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.
