Today was our first appointment with Katie’s new PMR doctor (Physical Medicine doctor) and it was definitely an interesting appointment for a few reasons. First off apparently my daughter has a bias against white haired men with a white beard so I’m not really sure how much she’s going to love meeting Santa for the first time this year. I imagine lots of screaming, because that’s what she did the entire appointment. She’d stop for a moment look to see if he was still there and start screaming again. So I may be slightly deaf today in my left ear but whatever. Wooo parenthood!
So the meat and potatoes of the appointment is this, he has no idea why Katie is so behind developmentally, meaning physical wise. She doesn’t crawl, she doesn’t walk however she scoots in circles when she wants to. Personally I feel it’s because she’s only really been able to do PT for the last almost 6 months but I’m not a doctor and that’s why we take her to a specialist. Anyhow he said she’s a mixed toned patient and that he wants to order x-rays of her spine and hips to rule out scoliosis which actually does run on my side of the family. He wants her to have a MRI done after her 3rd birthday, which I’ve agreed to. Lastly he starts talking about her face, how her ears are shaped, that she has a weak chin whereas I have a strong chin and finally her eye shape and set and says he would like her to have genetic testing done. Part of me is like “FUCK, I have to tell my crazy husband this” another part is like “wait she has my eye shape and set, do I have something genetically wrong with me?” a part of me is completely calm and the last part of me is internally screaming. We talked calmly about it and he mentioned how pleased he was with the progress she’s making in therapies and that he’ll see us back in September so obviously it’s not an emergency situation. I get the scripts and leave.
I get my sweet little girl into her car seat, I start driving and the freaked out part of me comes to a head. I have a disturbing ability to push that shit down and stay calm with the doctor. The entire time I’m thinking oh my god what if it’s genetic, is this my fault? Because as parents we sure do love to blame ourselves for anything and everything. Wooo parenthood. I’m thinking shit I have to call my husband and he’s going to flip his lid and go into a mental spiral where Katie will never be normal, living with us her entire life and our retirement savings will go to her care after we are dead. (He tends to freak the fuck out and jumps ahead to basically a dystopian future, it’s super annoying). So instead I turn on Queen’s “The show must go on” play it 3 times cry a little while I’m driving on the freeway. I dry my tears and pull myself together, take a deep breath and realize I am being silly.
When she gets the testing done only two things could possibly happen it shows up with something so now we have a diagnosis that hopefully we can work with or it comes up clean and rules out a whole slew of genetic issues which would be a good thing. Either way it’s a good thing, either we will know what’s up or we will know for sure that she doesn’t have a whole bunch of genetic stuff.
At this point, I just want answers and if there is something wrong, so what, we will deal just as we have been for the last two and a half years. Will it be harder? sure but isn’t that what life is all about a whole lot of sadness and hardship for a moment of happiness. Katie’s happy no matter what’s going on, whether its genetic or she’s building up strength physically, Katie is happy. She’s healthy, she’s thriving and she’s beautiful just the way she is.
So I’ll leave you with this on this cloudy, gloomy Friday, as Queen’s lyrics go “I’ll face it with a grin, I’m never giving in, the show must go on!”
I hope you all have a lovely Memorial Day weekend, I imagine I’ll probably post something about Memorial Day after I’ve gotten some sleep.