Crack

So today was an interesting day.  Q had an appointment with a new doc, an endocrinologist.  I had a misunderstanding about childcare, and then there was traffic, parking was a nightmare, and we were late.  When the desk guy came back out to tell me that they couldn't see Q today, I just sort of froze.  They went to get the MA who does the scheduling, so I could reschedule for some time in the next couple of months.

And I just started to cry.  My day had already included several frustrating phone calls, several frustrating kid related issues, a mildly depressing orthopedic note, and not enough sleep - Q needed extra repositioning in the night.

I've never fallen apart in a medical office before, but I learned today that it opens doors rather quickly.  Q and I were immediately shown to an exam room and I was handed a bale of Kleenex.  The nurse came in and spoke softly, and said that the endocrinologist doesn't like to turn people away, so he'd be seeing Q anyway, though it might take some time.

They moved very quickly.  Q had all the vitals, but his BP wouldn't show up - he wanted the tubes and cords and the ensuing waving of his arms kept the machine from getting a good read.  He had a good x-ray of his wee little hand, to look at his bone age (about eight months behind).  And the very nice endocrinologist spent the next forty-five minutes explaining everything from how many bones there should be in his wrist at this age (five, maybe six), versus how many there are (four), to what he's looking for in the bloodwork he ordered.  He showed me the x-ray, and yes, those bones look a little light, despite Q's vitamin D drops.

The bottom line is that there's every reason to expect that Q's pituitary is falling down on the job, and that certain other hormones are a bit off as well.  His pediatrician wants to get a bunch of nutritional panel blood work too, so I'm hoping like everything to roll the endo and PCP draws into just one early morning run to the lab.  Q will return there in three months for the next phase of the discussion.

I didn't connect it at first, but I realized as I waited for the MA to come out that I was standing in the same offices where I sat years ago, now, with a pediatric surgeon to discuss the plan for the baby growing in my belly.  Who does that?  Who has to go sit with a surgeon to look at the options for an as yet unborn child?  Not many people, that's who.  I don't often think about how life here is anything but "normal," but that's exactly it: completely not "normal."  It's really not all glamour and bon-bons, my friends.

And I'm a little fried.

The nurse asked me if I was the only person responsible for all five of these children.  (For a second there, I didn't know what to say.  I mean, holy cow, right?  Who thought this was a good idea?)  I told her that I usually have some kind of back-up, but today was The Day it All Came Apart.  She said, "Yeah,  I thought maybe so.  Seems like you have a lot to keep going and today was just too much."

Maybe so.  I don't know.  I've been fine through the whole "Q will now enter the surgery phase of his life" trend we seem to have going on.  We've done braces with G, umpteen dental, pediatric, and specialist appointments for all five.  We've done a gazillion casting and fitting appointments for splints of various kinds.  We manage about fifteen to twenty loads of laundry a week.  Everyone eats good stuff, the kitchen is clean (don't notice the three cups in the sink, okay?), and things move here (practice, schoolwork, sleep, repeat).  I don't contemplate it because it takes away from the time I need to spend pulling it off, you know?

Anyhoo.

I'm going to stop contemplating now so I can go sleep. 

Three Good Things:
- Apparently, endocrinologists don't so much recommend surgery.  So.  Hooray for that.  And the doc thinks that there's no reason to expect urology to recommend a procedure.  More deeply heartfelt hoorays.
- Fresh, homemade bread, with butter and lavendar honey.
- Smart, funny, kind people who talk to me sometimes.  I heart you.

G'night, all you lovely people.