Fifty-four hours away from home, and it seems like it was just a dream.
For the past eight years, the young miss has had a twice-a-year check-up from her excellent pediatric cardiologist at the excellent Children’s Mercy Hospital. When said check-up happens when school is out, we can attach a day or two on either side of the trip.
The medical report was thumbs-up: everything is as it was last November. The doc gave all three of us the lecture on the future, as our daughter heads into her later teen years and twenties. The preferred non-confluence of pregnancy and her heart condition and potential consequences there. The happy news that some day, adult stem cells and tissue regeneration and cloning will allow Brit to have an implantation of her own fully-functioning heart. And the real possibility that she may need a transplant before that technology comes to fruition. And in a non-optimistic, parental-worry moment, the reality that if the world situation crashes and medical developments are not available to ordinary people, the possibility my wife and I will outlive our daughter.
It might have sounded somewhat grim to a fourteen-year-old’s ears, but neither my wife nor I think that sheltering her is an ideal tactic, at least at this age. Those of you who parent adolescents know the frequent result of parental lecturing. I was glad the doc had all ears from those present.
We also had a chance to visit friends and former colleagues at my old parish. Another liturgist there departs–two in two years, not counting a parishioner who filled in on an interim basis. I have to concede I’ve landed in a better place. There’s nothing like a college town. That said, it was nice to catch up with old friends, share some nice meals, revisit one or two old haunts.