The winter boots are still in the closet.
It’s June 12th.
Actually Meghan’s room has a basket of winter boots that are not only off-season, but are too small for her.
It’s June 12th, and that is definitely a new record for me.
In my old life clothes got changed systematically in April, and early October. Jackets got washed, shoes got put away.
That was my old life. I don’t remember it much.
I don’t really have a big closet. The spring shoes are upstairs in the hallway. All over the floor. I’ve been getting one pair at a time as I need them, but if I don’t hurry and make the switch soon winter shoes will take over my bedroom floor.
Thankfully, Mother Nature seems confused about the season. That is buying me some time.
In my old life, nothing was really on the floor – ever.
We went to the doctor today. Shocking news really, I know.
We went to the doctor today in hopes of replacing the endocrinologist with someone more open-minded, and “outside the box.”
What we got instead was a closed box, closed-minded,”I won’t take on your kid, so stay where you are” doctor, in a really bad suit. (And I’m not much about fashion – so you know it was a REALLY bad suit.)
I had lots of time to look at her, and the suit while I used my hand to keep my mouth from spilling out my actual thoughts and embarrassing my daughter.
I brought the 3 page synopsis of tests, hospitalizations, and medications.
I brought the 3 INCH binder full of lab tests and pathology reports.
I brought the CD of the neck sonogram.
She glanced at her most recent blood work. She told me her TSH was too high. She told me she needed more Synthroid. She told me her current team was just fine. Then she told me twice they were better suited to treat a Cowden’s Syndrome patient than she. Feel like a leper much?
I asked all sorts of questions. I asked about T3, and potential problems with synthetic absorption. I reminded her that in addition to PTEN she has an MTHFR mutation which impacts her ability to process B12. I asked if there could be anything else she has trouble processing. (Hint Hint… synthetic thyroid hormone?)
“You’re very smart,” she tells me. “You know a lot,” she says. Yet, she deflects my questions like a goalie with a hockey puck.
News flash. I don’t need stroking – just answers.
But I watch my tongue. And I watch my tone, because my daughter is watching my every move, my body language, my attitude. She is using my response to gauge whether she needs to be uptight.
I asked what was the upper limit for synthroid. I was told there was none. I was told that the dose would just continue to be increased. I was told she would likely reach .200 mcg. I expressed concern. I was told not to worry. The body only absorbs a percentage of the synthetics. Um, that would be the point of my worry. She doesn’t have a good history of secreting junk.
I got a lesson on the pituitary and the up and down regulation of TSH. I was told when to dose the medicine. I reminded her I have been on thyroid replacement for 27 years.
She asked me if she had answered all my questions. In my old life I might have politely said, “yes.” But, this is not my old life. I smiled, shook her hand, and said “No, actually you didn’t, but I don’t think you know the answers.” Then we left.
In my old life things were neater, and more orderly in every aspect. Sometimes I miss the order. But not for long. There is nothing orderly about this kid, except her behavior (98% of the time,) and I am learning to embrace the chaos.
She woke this morning feeling like real crap. Exhausted from swim practice (she made it almost through) and fifth grade trip yesterday. She hurts. She is mellow. She has fun with the kids, but she’s not herself.
Maybe it will just take time, but hours and weeks and months of childhood seem to be ticking away.
I pushed her today to start making dates with friends for the summer. Her friend’s parents must think I am weird.
It’s as important, or MORE important to plan pay time as it is to plan doctor’s appointments – for so many reasons. And since we have so many appointments, I want to start with the friend time – NOW.
We live in the middle of New York City. One would think finding pediatric endocrinology in the mood for a challenge would be much simpler than this. Instead I am left to return to the surgeon on Monday, so he can validate himself by telling me he doesn’t feel anything in her neck. And then, back to see the resident of her endocrinologist in July. (The actual doctor takes off February, July and August – so he has yet to see her since the surgery.)
Life is not ours to plan. But, we have to try to schedule the fun stuff before the days get away.
We RSVP while holding our breath.
There is more “One day at a time…” than I have ever known.
Maybe there will be some time to get those snow boots away. In the mean time, if you do stop by- don’t judge the hallway. Or the closet. Or the dog fur.
I took a walk yesterday, and another one today. I listened to music. It’s a slow process, but I am working on my emotional health.
It seems to be the only thing I can control.
I am working on those foundation stones for Meghan’s bridge.
And in the mean time, if you happen to need any snow boots – I can get them for you in a hurry. I know exactly where they are.