The giant words, Children's Hospital, loomed on the building I was about to enter. I realized two things in that moment: 1) We are moving up a level in the severity of this situation and 2) some parents are taking their children into this building and looking up at the same letters, praying that their child will come home soon. On #1) this is scary. I'm scared that my poor kid has to come here at all. I'm praying that we will walk in this giant place and walk out with answers of some kind. Something to work with. On #2) Thank you Lord, even though my child is sick, he will come home tonight. Even though he doesn't feel well, he is healthy child compared to so many sweet babies that lie in this hospital. Oh, the prayers that surround this place. Back to #1) When we walked in we passed the pediatrics desk and had to head over to special appointments.
The end result is that nothing really happened. I know that we are on this specialist's radar. But nothing happened. She is switching his medications from expensive Omeprazole to super cheap Zantex because the Omeprazole is making him nauseous. But that was about the extent of it. She won't talk about anything invasive for two more months. I don't want to wait two more months. I want my son to stop having pain in his stomach now.
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