I am tired. Discouraged. Weepy. All things that Babygirl does not need to see today, or any day for that matter.
Nothing specific has happened since yesterday, it's just that I need an injection of something stronger than coffee to keep me moving today. I need optimism.
The problem with being a physician is that the Doctor portion of my brain is always making lists out of medical information: What is the likely problem? What is the worst possible problem? The things on each list are identical, but the first orders things from common to uncommon while the second orders things from most deadly to least deadly. If the person in front of you is your patient, this is the best approach: Eliminate the deadly things with the appropriate tests, and confirm the likely things in the same way.
The problem with Babygirl's situation is that she is uber-specialized. Every single thing that has happened and is happening to her remains almost entirely out of my scope of knowledge. What I do know frightens and confuses me.
Usually in an acute family situation I am able to let the doc in charge prioritize, while I compartmentalize and put the medical that I know into a box and sit on the lid. Babygirl is very aware of this process, and smart enough to ask me to keep the lid on the damned box, at least in her presence. Typically, compartmentalization has been my superpower, but I apparently let the lid go in my sleep last night. I absolutely KNOW that I have no control over this, but I want to find a way to control it. That way lies madness.
I've showered. I've had breakfast. I've had my coffee. I've meditated and spent some time in prayer for others that I know need that. And now I'm writing. Documenting what is INSIDE my head puts it OUTSIDE my head, usually. Whatever I do, I need to go to that hospital in a few minutes with no swelling under my eyes and a smile on my face. It's what moms do.
Keep those prayers coming. The entire serenity prayer needs to be downloaded and hardwired into my soul.
DeeDee
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