Knowing Is Half The Battle

In a blur of just two weeks Ryan's MRI and follow-up appointment came and went.

It was a long day, but our little boy showed his strength despite the morning of fasting, the sterile hospital room and the fear of what was to come. He asked us if he had to have "pokey medicine" and if we had to stay for a long time. We knew the answer was yes to both. And that he knew it too. When the doctor came to meet him he was shy but so cooperative. I wished to pick him up and run. But he remained calm. And so brave. The nurses and doctors are amazing. We knew Ryan was in good hands. The trust I have for them keeps me (mostly) together. When it was time for him to have the anesthesia, the doctor invited me to stay by Ryan's side until he fell asleep. Somehow I managed to sing him the ABCs despite his pleas to "be done". Despite his big blue eyes looking at me and slowly slipping into a drugged sleep. It's the hardest part of the process and he was so brave. He didn't fight. He held on. And so did I.

Thankfully there is the silver lining. It's done. The anesthesia went well and the scan was completed. The nurses and doctor proved deserving our trust again and again. And again. We stayed longer to get Ryan's blood sugar up. He got an endless supply of popsicles and high-fives. He made the best of it all. And we couldn't be more proud.

... and the results! They're good! All of my fears diminished in seconds when the doctor told us that Ryan's scan showed a healthy brain and spine. Even some typical abnormalities for someone with achondroplasia were not showing. I felt like I exhaled for the first time in months.

The weight of the unknown has lifted and we are grateful that we've checked this hospital visit off of the list. Yet, this new information - though helpful - is also only part of a whole. We don't know why Ryan has headaches at only four years old. We don't fully understand his blood sugar challenges. The questions we have linger and cause confusion and new stress.

For now we "watch and wait". Perhaps as Ryan grows older, the headaches will lessen. Or maybe with our biggest fears put aside, we will catch what triggers his challenges and ultimately a cause.

But knowing what we do know is a start. And we're so grateful. It's been said that it's not happy people who are thankful. But instead that thankful people are happy. This couldn't be more true for us. We're thankful for where we are and what we know. Ryan is okay! The scan eliminated countless of serious complications common with achondroplasia and with headaches. Maybe we have more challenges ahead, but for now we are going to love the present and what it offers. Because it's awesome.

Finding The Silver Lining

We are just days away from Ryan's MRI test. I'm dreading it. And at the same time, I'm eager to get it over with. It may sound dramatic to worry over such a non-invasive test. But when a child has the scan, they have to go under general anesthesia. This isn't new territory for us, and the staff at the Children's hospitals are fantastic. I know Ryan is in good hands. But he's only four years old and this is the 4th time he's had to do general anesthesia. And it doesn't get easier.

The fear lurks behind my smiles and consoling words to my nervous son. It threatens to take away sleep, my appetite (and that is a feat!) and to raise my blood pressure. But why let it? I can't control this. I just have to find the silver lining.

It feels a little crazy looking for the good stuff when my little boy has undergone far too many procedures, tests and appointments. But it's there. We are lucky. We are lucky to have a son with dwarfism. And we're even luckier that he is maintaining fantastic health. Some people with achondroplasia have much more severe and stressful complications. Ryan's endured a lot of tests and procedures: MRI's, sleep studies, ear tubes, tonsil/adenoid surgery, hearing tests, scopes, and on and on. It's never easy. And I don't think it ever will be. But he's done it all with a smile.

The silver lining for us is seen in the amazing community we have in the form of family, friends and the LPA community. Because of this, we have a wonderful anesthesiologist lined up. We have a Genetic Doctor and an awesome team of specialists who are only a phone call away. We have friends who watch Ellie while Scott and I stay with Ryan during hospital stays. We have an army of people giving us support and love.

Ryan won't love the day. Oh boy is that an understatement. He'll surely start crying when we enter the hospital. And the cries will escalate to pleads when he sees the hospital gown, the bed and the needles. My heart is already breaking thinking about this. He's too young for this. He's hurting and afraid. And I can't do anything. The fear is rising up. How can I find a silver lining when this moment comes? When the doctors attempt to insert his IV? When it takes more than half a dozen times to get it to work? I have to look beyond this moment. Ryan won't be able to look at the big picture at his age, but I can. I can tell him that he's in good hands. And that having a rough day is how we ensure that he has many many more good days than bad. We're being proactive for his health. And even though it hurts on so many levels this is the silver lining. It's for a good reason.

For Ryan the silver lining is waiting. It's in the form of a new Lightening McQueen car. It's a new "magic pen" coloring book and a new movie. And when he gets home, it's the special treats to eat and juice boxes chilling in the fridge. It's the hugs and cheers he gets for being such a brave boy. The brightest silver lining is definitely Ryan's. It's full of smiles and laughter. And it's when we're done with the MRI. We're home.

But we aren't out of the woods - and like a wise man on my favorite reality show ("Terra's Little Family") said, "we won't ever be out of the woods ... dwarfism is for a lifetime". We have to wait two weeks for the MRI results. Fear lurks yet again. The worst case scenario keeps trying to nest in my head. But I can't let it. I have to take this one day at a time. And handle things as they come. There will always be something to deal with. As Ryan gets older it'll be leg bowing, social drama, hydrocephalus, spinal compression, etc. But since I can't control this, I'm choosing to look for the silver lining. Since there's always good with the bad. Sometimes you just have to look harder for it.

... Or in Ryan's case, you just use your Superpowers to fight off negativity.