Facing Reality

I must confess that I am a bit of a hypochondriac where my children are concerned.  Their health is my responsibility.  They could live or die on the decisions I make for their care.  It makes me a little nuts.  There’s not a spot that they get that isn’t the chicken pox (We’re all going to die!) or a croupy cough that isn’t pneumonia (We’re all going to die!).  I freak out in the beginning…always…and then gather my wits and figure out what’s really going on with them (heat rash or allergies usually).  Then life goes back to normal and I calm down until the next spot appears (Measles!  We’re all going to die!  I don’t care that they were vaccinated!)

That’s where I find myself with #4’s knee.  I freaked out and took her to the ER.  She had an appointment with an orthopedist the next day, but the joint was hot.  I freaked out and took her to the hospital.  Somewhere in the back of my mind was a calm voice telling me that this was just my normal parenting style which usually turns out to be nothing serious and that life would go on as normal.  I waited for someone to find a bug bite or evidence of an injury, but they didn’t.

We got a referral to a pediatric rheumatologist, but can’t get in until March 4th.  Part of me was outraged that she would have to wait so long in pain with her swollen knee.  The rest of me was calm.  It would go down.  We’d never actually need the appointment.  It would turn out to be an injury of some kind or a weird allergic reaction to air.

That hasn’t happened yet.

My husband and our sweet Oma keep telling me that they think it looks better.  I want to be reassured, but it looks the same to me.  It feels the same to her, but they are so certain.  Am I paranoid or is it like the emperor’s clothes?  Are they seeing what they want to see?  How can it not be better?

We’re rapidly approaching the time when all hope of an injury or freak bug bite will be past.  We’re getting to the point where an injury would be healing.  I asked a friend of mine, one of those great friends who just tells the truth even when it’s ugly to hear, if it looked better to her.  She gave me an emphatic “No.”

Damn.

Two weeks until the rheumatologist.  Please let me be paranoid.  Please let me be a freaked out hypochondriac.  Please?