I am so NOT a city person. I hate traffic, horns, road rage, exhaust fumes, highrises, crowds, potholes, germs, parking garages....Sarah and I took a trip into Children's Hospital Boston to see her orthopedic docs. I dread the trip but love the hospital. And it reminds me every time I drive in there why I would never live in the "city". I know some people love it and would never consider living anywhere else. My mom loved it. Lived and worked right in the heart of it. Knew every street, shortcut, store. It is just a big mass of confusion to me. Every time I drive in I think of her...loving it. I prefer green. Grass. Winding roads. Horses. The beach. Land. Lots of land. Think space. Think Ireland. That's it. That's for me.
Anyway, here's Sarah waiting for her orthopedic surgeon. These are not fun appointments. She knows it-I talk to her about it beforehand, prepare her. She whines a little bit. Anticipating the discomfort. Part of the routine for a child with Cerebral Palsy. In he comes with his interns in tow, a very nice teddy-bear type of MD. He bends her and stretches her as far as she will go and measures angles. On her belly, on her back. Bend Sarah...a little bit farther....it's tough for her but she hangs in there. Eyes wide. I whisper in her ear to reassure her as he pushes and prods. Let me examine those hips, see if they are remaining in those sockets after your surgery. Bring your knees up Sarah...a bit farther...Let's see how you take steps. I lift her down to the floor and we move forward. The surgeon explains to the interns why she steps the way she does. Why she turns awkwardly the way she does. Why she moves stiffly the way she does. What to do. What more can we do. Sit Sarah. Sit up straight Sarah. Pushes on her spine. Does she help feed herself, they ask? No. Does she move herself around the house in any way? No. Does she stand in a stander every day? Yes. How long? One-two hours a day. Good. Seizures? No. She is reading? Wow.... They look at her with different eyes all of a sudden.... I feel proud of my girl. Final verdict-she looks good overall. More botox to that left hamstring every 6-8 months for the next couple of years. Keep her horseback riding. Keep teaching her communication. As he leaves the room he says with a smile-"Her progess in communication is more important than anything I can do for her." I appreciate his honesty.
We make the long trek home. She's such a good girl. Listening to Celine Dione in the back seat. Singing and chirping. Watching out the window for the Sagamore Bridge for then she knows we are almost home. Giggling when we turn onto our own street and delighted when I turn the car off. Yeah. Woohoo. Back home.
