I just thought we were through with doctors

Early in August, Elliot went for another of his regular development checks with his meningitis doctor. However this one turned out to be quite an emotional visit.

The appointment started like they all do: Dr. Kennedy asks me what sorts of things Elliot has been up to, and I brag like a proud mama about all the wonderful things he is doing and capable of. Then Dr. Kennedy asks me if I'm worried about anything that he's not doing that I've noticed other kids his age doing and I say "nope!" Then Dr. Kennedy usually says "Great to see that everything's on track with him. See you in x number of months".

Only this time he says, "Well, as sad as it is to not have our regular visits, I really can't see any reason for you guys to continue to come and see me. Elliot seems to be developing completely normally." And then he adds (and this is the emotional bit) "I can tell you now that we weren't so sure that things would turn out so well. Elliot was a very sick little baby and he'll always be special to us."

I expressed my overwhelming gratitude to him and all the wonderful hospital staff that took such good care of our little guy and we said our good-byes and cheerfully left his office for the last time.

And then I got to the car, and it hit me. And I teared up and tried really hard not to completely lose it.

It's really over. That whole agonizing chapter in Elliot's life is behind us. And what's more we dodged such a bullet. Kids as young as Elliot was just don't get meningitis and recover unscathed, but he did! Grateful, just doesn't begin to describe the rush of emotions that were swelling in my heart. Relief. Joy. Luck. Thank. You.

And then here's the ironic twist (and this isn't to take away from any of those feelings, just goes to show how you've got to have a great sense of humour if you're gonna make it in this life):

The next week Oliver starts getting quite grizzly and goes off his food and is waking up more than normal in the night. I take him to the doctors to get him checked and by this time, he's got quite a high fever and is really lethargic. So much in fact, that the doctor tells me that I need to take him straight to the ER to get him tested. On the referral letter she wrote for me to take to the hospital, I read "Check for meningitis?" Seriously?!?!? I absolutely lost it. The receptionist at the doctor had to call Paul to have him meet me at the hospital because I was such a wreck. I just couldn't go through that all again. Nobody has TWO babies that get meningitis!!!

Long story short, Oliver did not have meningitis. Only a bad case of tonsillitis and an ear infection. He went back on antibiotics (quite strong ones that gave him explosive, my-god-how-did it-shoot-all-the-way-up-his-back-and-up-to-his-belly-button-too diarrhea!) and started feeling better in a couple of days.

And Elliot, who wasn't too keen on the fact that Oliver was getting extra attention and got to take medicine three times a day, had the last laugh. After swimming a few days later, Paul asks Elliot if he wants to go to the park or to their regular trip to McDonald's for apples and English muffins. "Nope," he says "want to go to pharmacy for medicine!"

You've got to be kidding me! I've never known any kid to love medicine and doctors as much as he. And we were afraid that all the time in the hospital might scar him for life . . . and where in the heck did he learn the word 'pharmacy'????