We made it! Yesterday, we went to Riley's Children's Hospital to visit our new Pediatric Neurosurgeon, Dr. Laurie Ackerman, who specializes in Chiari Malformations, among other brain abnormalities and neurological issues.
The drive down was hectic - to say the least. First off, if you haven't been to Indy via I-69 South in awhile, be prepared to see slowed traffic, random (empty) construction zones, and several State Troopers along the way. Can you see the foreshadowing going on here? Yes, you guessed it, Phil got a ticket. Not just any ol' speeding ticket. No... He had to go real big and get a ticket "in a construction zone" -- which is about double the normal cost. These guys were sneaky. Three Troopers - on motorcycles no less - were clocking drivers right before the zone began (although the sign was posted back just far enough that we were IN the zone). We saw about 6 other drivers get pulled over in the time we were in their "sweet spot." Phil wasn't speeding (72 in a 70), but because of the construction zone sign, he was (72 in a 55)! $416.50 later, we were back on our way.
When we finally made it to Riley's campus, we were surprised with more construction, which the registering nurse who scheduled (and confirmed!) my appointment failed to mention. On top of that, we found out later, we were using a *seriously* outdated map of the campus, which included buildings and streets that were completely renamed. It was neat. (Sarcasm.) Once we realized we had about 10 minutes to make our appointment, we picked a parking garage and started hiking. Luckily, we picked the closest garage, and this is where our luck started turning!
Inside Riley's Children's Hospital is beauty. I'm not sure what I expected, I mean it is a Children's Hospital, but I didn't expect what I saw. First of all, every SINGLE person we spoke to, no matter their job, was so pleasant and kid-friendly. Although I felt like vomiting on each of them, their smiles began to ease my nerves. My second, pleasant surprise was the actual campus. Their decorations, their set-up, their seating... all of it was just pretty. I know it sounds so silly, but I think of "hospital," and typically, I think "drab." Let me say here, though, that Lutheran's Children's Hospital is nice, but this was just... different. Graden was holding Phil's hand, walking slowly, eyes darting everywhere... taking it all in. And, while I never "enjoy" going to a hospital, I somehow felt "okay" with it.
Upon arriving at our "desk," we registered Graden, which was a much quicker process than we've had in the past (anywhere!) and took our seats. We were right on time, and we assumed (you know what they say about assuming) that we would have to wait awhile. No! Within minutes, we were asked to come back by a nurse, who was clearly experienced with children. She managed to talk directly with Graden while addressing Phil and me, too. She conducted the typical "check-in procedures" -- weight, height, basic health questions. Throughout all her questioning, she kept Graden occupied with conversation -- basketball, school, his big, special brain. :) Then, she took us to "our room."
Graden was smiling, playing, without a care in the world. As I watched him wait for the doctor, I realized he wasn't "waiting" the same way I was. In fact, I'm pretty sure he wasn't waiting... He was "living." It is odd that it took me this trip, this office, this appointment to realize that he is already "living," and I couldn't help but wonder why I felt like I wasn't as good at living as he was.
When the doctor came in, after a very short wait, we immediately felt tense, which I think she sensed. She introduced herself, calmed us, spoke with Graden, and completed his "check-up," again, all while addressing us. Phil and I didn't even look at each other. It was a silent agreement to listen intently and wait for her words, which could change our lives. Is that an exaggeration? No. Maybe. I don't know, but I certainly felt that way at the time.
And, she did change our lives. She gave us the most thorough explanation, reading materials, a picture, and all the information we needed. She explained the surgery - even though she doesn't recommend it at this point! She went through the pros and cons, the risks and benefits, and the symptoms we need to watch for as Graden grows. She gave us the range of possibilities and was brutally honest as we asked all our questions. Her only advise -- No Boxing. :) We will address football later.
Really? That's it? It sounded so easy; for a minute, I thought there would be more.
There wasn't.
Because of Graden's minimal symptoms, she didn't want to do surgery... the risks do not outweigh the benefits at this point, and we agree. Could this change? Sure. Is it likely? We just do not know. So, we wait. We watch. We live.
She reminded us what to look for and what we may have to work on, even though I'm certain that Phil and I won't ever forget. And, she repeated herself... no surgery... doing okay... no concerns at this point... strong... healthy otherwise... no relation to/does not cause seizures... not affected by seizures... no surgery... growing well... only follow-ups needed unless something changes. Of course, he still has another type of brain defect, but that seems to be under control and has no bearing on his Chiari Malformation. Whew!
This is when Phil and I finally looked at each other. Relieved.
Then it was over, and Graden reminded us it was lunch time. So, off to McD's we went. Grado's choice, of course. :)
He napped the entire, slow trip home. Phil and I, again silently, decided we could finally live. Live one day at a time... not just say it, but really, truly do it!
We were reminded (not that we need much reminding) that we are so thankful for Graden. He keeps our life interesting; he is such a stinker, but his humor and personality remind us that life is crazy and fun! So, here's to living!
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We made it. We made it!
