I've lost alot of hope this year. It seems that every time I get my hopes but about something, anything, they are dashed. Not just dashed... trampled, killed, stabbed. Every time I thought something good would happen, the worst would happen... or, if not the worst, one more damn thing to deal with.
As Adam said, I've not exactly been a little ray of sunshine this past year.
Today we took George to the allergist. I went in with zero expectations. I knew George would not be amused to see another doctor, especially if there was skin prick testing involved. I didn't know if the allergist would know about Apraxia or take my concerns seriously. This allergist is has been my husband's doctor since he was a child, but he doesn't know me. I don't know him. And, frankly, he's not delt with me before and I'm nice, but don't screw around with me.
Adam swore up and down that George's medical anxiety is only because I go with him. Hurmp. He got George all excited to see "Daddy's doctor" and promised a treat after it. As we pulled up the office building, Adam said, "Yay, let's see Daddy's doctor! George, unbuckle your seatbelt so we can go." George did so... and ran to the back of the car. Adam pulled him out and carried him inside, crying, as I took the other three to Camp Grandma for the morning.
When I returned, I tried not to hyperventilate as I walked by the "sick child" walk-in clinic. I resisted the urge to use ALL THE HAND SANITIZER and breathe through my mouth to avoid the smell of the medical plaza. Adam and George had already been taken back and the nurse at the front desk chirped, "I bet George will be glad to see his mommy! He's upset."
I laughed. "Nope. He has medical anxiety. It's always like this." Indeed, George was hiding under the chairs in the exam room, crying and cuddling his penguin. I shot Adam an "I told you so" look as I helped him fill out medical forms. I think I promised the kid a pony AND a trip to Build A Bear if he would come out. No dice. In the end, we left him alone. (And Adam admitted the kid has some anxiety. George's HR and BP were slightly elevated.)
The doctor took everything into consideration and said that he thinks it is more of an intolerance than an allergy. We can start reintroducing foods one at a time over a two week period. He said to use common sense; don't over load the kid but don't give him minute amounts either. He said G could have PB toast at Grandma's house and he was thrilled! Adam was thrilled to have normal bread and rolls again.
After a quick trip to the toy store for a treat, we picked up the kids at Camp Grandma, had PB toast and went home. Adam has promised all of us Chinese food tonight!
George has a buddy in his preschool class. She's a sweetie pie and her mom and I were in the same student teaching class in school. It's crazy how small the world is sometimes!
They came over the other night and we chatted about the trials and tribulations of dealing with our kids' needs at VBS or CCD. (Check the June archives for the whole mess that was VBS.) I joked about how the RE "threatens" to make me George's CCD teacher and how I am NOT an early childhood person. My friend, however, IS and we joke that we should take turns teaching our kids' CCD classes.
And for a minute there, I had hope.
Hope that if we work together, we can meet our kids needs.
Hope that George can return to VBS and will have a friend in class. Maybe he could do it.
Hope that I am not fighting the invisible special needs battle at our parish ALONE. Hope that I can have someone to work the ins and outs of sacrament prep, CCD, VBS and acceptance with me. That it is not me and my family against the Crazy Church Lady and the rest of the people who want kids with special needs set aside.
Hope that... we can make this work.
For a minute there, I had hope.
I still do. Slowly, maybe, this thing with feathers is coming back.