up with writing down all of the answers too! Prognosis? Not too bad. The steroids seem to be giving him strength for now. We need to do a bit more work on stretching his hamstrings and heel cords. Guilty Parent Syndrome.
Somewhere in there we also met with a Muscular Dystrophy Canada volunteer. She told us about some of the things MDC was up to, and some upcoming seminars. We also had another session with the nurse. The paperwork never ceases.
There were a few more things too, but I can't for the life of me remember them now. We ended up heading out of Vancouver mid-afternoonish. We were very brain fried.
Wednesday
--------
10:20am - Back at Children's for day 2. At least this time we didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn. First appointment was a bone density scan. I had never seen one of these before, so I didn't quite know how to prep Doug. By this point in his life, he has had enough medical tests and examinations to be (understandably) hesitant. Asking him to lie _completely_ still on a moving table while a machine makes noise and moves an ominous looking arm back and forth over his body for several minutes at a time was NOT looking good. The technicians were spectacular. (I guess you wouldn't work at that hospital if you didn't have a way with kids) They managed to convince him to lie down. We held him still with (just a little) masking tape, and they managed to get a few passable scans. No word on results is expected until our next clinic visit. I expect this is baseline data.
2:20pm - Cardiology. Well, the heart is a muscle too, so cardiology is very interested in Doug. And Doug, well, as nice as the people are, just doesn't want to do blood pressure. He wasn't keen on the EKG either - but it was far less of a battle than his previous 3. Those stickers really don't like to come off of his tender little skin - and he remembers it. Follow that up with an ultrasound - another challenge to attach electrodes and have him lie still. By the time we saw the cardiologist in person (the previous tests being done by 3-4 different technicians) I'm pretty burned out. Burying my stress and being "Calm And Reassuring Man" to my kid for 2 days of intense testing takes a lot out of me. There is nothing really new to report from cardiology. Doug's heart is still slightly enlarged, and the doctor is proposing some medication to ease the workload on his heart. The catch is that there is no hard evidence to show that it WILL do anything. But it _probably_ has _some_ benefit, while carrying a _low_ likelihood of _somewhat_ adverse side effects. How's that for hard medical evidence to make a decision on? We've filled the prescription, but are doing to do a little looking on our own first before deciding whether or not to give it to him. We weren't in a frame of mind to make that sort of decision on that day. The doctor respected that, and was completely fine with our approach.
So, after a "lighter" second day, we hit rush hour to battle our way back home.
And there you have it, a glimpse into a couple of days of medical appointments. This clinic repeats itself every 6 months in our lives. It is a little more involved, and a little longer each time 'round. So if you see me looking a little drained after one of these, please be patient and understanding. Thanks.
Oh yeah. We were home for about half an hour before we had to be at school for Meet The Teacher night. I hope the teacher doesn't think we're normally zombies.
Tuesday
-------
8:00am - Meet the Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon. A couple things come to mind here. Note the time. This is not a time of day that is very compatible with our family. The appointment is at BC Children's Hospital downtown. This means a VERY early start - we're looking at traveling in the peak of rush hour. We book a hotel room for the night before that is 15 minutes from the hospital. Anyhow, this particular doctor is one of Doug's favorites. It doesn't take too much convincing to get him to sit still for his examination. The prognosis? Everything is still looking reasonable from an orthopedic point of view. No night splints, special shoe inserts, or other adaptive measures are needed at this time. It's good to have an "easy" appointment up first.
9:00am - Meet the Neurologist. Well, actually, we first go through a rather lengthly update and question and answer period with a medical student of some kind. The Neurologist then comes in and is briefed in by the student. We fill in any gaps, and then Doug is examined again. This involves both getting him to perform tasks (get up off of his back, walk up stairs, run, etc.) and by checking his muscle tone, flexibility, and other typical examination things. We spent a lot of time trying to get a blood pressure reading, but blood pressure is something that Doug does NOT do. Ever. We're brought up to speed on how he is doing (generally well) and encouraged to ask questions. It's not easy remembering everything she's said AND our questions and concerns, but we muddle through it. One of the things we've been wondering about is his weight. One doctor says to gain weight, the other says to lose it. We get some hard(ish) targets. 25-50th percentile for height, and 5-15th for weight. Unsurprisingly, I have no clue what he is currently at.
