Still waiting
yep, still no word.
I am not the most patient person in the world. When it comes to my job, I have unlimited patience. I wait for little ones to talk, for them to ask questions, for them to look at every piece of artwork on the wall in their school on the way to start our session. I wait for that first word. I wait for the look on a parent's face when their child says "mama" for the first time. I wait for the first hug to know I'm in and that I've made a new, three-year old friend.
When it comes to my family and their health and well-being, I lack the very patience described above. I don't wait. When someone first suggested that my son might have Autism, I found every doctor, psychologist, and developmental pediatrician that I thought would give me the best picture of my child. When Hunter started the smallest of rashes at multiple points in this journey, we were at the doctor immediately. When I found the doctor who I thought could take us in the direction of recovery, I made the first available appointment- and then asked to be put on the wait-list in case someone cancelled prior to our scheduled date.
When the Autism team diagnosed Hunter with PDD-NOS, I made a call that afternoon to start ABA therapy.
I am not good at waiting.
I have made so many calls to the insurance company, as well as the doctor's office, in the attempt to speed up the process, to make the peer-to-peer contact, and get us approved to start treatment. After my last return call from Dr. G's nurse, her message spoke loud and clear: "You just have to wait."
I'm actually not just "not good" at waiting; I stink at it.
Part of my issue has to deal with losing the control that I desire. I have had to remind myself countless times that I am not in control. I just need to wait.
I walked to get Hunter from school this week, and the first day I had his IVIG heavy on my mind. When I least expect to see a sign, it is so apparent- I looked up as a neighbor was walking into her home, and saw a "Enjoy life" sign by her door. I smiled to myself and continued on. Again, my thoughts got lost and I looked up to see a red cardinal in another yard a few blocks from the sign. My grandma Maggie always loved cardinals- she would feed the birds and the beautiful red cardinals would sit on her bird feeder and bring her joy, as visitors brightened her day. I have a red cardinal that sits on the top of our Christmas tree, and I often will see cardinals on my long runs. As many times as I have run down the main road we walked on that day, I had never seen the cardinal before.
And my final, blow it out of the park sign...after I found out that insurance had denied us, I had texted a couple of local friends and our family...and then I added my friend Angie from college. She has been there for me, and likewise me for her, for over the past 18 years, and I love her like a sister. I usually call my college roomies and give them updates, but for some reason I attached her to my text. I forgot that she was in Hawaii on a trip...she sent me back a sweet message about keeping my head up and then it followed with this picture and the response, "Saw this on my morning walk today right after you texted me. It's all going to work out."
I immediately burst into tears. It's an "arch!" A few years ago, my husband's best friend, who we called Arch or Archie, passed away (I've mentioned this in a couple posts before), and when I got home from the funeral, I was having a hard time dealing with our loss and my heart was exceptionally heavy for Peter. I took the kids on a walk, just asking Arch to comfort me and Peter, and to let me know that everything would be ok. Well, it started to rain, so I turned around, and there in front of me, so close it seemed that I could touch it, was the most amazing, full rainbow. I smiled through crocodile tears as I realized it wasn't just a rainbow, but an "arch." And from then on, I knew Archie would come through for us.
Throughout this journey, I have talked to Archie. I have asked him to be that guardian angel multiple times, and I know by seeing this picture, that he was telling me to breathe.
To relax.
And patiently wait.
Because if you knew him, if you knew his ever wide heart, his glowing personality, and his laid-back nature, that is exactly what he would have told me today.
"Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and steadfastness and patience." James 1;3
I am not the most patient person in the world. When it comes to my job, I have unlimited patience. I wait for little ones to talk, for them to ask questions, for them to look at every piece of artwork on the wall in their school on the way to start our session. I wait for that first word. I wait for the look on a parent's face when their child says "mama" for the first time. I wait for the first hug to know I'm in and that I've made a new, three-year old friend.
When it comes to my family and their health and well-being, I lack the very patience described above. I don't wait. When someone first suggested that my son might have Autism, I found every doctor, psychologist, and developmental pediatrician that I thought would give me the best picture of my child. When Hunter started the smallest of rashes at multiple points in this journey, we were at the doctor immediately. When I found the doctor who I thought could take us in the direction of recovery, I made the first available appointment- and then asked to be put on the wait-list in case someone cancelled prior to our scheduled date.
When the Autism team diagnosed Hunter with PDD-NOS, I made a call that afternoon to start ABA therapy.
I am not good at waiting.
I have made so many calls to the insurance company, as well as the doctor's office, in the attempt to speed up the process, to make the peer-to-peer contact, and get us approved to start treatment. After my last return call from Dr. G's nurse, her message spoke loud and clear: "You just have to wait."
I'm actually not just "not good" at waiting; I stink at it.
Part of my issue has to deal with losing the control that I desire. I have had to remind myself countless times that I am not in control. I just need to wait.
I walked to get Hunter from school this week, and the first day I had his IVIG heavy on my mind. When I least expect to see a sign, it is so apparent- I looked up as a neighbor was walking into her home, and saw a "Enjoy life" sign by her door. I smiled to myself and continued on. Again, my thoughts got lost and I looked up to see a red cardinal in another yard a few blocks from the sign. My grandma Maggie always loved cardinals- she would feed the birds and the beautiful red cardinals would sit on her bird feeder and bring her joy, as visitors brightened her day. I have a red cardinal that sits on the top of our Christmas tree, and I often will see cardinals on my long runs. As many times as I have run down the main road we walked on that day, I had never seen the cardinal before.
And my final, blow it out of the park sign...after I found out that insurance had denied us, I had texted a couple of local friends and our family...and then I added my friend Angie from college. She has been there for me, and likewise me for her, for over the past 18 years, and I love her like a sister. I usually call my college roomies and give them updates, but for some reason I attached her to my text. I forgot that she was in Hawaii on a trip...she sent me back a sweet message about keeping my head up and then it followed with this picture and the response, "Saw this on my morning walk today right after you texted me. It's all going to work out."
I immediately burst into tears. It's an "arch!" A few years ago, my husband's best friend, who we called Arch or Archie, passed away (I've mentioned this in a couple posts before), and when I got home from the funeral, I was having a hard time dealing with our loss and my heart was exceptionally heavy for Peter. I took the kids on a walk, just asking Arch to comfort me and Peter, and to let me know that everything would be ok. Well, it started to rain, so I turned around, and there in front of me, so close it seemed that I could touch it, was the most amazing, full rainbow. I smiled through crocodile tears as I realized it wasn't just a rainbow, but an "arch." And from then on, I knew Archie would come through for us.
Throughout this journey, I have talked to Archie. I have asked him to be that guardian angel multiple times, and I know by seeing this picture, that he was telling me to breathe.
To relax.
And patiently wait.
Because if you knew him, if you knew his ever wide heart, his glowing personality, and his laid-back nature, that is exactly what he would have told me today.
"Be assured and understand that the trial and proving of your faith bring out endurance and steadfastness and patience." James 1;3
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