Today is Jessup’s appointment with his pulmonologist. I always get so nervous for these appointments. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I’m really scared each time we do this. So, four times per year, I’m scared. Well, more than that, but these four times are scheduled events.
Someday I will write all the terrible details of these visits, and the sadness and fear that has entered my life due to them. For now, I will admit that these appointments typically go well. Surprisingly well. I have no reason to believe that this one will be different, but still I sit here, scared.
One of these days, the news will be bad. It won’t be an easy appointment. It will be sad. It will be filled with tears. It will be the beginning, no, the continuation, of something that began many years ago. April 11, 2007 to be exact. That was one of the worst days of my life. There was a diagnosis. We were told there is no cure. No medicine that we can give him. As many miracles as there are for so many people, there is none yet for us. No pill to take. No shot to give. There are unproven preventative measures, but nothing more.
So we continue on with the preventative measures his doctor feels are best, and we hope. Pray. Cross our fingers. Do a juju dance. Whatever works. Whatever makes us feel better.
Today Jessup drove. From home to the mall, which is where I sit, typing this. I’m not nervous with him driving, but I have a hard time not telling him to do things my way. He is very safe. He has his own way of doing everything, but he’s very cautious. He must learn to navigate the city, and the middle of the day on a Tuesday is better than any other time I could think of. Soon enough, he will be doing this on his own. Soon enough, he will be hearing the bad news without us. Soon enough, it will just be a phone call with the news that his lungs are badly scarred and possibly failing. Soon enough there could be a lot of scary possibilities.
For now we visit the doctor every quarter year, and hope for the best.