I spent some time cleaning our bedroom this afternoon. Like many families, there is an area of the home that all things without a home end up. For us, that is our bedroom. We had a bunch of paperwork that needed to be shred, so I decided to finally do it. At the bottom of the pile were our medical files from the embassy in London. The ones belonging to Matt, Oliver and I were all fairly thin. Waverly's was at least four times the size of ours. I opened it up and was transported to 4 years ago...abnormal MRIs, course features, developmental delays. A few months into hearing aids and intensive therapy, we knew there was more to Waverly's issues. The most frustrating part of trying to find an answer was waiting. Waiting for appointments with the right doctors. Waiting to get into the lab for tests. And the worst was waiting for lab results.
The most interesting part of the file were the emails. I was so touched to see emails flying between the embassy, State's medical unit in DC, and our doctors in London. Emails I was not privy to, but showed how dedicated the nurse and nurse practitioner were who were helping us find answers.
I remember thinking I was not strong enough to handle the diagnosis. Not strong enough to fight our insurance company for a chance to take the kids to Duke to find out about HSCT. Not strong enough to manage. Yet here I sit, almost 4 years (gasp!) later. Strong.
I needed that reminder tonight.