I’ve been really struggling these last few weeks. Josie continues to get stronger, but the progress is so slow. Some days she doesn’t walk independently at all, but most days she takes a few steps. Her neurologist, geneticist and pediatrician are all coming to the same conclusion, that her problems are likely muscular. We’re headed towards a muscle biopsy to pin down the diagnosis, but before this I have agreed to the cardiac and neurologic testing that has been recommended. By holding off so long, I truly thought I was making the best decision for her. I’m not so sure now. These days I’m not sure of anything.
In my heart I still truly believe that there is no serious problem, and that she will be OK.
We went to a party over the weekend. When we are in public I feel on edge and defensive, because I know I am surrounded by doctors who know their pediatric milestones. I feel angry with myself for caring what they think, and so very protective of my daughter that I wonder if I will explode. The truth is, Josie walks pretty well these days when she is holding my hand, and is happy and verbal. Other mothers of similar age toddlers are too busy pulling their own children out of fish ponds or off of stairs, and usually end of interpreting Josie’s more sedate nature as good behavior. I hate myself for not being able to accept their compliments on her pleasantness for how they mean them.
I have been struggling on a professional level as well. I continue to love being a family physician, but the system continues to escalate demands with increasingly limited resources. I feel stretched too thin, and I’m not sure how much longer I can maintain my current schedule. There are ominous signs that things may be getting even worse, and I’m afraid I’m reaching my breaking point. There have been a lot of rough patches these past two years that I have got through by assuring myself that things are bound to get better. But- maybe things aren’t going to get better. I feel a very powerful sense of obligation to stay for the people of the community I serve, but I am beginning to wonder if I am sacrificing my mental and physical health for nothing.
I have a baseline (mostly functional) level of anxiety, and I understand that there are days or weeks at a stretch that I bump it up just a smidgen, into the barely functional, occasional panic attack range. I know I’ll come through this, but right now I’m taking it day by day.
