One of the worst things that happened during Aiden’s personal Hell Week is that his parents were told by the health care people to whom they entrusted their son that he would be so much better so soon that it would be like “night and day.” Well, it’s still night, and although he is a little better (in that he’s eating a few bites here and there, at last), he’s nowhere close to being well.
He was asleep when I saw him today, as I was dropping D.J. off from school. While I was there he stirred, tried to open his eyes and look around, then whimpered and curled back up. Thank goodness he’s getting sleep and plenty of fluids, because he needs both of those badly. But that’s not Aiden. I mean, he’s a bit of a grouch when he first wakes up, as are so many of us. But this was painful to see, because he was so obviously hurting.
How do you maintain hopes without raising expectations? Well, you should probably know what you’re talking about. Some of the diagnoses Aiden has had during the last week have later proved to be wrong. His condition was way underestimated, and part of the blame falls on those at the hospital who didn’t listen to the people who know him best. They knew something was wrong, and yet they were dismissed as if they had no right to express an opinion.
And now here we are, waiting for a miracle, when the process will probably take a little longer than we were led to believe. It turns out it’s probably not a “night and day” miracle we need, but rather just a little more time to heal. It’s nice that they tell us what we want to hear, but the truth would be even better. |