For the first time ever I’m handing over the keys to the blog and letting someone else drive this jalopy down the internets for a post. Of course there’s only person I could possibly entrust this great responsibility to and so the honor goes to…
As you’ll see she’s clearly overwhelmed with jealousy about my blog and all its success and decided to get back at me by outblogging me on my own blog. I mean, she is good at this. Big surprise. She is better than me at most things.
So without further adieu… take it away Mom…
I would like to thank my wonderful husband for so graciously allowing me to be guest writer on his awesome blog. I have always had great ambitions to start my own but never could quite muster the effort to design and set it all up, post consistently and do the work to cultivate a following, so here I am capitalizing on Eric’s hard work. Hopefully, he”ll have me back if I don’t sully his blog’s good reputation and/or garner some comments (hint). Also, there will be no references to such things as Star Trek, Battlestar Gallactica, Dr. Who or any of the other super geeky shows he watches late at night instead of sleeping.
Guest Post Volume One: The Big Picture
I clearly remember our first appointment at the GI clinic in the basement of Hasbro. It’s a veritable food court of doctor’s down there. Specialities we don’t even deal with are there like Liver disease and endocrinology, the GI clinic is one about about 12 different practices all with one giant waiting area.
After the initial shock and confusion of seeing the smorgasbord of options we eventually found the right desk to check in at by following a green line painted on a floor full of lines in every color, and sat in the common waiting area hoping for our name to be called next. (note: I can’t help but get the feeling we’ve won something every time we get called, I know it’s going to happen, but it still seems like a small victory that are we being brought into the maze of exam rooms and no longer waiting with all the suckers still stuck out there)
Now this was our first appointment at the GI clinic but not our first appointment overall, they all go pretty much the same: height, weight, what meds is Liam on?, 20 minute conversation about meds, (although I have learned to write his meds down on an index card ahead of time and then when they ask I can just hand it over and often they just staple it to Liam’s phone book of a chart) and then sit and wait for the doctor. Once he or she arrives its a lot of questions and going over meds again, commenting on my awesome index card system and then the plan for what we are doing going forward and finally the discussion as to when we should return.
All in all it’s not a painful process, assuming there are no shots or anything, and Liam is most often a model patient if not completely asleep. It’s just a bunch of effort and work: getting ready to go, going, getting there, parking, walking to the right office, waiting, talking, waiting, talking more,waiting more, making appointments, walking back to the car, paying for parking angrily and coming home and recovering and getting back on our daily schedule.
We walked out of the exam room maze area and were waiting to make our next appointment we were feeling great, it was a good appointment, there were no major changes, and we had an easy GI plan to follow . It was then that I saw a Mom and her son coming towards us to check in. I found myself having of those out of body moments of clarity. The trigger was her son.
He was in a wheelchair but beyond that I am not even going to speculate a diagnosis out of respect for them both, but what struck me was his age. He had to have been at least sixteen years old. It was not until that moment that I realized that this game we had just begun to play goes on and on. I realized that my son won’t grow up and leave the nest, like so many others do. This Mom had been in “the game” for what had to be 16+ years. She looked at me (I am quite sure I had a puzzled look on my face) and she smiled and said something about Liam’s glasses. She was so nice and friendly not just to me but to the desk person and the other nurses milling around. They quickly checked in and went and sat down to wait for their name to called.
She sat and talked to her son and held his hand so softly it was beyond obvious that she was a great mother. I looked at Liam, he was contently looking at a painting, no doubt questioning why the artist painted the puffer fish half the size of the shark as I pointed it out to him on our way in. I squeezed his hand and he looked over at me and out loud I told him, “yup, I’m in.”
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized our situation was for a life time, we had survived living day by day for so long when things where so tough and up in the air, and suddenly I saw the big picture. I guess it was always there, but it somehow, at that moment, it finally snapped into focus. There was no moment of dread, but more a moment of “can I possibly do this?”, but in the next moment I saw that Mom with her son, I could see the love and connection between them and then Iooking at my Liam looking at me I just knew it would be ok.
Our life and raising our son is so unique, so many people just don’t get it and it’s frustrating, and then once in a while there are others who do get it and its such a relief – we aren’t so alone. I barely spoke to this woman, but just her being in the same place at the same time at a completely different stage in her son’s life and seeing them both so content was an inspiration. She reminded me of the fact that we didn’t choose this life time of a journey but we can do it and I’m ready for it to go on forever, even though the GI clinic would never let us schedule ahead that far.
[Editor’s Note: I told you she was good. Now tell her to get her own blog.]