Sprinkles and Miracles

Before I begin the heart of this post, I want to update you on Chap. Last week, he developed a random limp and was having difficulty walking long distances. We made a few trips to the pediatrician, and came up with the diagnosis of transient arthritis... temporary and rarely develops into juvenile or adult arthritis. Only a few days of the anti-inflammatory has really helped, and he is almost back to normal. Tonight, as we were eating supper, he said... "My foot hurts!" I replied with a little surprise, because he hadn't complained for 2 days straight, and was doing worlds better. I told him he'd get his medicine soon, and that would help it. He looked at me, and said... "Not that hurt! It's sprinkling!" After a bit of a dialogue back and forth, I quickly realized his foot was tingling, as he'd been sitting on it. We told him not to sit on it, and it would stop - but I loved his description of "sprinkling."

Thankfully God knew what he was doing when he chose which twin would need to endure the medical visits, multiple medications, and therapists. The drama that a simple trip to the pediatrician entails when one is afraid that 'my foot will be cut open' in order to x-ray it was quite tiresome. Thankfully by the second and third time the doctor came into the room, Chap had resigned himself to the idea that he wasn't going to be hurt, and these doctors aren't so bad after-all.

Which leads to our little medical miracle child...

Tonight began something new... a long-term commitment... a new part of life... a new step in our daily routine... a new growth.

For two hours, a nurse with a drug company sat at our kitchen table with us - teaching us, training us, and helping us feel comfortable with this new challenge. Whit was in and out of our conversation, bringing his little red tractor to the table to "drive" it along the "bumps" for a few minutes - until whatever Maggie and Chap were playing with sounded a little more exciting than what we were doing in the kitchen. He knew it had to do with him, so he'd come back to check in every-now-and-then. He sat in Corbett's lap during the vitals, he sat in my lap during practice runs, and he sat in my lap during the first injection.

Tonight was the first night of growth hormones. While this includes nightly injections, we are thrilled to be a part of a new device that is very kid-friendly.

This is the EasyPod. Very user friendly, hides the needle, and keeps track of dosage, injections, and step-by-step instructions. He was gung-ho to push the button on the practice runs, but when it came time for the actual injection - although he didn't know what was coming - he wasn't so sure that he wanted to have a part in making it happen. The nurse and I restrained him, and the screams came - they didn't last long, though.

Another fun thing about his device is that it can be personalized. After Whit had his developmental evaluation at the Meyer Center last summer - in his report that the Neurological Developmental Pediatricain, Dr. Jarjour sent us, he described Whit as "a sweet, left-handed white boy." Not really the medical terms that I was looking for. While not always left-handed, he is a sweet white boy. One thing Dr. Jarjour didn't mention was his love for cars. This is the picture he chose for his personalization on the EasyPod.

While this begins a long process, we are anxious to see the results. We know it will be slow, but are thrilled at the opportunity for him to reach his genetic growth potential. The nights to come will be quite an adjustment for him, so please pray that he accepts this new daily step toward growth with a little patience, understanding, and contentment.

As a part of the paperwork with the nurse, she had to have medical pre-natal and postpardum history on Whit. We gave her the details, and she marveled at the miracle that was presented in front of her. She looked at him in awe of what she read on paper at his start in life, and what she was seeing right before her very eyes. Quite the miracle he is!