This photo strikes me, not just because of how old Liz looks, but because it symbolizes how much our office and hospital visits have changed. She no longer cowers next to me or sits on my lap (except for when she feels super sick). For the most part the doctors speak mostly to her and she answers their questions. Let's face it, her visits aren't going to end any time soon and so as she gets older it is good for her to learn to take charge of her care. I imagine it makes her feel good to have a bit of control over things, too.
Liz can move through the routine of a visit with her eyes closed, even down to the needle sticks and exam. My stomach dropped as I watched her not even flinch during her last rectal exam; I hate that over the years she has become numb to the whole process. At times I want to whisper in her ear to tell the doctors to leave her alone or to not touch her, anything to show some resistance. I am so proud of how brave she is. She instructed me on the way to the hospital this morning not to tell the doctor how much her bottom hurts, for fear that she'd end up with an exam. When it came time to answer the question though, she willingly admitted to her pain. I am struck by her courage and maturity.
Today she had to have her blood drawn at the hospital lab instead of the off-site location she prefers. There were tears, refusals and even a few naughty words, capped-off with the announcement to people in the waiting rooms and hallways we passed that she hated me "more than anything - ever!". She drove me crazy, but I was happy to see her finally put up a fight for something.
Liz visits the hospital gift shop after each appointment. Today she chose a fake diamond bracelet and ring. Classy! She giggled when I asked if the ring was on her wedding-finger so that boys would know to leave her alone. She capped off her hospital-morning with an iced coffee.
Just another icy Monday morning...iced-out jewelry, icy words and an iced coffee.
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