Parker’s echo is at 12:30 and I won’t be there. Nope. My stress levels just don’t have the extra room for this appointment. The handfuls of hair I lose when I’m over my anxiety limit is letting me know that I need to pull back some……or a lot.
So I did what any giant, lily livered coward would do in a situation like this.
I begged my oldest son to go with Reed up to Primary’s for the echo and appointment with the cardiologist.
Nope, it won’t change the outcome of anything. But it saves me from having to sit in a dark room watching the computer screen and knowing what I know about the test results that pop up in living color screaming to all the world (or at least me and the echo tech) just how bad of a prognosis Parker may be facing.
It is simply too hard on my heart and causes my already sky high blood pressure to pound audibly in my ears.
So I’m staying home and sending up my boys.
And praying. Lots and lots of praying that the decision to place a trach in my youngest and teeniest child’s neck was the right one.
Because I simply don’t know what I will do if it wasn’t.