I knew before she was born something wasn't right.
I knew it when she cried all the time.
I knew it when she had a mouth full of cavities despite consistent care.
I knew it when she was allergic to everything on the list at the allergist.
And I knew it when she had a rare serum sickness like reaction to her first and only antibiotic back in September.
Now it's May, and I am holding her head in my lap while she cries and asks what is wrong with her. I can't fully answer. Not yet. Because I am waiting for answers. We are waiting for answers.
Everytime I see her dragging herself along the floor because her ankles hurt, I hurt.
Everytime I see her sit to play with her friends at church instead of running and jumping, I hurt.
Everytime she won't eat because it hurts, I hurt.
Everytime she looks at me with those big eyes because she has to take another supplement, another medicine, see another doctor, or get poked again, I hurt.
Everytime she has tears in her eyes because she is terrified to be away from me in case her legs stop working, my heart feels like it is being ripped from my chest.
Is this minor? Is it a big deal? Is this going to be a forever thing? Why is the next specialist on our list not available until July? Will we be okay to wait until then?
Ten doctor visits, one ER visit, three specialist visits, four blood draws, and a long line of tests later. All I have is a partial piece of the puzzle. I'm trying to be thankful for just that.
I am trying to be thankful in the waiting. Waiting for answers.
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