Kiefer's appointment with Dr. Langburt was at 9:40 am, forcing us to leave the house by 8 am and fight rush hour traffic. We feel completely blessed that we have such world renown medical care just a short 1.5 hour drive. Seriously. No sarcasm there. We are so lucky. As we headed south down highway 400, we slowed to a stop, not only in rush hour traffic, but construction traffic. I believe there are plans to widen the highway and in preparation for the widening, they are tending to all the bridges first. As we were stopped, Kiefer played happily on my phone. Giving him my phone is a win-win really, because it keeps me from being tempted to go on it while driving (even when stopped) and it keeps him busy. As our car sat idle, I began to take in my surroundings. Cars rushing north, farmers fields, a large cluster of trees in the not so far distance and a newly erected chain link fence along the side of the highway. That's when I noticed a mother deer and her baby walking along the fence. The mother seemed to be frantic. Jumping and prancing back and forth. And that's when I realized the baby was on the same side of the fence as the highway and the mother was not. The mother kept travelling down the fence looking worried and the baby kept putting her nose up to the fence towards the mother as if to say, "help mom!"
If I wasn't in the fast lane, furthest away from them I might have stopped and tried to lure them to the end of the fence. Turns out it's a good thing I didn't as the end of the fence was quite a ways a way and we certainly would have missed our appointment.
We got to our appointment without incident and Kiefer now has a new prescription for a pill form of the medication he's currently on. It will save the messy measuring of the liquid and make dosage much more consistent.
But I couldn't stop thinking about this mother deer and her fawn. I felt like her predicament mirrored mine perfectly.
Paul and I do everything we can to help Kiefer along, yet there's still something between Kiefer and us. And try as we might, we cannot help him in all the ways we want to. Trips to Sick Kids, specialty doctors and medical tests we have never even had done on ourselves, are the only ways we can help. But we watch, like the mother deer, through a fence feeling completely helpless to REALLY help him. We just want to be able to take his hand and lead him gently around the fence so he is free of all his encumbrances. So he can run and jump and live the carefree life that so many other children seem to enjoy. But for now, our journey involves this unseen entity that lives between us and the perfect health of our son.
It's difficult. It's distressing. It's painful. And it's heart breaking knowing that you would die for your son, but yet, nothing is within your power to take away what ails him.
And let's go back to being lucky. We are SO lucky. Kiefer is one of the biggest joys we have in our lives. He is, for the most part, a pretty healthy little guy. He is friendly, loving and immensely loyal to those he loves. Our family is blessed to have him. There are so many more who struggle with so much more than we do. I see you in the waiting room at Sick Kids. I hear you talking about the tests your child must endure. I hear your child ask you how much longer you must stay in the hospital and when will they get to go home and see their siblings and play with their toys. I feel embarrassed to be in the same waiting room as you. Our troubles are so small compared to yours. Yours are the big struggles and the big fears. Those parents I see, I wonder where they get the strength.
For them, I pray your fence is never too big to guide your little fawn to safety.
