I'm running in circles. And there's no end in sight.
I sat there in the lab today holding her with all my might while she flailed around trying to escape the ominous needle drawing her blood for another test. As she slipped out of my grip a couple times in her panic I thought to myself, "something has just got to give." This poor girl hates doctors. If it's not the pediatrician, it's the ENT. Or the neurologist. Or the geneticist. Or the orthopedic specialist. Or the allergist. And man oh man has she ever learned to hate those places. As soon as we step foot in one of those enclosed offices she throws a fit. And I don't blame her one bit. In fact, I wish I could join her and we could cry it out together. She's sick of it and so am I.
Each time we try a new doctor it happens: I get my hopes up. I gear up thinking to myself this one is the one that will have some answers for us. This is the doctor that will make everything clear, tell us what we need to do. Give us a prescription to fix everything. But every time I leave I feel my heart sink. No more answers. No more information. Just more questions and more worry.
The geneticist told us Lucy may have some weird disorder I came home and looked up and knew right away that's not it. She told us she wants us to do more blood tests, but somehow can't get us the lab order.
The neurologist told us the MRI was "normal" but that there was a small cyst in the brain. I told him that was probably her strawberry hemangioma. He looked at his records and told me I was right.
The allergist told me her crazy break-out of hives and hundreds of red dots all over her body a couple weeks ago, and her continual goopy eyes that are sometimes swollen closed in the mornings may be due to something as insignificant as sensitive skin. I'm sorry but I know he's wrong.
The ENT had us wait for so darn long that by the time he arrived to take a look at Lucy she was a complete basket case. In a very impressive fit of "I'm done being here" she smacked her face on the floor in desperation, popping her lip open resulting in blood all over and giving the doctor not even a sliver of a possibility to check out her ears, nose or throat. She was simply not having it. And that was that.
The pediatrician gave me a guilt trip when I told him I didn't want to do vaccinations. But in my heart I feel like we need to wait.
My point is that the more "circles" I go in, the more I come to the conclusion that no doctor has the answer. No one's going to give me a prescription to fix everything. These doctors may be experts in their own individual fields, but they're not experts on Lucy. I've realized that I'm the expert there. The one and only. I'm with her 24/7. I'm her mother. I adore the air she breathes. I know that she loves bananas more than life itself. I know that she hates being in water. I know the look she gives when she understands but she just wants to act stubborn. I'm the one who sits with her for hours each week while therapists work with her on various new skills. I'm the one who's heart yearns to pick her up in the middle of the night and just snuggle with her (I don't do it...I'm not that crazy...but that doesn't mean I don't want to). I'm the one who, even when she's screaming and throwing her best signature tantrum, my heart melts to see those crocodile tears run down those chubby cheeks and fill her long eyelashes plump with moisture.
I may not be a health expert, but I am her expert. And I'll get to the bottom of this...some day. Until then I'll snuggle her up and watch. And pray. Because I love that girl with all my heart. And someone who loves you that dearly is the best kind of expert to have on your side.
A Visit to Uncle Nate's
1 hour ago