Yearly Torture
I bit the bullet and called Erik's cardiologist's office today to schedule his sedated echocardiogram. I did this after receiving a cheerful "friendly reminder" postcard in the mail to prompt us to do this. It was the kind of reminder I receive when I am due to have my teeth scraped, I have a date with my gynecologist, or my cat needs her shots. It seemed so...casual.
I admit it. I'm still slightly put off by perky office staff who do their jobs quite professionally but don't seem to realize our very lives depend on the results of the tests performed by their doctors. Dammit, there should be more fanfare upon our scheduling these appointments and our arrival at the door with a child who has been n.p.o since midnight. Angels singing? Free chardonnay for nervous mothers? I mean, would it kill them to offer parents a sedative? Tranquilizer dart? Brown paper bag to breathe into? Bong hit?
For God's sake, shouldn't there be hugs from a certified counselor at the door?
No. We're on our own and can't control a thing. We must accept that. We sit and attempt to appear as completely normal according to society's standards as possible and enjoy a copy of Highlights Magazine from August of 1983 (which will likely be upside down in my hands, anyway) while we smile at patients and staff who enter the lobby as if we are having high tea, not knowing if our kid's arteries have deteriorated. We must sit on pins and needles, knowing the doctor will run the ultrasound wand over our sedated child's slicked up chest in a dark room steeped in complete silence for what seems like an eternity before there will be any relief whatsoever. Wow, sometimes I REALLY hate being an adult.
There is a little relief for me just knowing that the date is set.
November 9, 2007, at 8 a.m.
I admit it. I'm still slightly put off by perky office staff who do their jobs quite professionally but don't seem to realize our very lives depend on the results of the tests performed by their doctors. Dammit, there should be more fanfare upon our scheduling these appointments and our arrival at the door with a child who has been n.p.o since midnight. Angels singing? Free chardonnay for nervous mothers? I mean, would it kill them to offer parents a sedative? Tranquilizer dart? Brown paper bag to breathe into? Bong hit?
For God's sake, shouldn't there be hugs from a certified counselor at the door?
No. We're on our own and can't control a thing. We must accept that. We sit and attempt to appear as completely normal according to society's standards as possible and enjoy a copy of Highlights Magazine from August of 1983 (which will likely be upside down in my hands, anyway) while we smile at patients and staff who enter the lobby as if we are having high tea, not knowing if our kid's arteries have deteriorated. We must sit on pins and needles, knowing the doctor will run the ultrasound wand over our sedated child's slicked up chest in a dark room steeped in complete silence for what seems like an eternity before there will be any relief whatsoever. Wow, sometimes I REALLY hate being an adult.
There is a little relief for me just knowing that the date is set.
November 9, 2007, at 8 a.m.
Labels: echocardiogram, waiting, Williams syndrome
posted by Nancy at 8:55 PM
8 Comments:
I agree, you should be met at the door by a certified counceller who offers you a quick shot of rum to calm your nerves. Its more waiting.
Waiting is never fun and far less fun again when somebody is in another room casually determining the future of your offsprings most vital organ.
Im glad you have a date and a goal to work through. Fingers and toes crossed the wait feels speedy and the results are great.
xxoo
I will keep you in my prayers that his cardio is okay. Noah has only had 1 sedated and that was prior to his surgery. You can imagine how his echo's go since he screams when the dentist puts on rubber gloves. These kids have been through way more than they should have been in such young lives. Noah screams, and twists the entire time. Every so often he will give me that pathetic look of "why are you letting them do this to me". I hate it. I love all you woman and am so glad we have all become friends but I would much rather it have been a book club than the WS club.
I know how you are feeling.
Something good/bad happens and the world doesn't seem to change.It goes on and nobody care.
Everything seems very mechanical.
And even the smiles you talked about looks/is very artificial and it's hard to smile back when we realize this.
Still it goes on and on and we have to accept this as it is.
I agree - a sedative would be wonderful for us moms. You always post exactly what I feel - I love your blog!! :) We will be going thru the torture the same week - Payton's appt is November 5th. We'll have to lean on each other that week.....I'm ready to get it over with now.
I will give you the flip side of this, the past 2 times we went to the cardiologist I loved leaving to because we came away with good news, that my child is one of the few WS children with a decent heart, that we dodged that bullet, and it should be celebrated...for now anyway. As we all know, or are learning as newer mothers, a clean bill of health isn't always a guarantee for our darlings as they get older.However, I suspect Erik will come out of that office with a parade with two giant elephant and a bearded lady going on, in your head at least(:
Amy
Great ideas Nance, I especially liked the tranquilizer dart and free chardonnay. We were just there and i'm still shaken up about the experience. You will have lots of thoughts and prayers going your direction on that day. We love you!
I will be think of you in NOvember too. I know there are many of us who will visit the cardio in that very month, so I hope that the month is filled with good news!!
It is scary to think about even walking into that office, let alone having to do it several times a year.
Noel
Sometimes life stinks, but we do the best we can in the moment. That's all we can expect of ourselves.
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