Sammie B will be having an MRI on Tuesday. The process itself is a little scary because she has to be anesthetized. We saw her neurologist a few weeks ago (an appointment I made because I'd decided I WANTED a more pro-active, less of a 'wait and see' approach to all of this) and well, I got what I wanted. . . .a more proactive approach, which immediately sent me into a spiral of fear, worry, and panic. Hence my absence here lately, my total lack of responsiveness to friends lately, and a whole lot of other stuff. It has been a tough couple of weeks. Even though everyone (including B, who was AT the doctor's appointment with me) kept telling me that there was no reason to panic yet, the doctor wasn't panicking, B wasn't panicking, that ALL we are doing at this point is gathering information, and (hopefully) ruling out some things that COULD be causing Sammie B's low-tone. But, I couldn't help myself. I've been ILL with anticipation, consumed by worry & fear. I'd find myself trucking along through life or at work, doing actual work, which suddenly, it'd hit me . . . "SHIT. My Bean has to have an MRI. What if something is wrong?" And within seconds of that thought hitting me, I was on the computer, googling one of endless possible "syndromes" I'd determined "it" might be, and panicking. I've really been a wreck. Not able to eat. Just trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So, I banned myself from google (best decision ever) while we wait for the MRI and the results (and some other appointments/tests next month) and decided that "panic, worry, etc." is just a monster I'll choose not to "feed" for now. And, google feeds it.
People keep asking what my gut tells me, and I hate it. MY GUT CANNOT BE TRUSTED. Because, one second, I truly believe all is fine, and the next second, I've got worst case scenarios running through my head at warp speed. So, this all generally sucks, and well, I'm struggling. I just keep telling myself -- as Dora said in "Finding Nemo," . . . "Just keep swimming." So far, I am. I'm swimming. And, I haven't drowned.
I've checked out on friends, not returned calls, etc., but finally (I think) emailed most of them with my explanation . . . and of course, received super understanding and fabulously comforting responses back. One particular friend (you know who you are) reminded me that no matter what, Sammie B will still be the SAME Sammie B. And that has been my mantra the last few days. Sammie B? She's fabulous. So, yes, this time -- the waiting -- it sucks, but we'll get through it, and she'll still be the same sweet Bean, no matter what.
I know that over the last few months, as I've found myself spiraling in and out of this worry, B has struggled too, but he's often felt like he couldn't tell me about HIS struggles because he worried he'd send me further into despair. So, he had to be the "everything is fine" guy, and it has worn on him. Over the last few weeks, I feel like we've finally reached a point where we can BOTH talk openly and honestly about our fears and worries, and own them. Which is good. And, when we both sat and just poured out what our "guts" tell us (at our sanest) we were surprised to find we are both having the same "gut" feelings. Only time (and some tests) will tell if we are right. But at the end of the day, she's still our SWEET SWEET Sammie B. The ONE and ONLY. These tests bring up all kinds of other crazy feelings, emotions and questions, but for the most part . . . B and I are on the same page, which feels good. Both of us are worried and scared and the unknowns are petrifying, but we know we'll be okay.
I've also talked to the partners at work and they too are being understanding . . . which is wonderful. I just feel a bit like I'm walking through life in a haze, and giving 100% to my job feels impossible when all I want to do is be home, holding my sweet girl.
As for Sammie B, her fabulousness is confirmed every single day. She certainly doesn't act like SHE is struggling (and her PT sessions have been going well, even if she's not progressing as fast as WE would like, there's still progress, which is always a good thing . . . and she seems to be enjoying the sessions more and more, particularly her treadmill time!). She is just doing funny new things all the time. We made a list of all the things she does and understands before we went to see the neurologist (and the neurologist confirmed for us that Sammie B seems to be doing fine cognitively, socially, fine-motor, etc. which is a relief -- gross motor continues to be our area of concern). . . . and the list amazed us. She understands so much! And, no matter what is going on, her giggles, smiles, and funny little faces somehow make the rest of the world -- the panic, the fear, the uncertainty -- just melt away.
So with that, I'll leave you with a picture of her newest funny face . . . which she loves to do to us and have us do back:
So, here's to wishing and hoping and wishing and hoping that whatever "it" is if "it" is anything, "it" won't prevent this sweet bean from living a long, healthy, full life. Because she deserves nothing less.