Thursday, February 7, 2019

Facing Fear

I hardly write here anymore. But old problems swell up, threatening to burst open into the comfortable life we've been living lately and when that happens, I want old faithful. This blog has been an outlet for me on some of our darkest days. I'm teetering on a nervous breakdown at the risk of sounding remorsefully weak. If you're new here, this post should give you a little background of our story with Abel. If you want to read even more, check out these posts. Abe has been through a lot. We have been through a lot. Before you start worrying (like me), I will preface this with- Abel is doing just fine. He currently has strep, but is on medication and won't be contagious soon. But what we discovered at the pediatrician yesterday sent me into a tailspin of despair. It's not terribly alarming news, it's just that I have so much PTSD associated with that time of our lives that the black cloud that has just been gathering over the years poured out all over me again when I heard it.
Lately we've noticed an odor coming from the ear that he had all that trouble with years ago. In short, he was simultaneously bilaterally implanted. He had all sorts of struggles and surgeries causing the surgeon to come to the decision to take out one of his implants nearly a year later. Months later, he was finally released from infectious disease and I never looked back. I despised Nashville and all that it represented to me. No longer was it the first place I ran the distance of a half marathon. No longer was it where I celebrated my birthdays in college. No longer was it a fun place to get away for a couple days. It was the city where I mourned so much of a normal life for my child. It felt suffocating when I drove into the awful traffic almost weekly that year. Nashville was the place we spent much of my son's early childhood in cold offices and caged hospital beds. I know this is a bit crazy, but it's how I felt. When I drove away from infectious disease that day, I knew I would only be back if I had to. Fast forward to now.
His pediatrician has cultured the bacteria in his ear and was a little concerned. The results are not back yet, but he wanted us to go ahead and get in with Abel's surgeon in Nashville to check up on him further. It might be nothing, but the fact that it could be something broke me open again. I cried all morning thinking of starting down this road again, both literally and figuratively. Over the years I've worked at trying to create happy memories of Nashville in my mind, but when I get off that exit I feel the heaviest curtain of dread fall around me. I know better, but I can't always shake it.
Tomorrow we will return to Vanderbilt to get him checked out. It's something we've needed to do for awhile now. I had pretty much laid to rest the idea of having him implanted again and so I saw no need to bring him back. I hoped to find an ENT around Knoxville who would see him, but because of his delicate history, no one was willing to take him on as a patient. Perhaps his infection is one that is easily handled. Perhaps it's not. But I'm writing here today because I know you'll join in praying for him. Thank you for allowing me to spill out my heart for all to see as dramatic as my sentiments may be. I feel better already. God is and always has been in control and He'll never leave us. He'll carry us with Him as we walk back into the doors of the Children's Hospital tomorrow and everything will be just fine. Deep breaths, Kacy.
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