Every time...without fail...I have to fight through that "oh crap" sinking gut before I have the courage to break the seal. Sometimes...I'm not ready on the spot either. And I'll set the thing on a shelf. Where...no lie...I hear evil little voices taunting me every time I'm within ear shot. Until I finally cave and open it.
Most times it's something silly. Like a survey. Or a reminder. Or a notice that such n' such service is capped or no longer supported by our State. Rhode Island has been rolling services heads (most of which I don't take advantage of...and will someday share some of my thoughts regarding) left & right. This was precisely why I was SO fret-a-licious about Trevy's surgery being covered. It's why my confidence was wavering. I know that's old news. But still...
Sometimes it's a bill. I loath the bills. Hate the bills. Death to the bills! Especially the ones that I thought I'd already handled. And the majority of my sinking gut reaction is wrapped up in the random bill issues...dressed all smart in white envelopes. I hate them because even though it's usually an easy resolve. The resolution always involves phone call. I am SO not a phone girl. And besides I'm convinced Ms. Cranky on the other end has been waiting all day. Just for me! Maybe you didn't know...but I once worked in a call center. Collections. I was the nice girl. But Ms. take-out-my-stress-on-the-stranger was in the cube next to me. I know the tone well. And am prickly off the bat. Although...in the spirit of integrity...the past two times I've had bill issues I did get lucky. Mr. & Ms. Nice respectively. I thanked both of them until I could hear the blush in their voices!
But sometimes the envelope holds something more. The printed thoughts. From Dr. Development. Or Neuro. Or Rockstar. And even though I half dread reading the notes. Because doctors have a way of framing my child so that my heart breaks a just little more. I'm also half hungry to read their mind. I crave a firm grip in reality. Which is why cliche people drive me bonkers!
**Insert recent stupid filter moment...which may I warn you in advance IS ranty**
I use wit to break the ice. Okay. And to help my heart. Which would be why when I learned that Trevy was a surgical candidate I said "I hope his curls grow back!" Honestly...although I adore his curls and do hope they grow back...curls are really very low on my priority list! I was being witty. Or at least trying. And I've discovered Cliche Lovers just can't help themselves. I should probably cut them slack. I mean...what DO you say to someone who's standing in the brain surgery line? My recommendation? Nothing is better than something...if that something is cliche. But that's just me. I sure wish the Cliche Abuser that left me the little nugget "Just ask God...He WANTS you to ask" would have embraced my mute philosophy. Because unintentionally so-n-so sent me through the roof! I HATE that style. I mean...for cryin' out loud...if all I had to do was ASK? All this time? WTH am I doing here?! With Seizure SATURATED Boy? Standing in the flippin' brain surgery line? When all I had to do was just ask?!?!?!
I was getting somewhere!
The other day...my heart sank with the envelope in the mail. And when I finally found the courage to open it. Inside where the notes from the Epilepsy Surgery Conference. Held August 17th, 2009. I won't bore you with all the deets. Just a few.
- Trevor...is a 2 year old left-handed boy from Rhode Island - this line made Jonathan chuckle.
- ...with intractable epileptic spasms - see...this is what I'm talking about. Did you hear my heart crack a little more?
- ACTH...proved...efficacious for two months - EIGHT months! Come on'! How many puppies does it take to get an accurate history?!
- His seizures subsequently relapsed - It's always struck me that seizure freedom is referred to as remission and relapse. I suppose that's because there is no cure for epilepsy at this place in time.
- Neurological exam revealed stranger anxiety - Dr. Rockstar said this is good news!
- ...and poor comprehension - crack...split...chip...goes my heart.
- Video EEG monitering at CHM revealed hysparrhythmia - How is my heart supposed to keep beating! Can't you throw me a modified hyps bone?
- He exhibits axial hypotonia - fancy for low trunk tone. Don't feel dumb...I had to ask too.
- There was considerable discussion - I suppose this is why Dr. Fellow repeated multiple times that the consensus was unanimous?!
- ...and the consensus was that he is a candidate for epilepsy surgery. - Am I the only one that feels there should be a punctuation mark that is not boring like a period. But not thrilled like an exclamation point? Because my heart...after reading the notes...was somewhere in between the two.
I'd better run. I think I just heard the mail...