Shoved to Them
It wasn’t quite what we had hoped that it would be….Dr I was supposed to be our second opinion. She was sold to us as a brilliant physician who, while a little brusque, was extremely competent. She was meant to be unbiased by the chicanery of Dallas Children’s Hospital….but she wasn’t.
We started off with her chipper medical student assistant. She spent around 45 minutes examining Ella, and another half hour taking down her medical history. She asked us if we’d had the MRI she saw had been ordered, and if there had been an a EMG performed. When I said that they had been done, she asked to know where because she didn’t have any record of them or results in Ella’s records.
The Medical Student didn’t ask as many questions as I’d have expected, but I chalked that up her youth and inexperience. She was friendly, even if she was a tiny bit unsure of what she was doing. Then, she stepped into the hall, and we heard her in conversation with a woman whom I assumed was Dr I.
When she reappeared, it was with a Germanic-looking woman whose stern expression was unsettling. There was no warmth or friendliness in her gaze as she began examining Ella in the shortest, most perfunctory neurological exam I’ve ever seen. In fewer than five minutes, she seemed to have made a decision about my daughter’s fate. She stepped away from the exam table, and fixed us with her gaze.
“Alright,” she stated, “I’ve looked over the other physicians’ notes and the test results, and they are all normal. There is nothing neurological wrong with her, so what is it that you want me to do?“
My mind raced as my jaw dropped open. How had she reviewed the test results she didn’t have? Why had she read the records when she was supposed to be unbiased? Her diagnosis had been set before she even walked into the room. Why had she wasted our time?
“We want to know why she can’t walk, and whether or not it’s going to spread,” I gulped uncertainly.
“I don’t know what else I could possibly test that hasn’t already been done. There’s nothing neurologically wrong that I can see. She’s completely healthy. All that she needs is intense physical therapy.”
My mind raced and I stammered “…what about her toes that don’t wrinkle? Her legs that are cold and hairless? What about the lack of sensation even when she’s asleep? The neurophyschologist said that it was her para..”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” She interrupted me, and with finality said, “She needs intense physical therapy every day and she will get better. That’s it.”
And with that she walked abruptly from the room.
Ella reached up and touched my arm as she said, “Let’s go to the car mom, so that no one can see you when you start to cry.”
I’ve spent all day coming up with the things I wish I would have asked:
She’s been in physical therapy three times a week since this began, and still declined. Why will it make a difference now..
If this helps her, we will be the most ecstatic of parents. If it doesn’t, what’s our next move?
How long should we wait before we know whether or not it’s helping?
Why don’t the signs of autonomic nervous system damage matter? What caused them?
Why aren’t her poor circulation signs important? What caused them?
Even if physical therapy heals her, why caused this? What’s to stop it from returning?
What was the point of examining Ella if you’d already made up your mind from the notes of other doctors?
How did you review test results that you didn’t have?
And a thousand others…
So there you have it. She did everything but say Conversion. Only the finding of three psychiatric professionals stopped her from using that word, but it was clearly understood.
It would seem that all we’ve needed since April was good physical therapy. Who knew? (I’m now going to go whack my head against a wall.)
Thank you all for your prayers and support. I’m sorry to not have happier things to report.
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