Ten Fingers, Ten Toes and it's off to the Neurologist we go...

One of the many reasons we made the difficult decision to move all the way across the country was that we knew that a certain neurologist worked at Seattle Children's Hospital. This neurologist is the only neurologist in the country (world maybe?) who is studying the role of genetics in brain abnormalities like the one that Daniel has. In fact, this neurologist is the one that (after having a bad experience with the neurologist at UVA) first diagnosed Daniel with Cerebral Vermis Hypoplasia (CVH). All he did was look at Daniel's MRI.

At the time he was working in Chicago and we just figured we would never meet him in person. We were wrong--never say never. In less than two weeks we will finally go see him!

I am not sure why I am so nervous, hopeful, excited about seeing this particular neurologist. In general, a neurologist is not the one who helps Daniel every day of his life. In fact, not since his first year have we dealt with a neurologist of any kind, knowing that Daniel will only improve with the physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy and special education teachers. A neurologist knows what is happening in the brain, but cannot perform the tasks of helping the brain to grow. And yet knowing all of this I still have hope and faith in the neurologist and hope that he will give us more than we've ever gotten from a neurologist before.

Because he is the man. He is the one who is leading the research on what Daniel has. He is the one who may someday (in the near future?) have the answers that we all long to have. The reasons why and the ways to make it better.

Am I putting too much faith in this one guy? Sure. Do I have every right to want this person to be a miracle worker? You bet!

The other night in the bed, Daniel and I were hanging out. He is very much into counting to ten these days and very proud of himself when he does, "Great job!" He won't actually count things though, he just counts. I was trying to get him to count his toes and it reminded me of when he was born. Just like when his sister was born, I counted to make sure he had all ten fingers and all ten toes. Thinking that as long as he did, then everything was okay. Yeah, life is not that simple.