The Best Medicine.

Our trip to the Developmental Center at Children's was pretty uneventful, however a bit of stress seemed to somehow find its way into the day. We started off with an information session with the doctor. Reliving all Kalvin's anxieties and fears is a bit hard on the nerves or should I say on my nerves. Kalvin and his dad had the smarts to take the opportunity to "tour the floor" while I talked. I left feeling a bit relieved, like the doctor was going to administer the tests and come back and tell me everything was fine, normal and worry free. I also left with a few questionnaires to fill out. I settled myself in to the waiting area while Kal and his dad went off with the doctor to start the testing.

The questionnaires are a list of questions that I need to answer with “Never, Sometimes or Often.” I started reading the questions and quickly felt my stomach knot up, throat tighten and the sense that things were going to be "fine, normal and worry free" completely diminished.

Meanwhile, the boy beside me and the boy across from me waiting to see their doctors struck up the cutest conversation about video games. It was hard to concentrate on my questions and I absolutely LOVED the distraction. Another mother and son sat down to my left and the two mothers quickly struck up a conversation. Everyone is on the same playing field in this waiting area. All mothers wanting the absolute best for their child and relating to each other in a way a lot of “other” mothers just couldn't imagine, so I won’t even try to explain. There is a sense of understanding that rallies these mothers together and I quickly realize that this is a "club" I am now a part of.

As I try and complete the questions, I find myself skipping over question after question, thinking how to best answer them. I am having trouble breathing. Sweating. Is it the coffee I am drinking that is causing my heart to suddenly race? I realize I am sighing heavily. Sigh after sigh. And then, I feel the mothers’ eyes upon me. I realize they think the boy’s conversation is bothering me and thus, my repeated sighing. I look up at the mothers and explain myself, "I just hate these questionnaires."

Immediately the one mother replies, "I know. They ask the same question in different formats repeatedly. It is like they are trying to trick you!"

Ahhh, yes, they get it. I don’t have to say much and I know we are all in complete understanding of one another. The three of us nod and we know we get each other. It is unspoken. We are all here, perhaps, for different reasons, yet ultimately , we are all here for the same reason. "Yes! That is it exactly," I reply with a grin, "Who doesn't do all of these things SOMETIMES? It is just hard to answer accurately."

I decided to leave the remaining unanswered questions for my husband to review and I moved on to enjoying the boys’ conversation-it was priceless. Two boys who have trouble making friends, bonding in the waiting area was the best medicine for my soul and for my stomach and the overall sense of panic and doubt that had taken over.

The doctor walked Kalvin and his dad out to meet me. The doctor looked, uhmmm how do I describe this, troubled. She looked at me in a sympathetic sort of way. I felt like she had just unveiled something about Kalvin that she didn’t think we would not want to hear. Like what was troubling Kalvin was so very obvious and we were blind not to see it. I instantly became nauseous...again. So much for that peaceful feeling I felt listening to the boys bonding. It was completely undone. I had to really refrain from blurting out, "What did you find out? What are the results? Tell me. Tell me NOW." I just smiled and tried to gather myself… silently. We won't know the results unitl January 28th.

The mother and one of the boys from the waiting area were while waiting with us for the elevator. The boy turned to his mother and said, "Mom, did you ever think that was possible? That I could meet a friend here?"

"Well, yes honey, anything is possible," she stated.

"But mom, did you think someone like me could ever meet a friend here?" he asked again.

"I know it is hard for you to meet friends. I hope he uses the number and calls us. I was so happy you made a friend," his mom answered.

I smiled. It was just such a beautiful part of my day. It gave me hope. Such a wonderful thing to witness and I too prayed that the other boy and his mother would use that phone number to keep this rare bonding, this connection going.

We headed down towards the lobby when Kal discovered an outdoor basketball court nestled in the middle of Children's Hospital. Kal's dad had the great idea to ask at the desk for a basketball and the three of us headed outside for some real medicine of our own-shooting hoops. Nothing relaxes Kal and takes his mind away quite like sports. The three of us played for a while when I left to go and pick up some forms from the doctor. I returned to find them sitting at the picnic table. My husband looked concerned. "We sat down because Kalvin needed a break. He needed to rest. He was sweaty and having trouble breathing," he said in an almost panicked tone.

"Ok, " I replied. "Should we get going?"

Not sure if it is Kal's coarc that had him tired and sweaty or if he was getting a virus, but it is so out of character for him to ever ask to sit and take a break when he is playing a sport with his dad. It set off a panic feeling in me and in my husband. Good thing we are headed in to the cath lab in a few weeks I thought. Into the best hospital in the world.

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