Okay, after a little thought and several inspiring pep talks from family and friends, I’m feeling a little better about this whole funky baby skull thing. Here’s what went down: Tuesday the nurse called to tell us that all was well with Merrick’s butt ultrasound results. I remind her that, while that’s all fine and dandy, it’s the x-ray I’m worried to death about, and would she please keep checking on that and let me know ASAP when that report comes back. Wednesday, I’m busy driving and getting my family lost in the middle of Oklahoma City at rush hour, calling everyone I know trying to get directions to Route 66, when the doctor’s office beeps in–so I click over. On the other end of the line I hear the doctor’s voice–the actual doctor, not the nurse–which immediately signals bad news. And he proceeded to explain the situation to me in a sympathetic, caring tone, and I proceeded to listen and respond with an occasional and unusually chipper "Oh, yeah, sounds good! Yes, I understand! Yes! Okay!"
He tells me that his office will go ahead and take care of setting everything up, and that they will get in touch with me to tell me about appointment times and whatnot. I hang up and confess to my mom that indeed I am slightly bothered, but we carry on with our wild goose chase down old Route 66, we enjoy shakes and sodas at Pop’s, and we stop and marvel at a Round Barn. Caleb meets us after a job interview (which went quite well, more on that some other time) and I share the news with him. By the time we all get back home, there’s already a message on our machine with the date for Merrick’s 3-D CAT scan.
It scares me how fast they got this ball rolling. Tuesday we’ll take Merrick back to the Children’s Hospital. We are still waiting to hear when our meeting with the neurosurgeon will be.
I admit, I’ve been freaking out all week long up until I talked to our very good neighbor-friend/nurse, Shawna. I don’t why it didn’t occur to me earlier that she might know a thing or two about this; she worked for a while with sick and disabled children and had actually dealt with this very situation a few times. She gave me some details, and told me it’s not as scary as I think. She knows the neurosurgeons at the Children’s Hospital. It is because of our reassuring chit-chat and her insight and advice that I was finally able to breathe a little sigh of relief and get some sleep last night. Plus, she hooked me up with a really sweet gift-certificate for a birthday pedicure. Awesome.
On an entirely different note, my family’s visit went well–way too fast, but well. My mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and niece Reese showed up Monday just in time for birthday cake. Jenny and I played with our real-live babies, the guys did guy stuff, my mom got her grandkid fix, and the kids were spoiled beyond belief and jacked-up on sugar all week long. Good times, good times. An observation or two, though: 1) Taking the kids out to the mall is no easier even with 2 additional adults in tow. No. Easier. And 2) Getting Caleb and my brother-in-law, James, together was not necessarily a smart move…but it sure did make for some hilarious moments.