No mother ever envisions it for their own child. Walking through the giant sliding doors, down the hall, last door on the right. There’s an adult-size door, and a child-size door. Fish tanks stretch from floor to ceiling, and there are stars on the linoleum. The walls are painted bright colors, and the desk is low, so the children can feel involved. Despite attempting to provide an inviting environment, the place is still scary as hell. On the wall: Scott and White Pediatric Hematology and Oncology.
Twice I’ve walked through those doors. And twice I’ve felt like throwing up. Twice, we’ve there in the waiting room while Elizabeth fawns over the fishies. Twice, we’ve waiting for the doctor to come in and see her bruising. Twice, we’ve had him order blood tests. Twice, we’ve been sent away, knowing no more than when we’d walked through the doors.
I feel like I’m living in one of those movies, where the parents are pushing against all odds to figure out what’s wrong with their child. Where no one is listening to the parents. They stand by their child’s side, arguing and standing their ground. But, they always find out answers. The movies make it look easy. The parents appear heroic. I feel broken. They seem indefatigable. I am exhausted. They have their helpmate their. I stand alone. Lost. Losing.
Tonight, I am at a dead end. Where do I go from here? How far am I willing to take this fight? To whom do I present Elizabeth’s situation next? I don’t know.
I do know that something is clearly wrong with my daughter. I do know that my husband is halfway across the globe, so far removed from all of this. I do believe in the power of prayer and the support of family and friends. And, I absolutely know that this mother will stop at nothing to find out what is wrong with my child. No distance is too far, no fear too great, no medical personnel too elite for me to overcome that obstacle and achieve a correct diagnosis.
I ask for your prayers, dear readers. Those of you who do read. I know not how many there are. But, if you could leave a comment letting me know you are praying so that I might take great peace from that, I’d be eternally grateful. I desperately need them right now. Elizabeth needs them right now. Thank you.