10:00am (planned) - Occupational Therapist. The OT, once again, is away. In all the time we've been coming to the clinic, we have never yet met his OT. In fact, we've only seen an OT once, and that was a fill-in. I'm not really sure that occupational therapists even exist - he was on a waiting list for one the entire time he was in both the Infant Development Program, and Child Development Program. He (allegedly) saw an OT a couple times on a consultation basis, but since it happened at school, I have no hard evidence...
10:00am (actual) - Instead we got to move our afternoon appointment with the nurse to the morning. She had a whole mess of questions of primarily an administrative nature. Keeping up with which programs we were on and not on, and generally trying to hold the big picture together. She updated us on the Parent Project - which is apparently starting up in Canada now. This is good news. We tried to get Doug weighed and measured, and he really hated that. Another half hearted attempt to get a blood pressure reading was made - and failed miserably.
11:00am - Physiotherapist. Another session of questions. She must have had a 10 page document where we updated her on everything including: how far Doug can walk without resting, what kind of car we drive, how many stairs are in our house, and which side the railing is on. Then Doug had to submit himself to a very thorough examination of flexibility and strength. With a variety of measuring tools, she worked her way through what had to be 3 pages of roughly 50 measurements. Doug did remarkably well in trying to follow her directions. Allison did a pretty fair job of keeping up with writing down all of the answers too! Prognosis? Not too bad. The steroids seem to be giving him strength for now. We need to do a bit more work on stretching his hamstrings and heel cords. Guilty Parent Syndrome.
Somewhere in there we also met with a Muscular Dystrophy Canada volunteer. She told us about some of the things MDC was up to, and some upcoming seminars. We also had another session with the nurse. The paperwork never ceases.
There were a few more things too, but I can't for the life of me remember them now. We ended up heading out of Vancouver mid-afternoonish. We were very brain fried.
Wednesday
--------
10:20am - Back at Children's for day 2. At least this time we didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn. First appointment was a bone density scan. I had never seen one of these before, so I didn't quite know how to prep Doug. By this point in his life, he has had enough medical tests and examinations to be (understandably) hesitant. Asking him to lie _completely_ still on a moving table while a machine makes noise and moves an ominous looking arm back and forth over his body for several minutes at a time was NOT looking good. The technicians were spectacular. (I guess you wouldn't work at that hospital if you didn't have a way with kids) They managed to convince him to lie down. We held him still with (just a little) masking tape, and they managed to get a few passable scans. No word on results is expected until our next clinic visit. I expect this is baseline data.
2:20pm - Cardiology. Well, the heart is a muscle too, so cardiology is very interested in Doug. And Doug, well, as nice as the people are, just doesn't want to do blood pressure. He wasn't keen on the EKG either - but it was far less of a battle than his previous 3. Those stickers really don't like to come off of his tender little skin - and he remembers it. Follow that up with an ultrasound - another challenge to attach electrodes and have him lie still. By the time we saw the cardiologist in person (the previous tests being done by 3-4 different technicians) I'm pretty burned out. Burying my stress and being "Calm And Reassuring Man" to my kid for 2 days of intense testing takes a lot out of me. There is nothing really new to report from cardiology. Doug's heart is still slightly enlarged, and the doctor is proposing some medication to ease the workload on his heart. The catch is that there is no hard evidence to show that it WILL do anything. But it _probably_ has _some_ benefit, while carrying a _low_ likelihood of _somewhat_ adverse side effects. How's that for hard medical evidence to make a decision on? We've filled the prescription, but are doing to do a little looking on our own first before deciding whether or not to give it to him. We weren't in a frame of mind to make that sort of decision on that day. The doctor respected that, and was completely fine with our approach.
So, after a "lighter" second day, we hit rush hour to battle our way back home.
And there you have it, a glimpse into a couple of days of medical appointments. This clinic repeats itself every 6 months in our lives. It is a little more involved, and a little longer each time 'round. So if you see me looking a little drained after one of these, please be patient and understanding. Thanks.
Oh yeah. We were home for about half an hour before we had to be at school for Meet The Teacher night. I hope the teacher doesn't think we're normally zombies.
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