Great Expectations part 3--doctors

I never expected to have to become such an expert on my children's bodies.  I still trust that we are blessed to be near as good a facility as Vandy Childrens Hospital, and we have received excellent care from many talented folks there.  At the same time, I am so glad to have answers for YoYo's care that I could not get before now.

I had no idea it was possible to be so thankful for the wisdom and compassion of a doctor who knows.  We had a long day at Johns Hopkins last month with YoYo, starting with his outpatient cystoscopy, leaving recovery to visit a pediatric GI, grabbing lunch in the cafe, and returning to the urologist's office for a final consult.  YoYo was a great sport throughout, patting my back as I teared up and said, "God brought you here to rescue you before Baba and I even knew you--He took care of you until we could bring you home."  Dr. G marveled at YoYo's mobility; apparently, most children with his condition are only able to walk with assistive devices, if at all.  He marveled at the odds YoYo has beaten, and his next words were humbling.  

"You know, here we have all kinds of sophisticated equipment to see children in utero, and when a child is seen with hernias like his, with everything exposed, the pregnancy is terminated.  But they don't have all that equipment in China, and those children are born, and they get the chance to come here and we get them fixed up as best we can and they have a life.  This child is a gift from God."

"They get the chance."  That's another post for another day.  I am thankful beyond what I am clever enough to say for my two sons, that they were given a chance to live.  I am thankful I get the chance to be their mother.  And I am thankful for good doctors.

Here's a video of Dr. VB, FuXia's orthopedist, discussing arthrogryposis and his philosophy of treatment.  While I don't expect you to watch all three parts of it, it's worth a glimpse, if you like, and I thought it worth posting.  What I treasure most is a moment when he describes the turning point in a patient's treatment, when a child who has screamed in pain in clinic at his hands comes back and seeks him out to eagerly share the latest accomplishment or achievement, be it walking or kneeling or straightening a leg.  And he begins to cry as he thinks about it, musing that, "These children teach us so much."

That is a man of peace.  That is the doctor I want for my child.