Thank you, doctor.
I would like to give thanks...
To the doctor who eased my worries after my second level 2 ultrasound. For even though he was wrong, I was able to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy.
To the doctor who told me the truth---Trisomy 13 CAN BE incompatible with life, but not necessarily.
To the doctor/colleague who came to visit me at the hospital after hearing of my son's diagnosis.
To the doctor who offered a home visit in case I wanted to avoid coming to the clinic during a difficult time.
To the doctor who acknowledged she had assumed my son would die.
To the doctor who shed a tear and said she hoped to contribute to his quality of life.
To the doctor who always spoke using the future tense, "When Caleb turns 3, 5, 30..."
To the same doctor who said not to be surprised if my son needed a kidney transplant by the time he was 15 and then added, "Because when one of my kids needs something, I make sure they get it."
To the doctor who has not seen my child in years, but still remembers him and checks in with me.
To the resident doctor who spoke to me with excitement about meeting a trisomy 13 child who was 4 at the time and doing well.
To the same resident doctor for asking many questions unrelated to my son's hospitalization because it revealed his surprise and desire to learn.
To the doctor who gave me the chance to tell his residents anything I wanted them to know about caring for a child with trisomy 13.
To the doctor who used my visit as an opportunity for his medical student to learn this important lesson--"You treat the individual, not the diagnosis."
To the doctor who has said my son is a great teacher.
To the doctor who told me we had to challenge my son.
To the specialists who take care of him currently.
To his primary for caring for him and being part of our story.
Thank you, doctor.
To the doctor who eased my worries after my second level 2 ultrasound. For even though he was wrong, I was able to enjoy the rest of my pregnancy.
To the doctor who told me the truth---Trisomy 13 CAN BE incompatible with life, but not necessarily.
To the doctor/colleague who came to visit me at the hospital after hearing of my son's diagnosis.
To the doctor who offered a home visit in case I wanted to avoid coming to the clinic during a difficult time.
To the doctor who acknowledged she had assumed my son would die.
To the doctor who shed a tear and said she hoped to contribute to his quality of life.
To the doctor who always spoke using the future tense, "When Caleb turns 3, 5, 30..."
To the same doctor who said not to be surprised if my son needed a kidney transplant by the time he was 15 and then added, "Because when one of my kids needs something, I make sure they get it."
To the doctor who has not seen my child in years, but still remembers him and checks in with me.
To the resident doctor who spoke to me with excitement about meeting a trisomy 13 child who was 4 at the time and doing well.
To the same resident doctor for asking many questions unrelated to my son's hospitalization because it revealed his surprise and desire to learn.
To the doctor who gave me the chance to tell his residents anything I wanted them to know about caring for a child with trisomy 13.
To the doctor who used my visit as an opportunity for his medical student to learn this important lesson--"You treat the individual, not the diagnosis."
To the doctor who has said my son is a great teacher.
To the doctor who told me we had to challenge my son.
To the specialists who take care of him currently.
To his primary for caring for him and being part of our story.
Thank you, doctor.
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