My Heart Hurts

Last Friday I read the post Chrystie made on her blog about taking Ellie to the Spasticity Clinic. After examining Ellie, the therapist declared she was fairly certain that Ellie will never walk functionally because her gait is so affected by the tightness of the muscles in her hips -- that walking would be “completely inefficient, and a wheelchair would most definitely be her main mode of ambulation.”

Well. That’s not what anyone wanted to hear.

Chrystie asked them about several options used to treat kids with Cerebral Palsy and the resulting tight muscles, such as surgery, Botox and other meds. None sounded like particularly helpful options for Ellie.

Now, I don’t consider any therapist or doctor the last word on what Ellie will or will not be able to do, but I don’t think their advice can be totally disregarded either. I figure there’s a fine line somewhere between helping Ellie achieve as much as possible, without pushing her with unrealistic expectations. The hard job of deciding where that line is, and what treatments Ellie should get, is Richard and Chrystie’s responsibility. I can only imagine how difficult it must be at times to know just what IS the right thing to do.

Nobody in their right mind ever said being a parent is easy.

Of course my heart hurts for my grandchild Ellie, but my heart also hurts for my children, and knowing how hard it must have been for them to hear such things, and how hard it is to decide what is the best course(s) of action for Ellie.

You don’t want unpleasant things to happen to your kids. You wish only good things for them, and as always, I wish I had a magic wand I could wave and make it all better. However, as anyone knows that has lived very long, life just doesn’t work that way. Sometimes it’s just downright HARD and all you can do is hang on and try to make the proverbial lemonade from the lemons life has handed you. After the shock wears off, I know that’s just what Richard and Chrystie will do. We’ll all stick a Band-Aid over the latest “ouchie” and move on.

“... Weeping may last for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” My heart may hurt, but I’m going to keep hold of that joy, and wish for that joy to be in the lives of all my kids and grandkids.

"... And again I say, Rejoice!"