Forgive me for feeling an extraordinary amount of jubilation when people tell her how beautiful she is. Pardon me for having a bit of a cockiness about me when we’re at the mall and people walking up behind us pass us, then look back to see what the girl in the wheelchair looks like and they see that she looks like any other kid, but with extraordinary beauty.
Medically speaking, I would say she’s needed a minimal amount of intervention considering the trauma she sustained when she landed on this planet via C-section. Yes, she needs physical, occupational and speech therapy. Yes, she’s non-verbal and non-ambulatory. Yes, she needs hand-over-hand assistance with everything including playing. But she doesn’t have any heart problems; her hearing and eyesight are perfect; lungs, kidneys, intestines, bladder – all good in these departments, too. Her hips needed a little surgery in 2007 but are perfect now. So forgive me if I am a little conceited about the fact that she’s never needed any other special type of therapy or intervention for her well-being. It feels great going in to the doctor’s office (any doctor) and responding with, “She’s doing great!” when asked, “So how IS Miss Brianna doing these days?”
And you really must forgive me for being sad and finding it almost impossible to not cry when the doctor tells me that I should think about starting botox injections in her hamstrings and ankles. You see, her muscles are getting very tight and currently, she can’t straighten out her legs completely. And if we don’t address this now, it will only get worse. It will get to the point where she is in a permanent crouching position. Of course we don’t want that! And I know that there can always come a time where we have to do something new because she is getting older, bigger, heavier.
KNOWING she has CP and a myriad of secondary conditions that can (and most likely will) worsen does not make it any easier to hear it confirmed out loud.