The English Patient
I’ve just had a lovely catch up with one of Max’s consultants. She really is lovely. It’s funny how spending time with someone that you’ve shared the very worst of times with can bring such laughter and friendship. I suppose it’s like a private member’s club that no one wants to be a member of. I do so appreciate the company.
Let’s call her Dr Bob. You see Max’s condition(s) haven’t changed so he doesn’t see the specialists as often as he used to. There’s a bit in the back of my mind that wonders if consultants get bored and want to figure out the fun, groovier conditions…something more entertaining, more likely to get an appalling disease named after them perhaps?
I’m not complaining though, really...
I’ve always hated that constant panicky, sinking feeling in consultant’s waiting rooms. You know that feeling when you know your baby’s future hangs on the next test result and you’re stuck in a full waiting room opposite the squirmy, screaming toddler and all you can do is smile kindly?
What you actually what to do is go home and on the way buy a great big chocolate cake and a bottle of wine. Then close the curtains, put on a boxset and eat the cake with a serving spoon with a ‘do not disturb’ sign on your front door.
So, yup, I’m happy I don’t have the hospital runs to London, Cambridge, Northampton, Bedford, Ipswich…and well, it’s a good thing.
The appointment I’ve just had was to get an up to date medical report to submit to Max’s transition meeting. The school have also managed to squeeze in his next annual review too so the report can multi-task which is a fine thing indeed.
There is something about a certain type of Paediatric Consultant that feels like a hug. It feels like teamwork, like everyone is working together to make Max’s life as ‘average’ as it can be. You know, I never thought I’d be fighting for average. And I never thought average would be so very hard to get. Damn.
So dear Dr Bob, I’m so glad you’re fighting for Max too. Most importantly, I’m so proud that Max has this undefinable factor that means that people don’t forget him, they see him as the precious little man I know he is.