We received our first written communication from the neurologist’s office today. In it were contained the results of my son’s first round of blood tests. The report stated that “these lab results are normal and do not indicate a specific process.” And for about a minute (because apparently my reading comprehension, combined with my desire to read what I wanted to see therein has been compromised), my interpretation was that my boy didn’t actually have muscular dystrophy.
Yep. I sat on the stairs for a second and–I swear on everything I hold dear–thought, “That appointment happened, right? It wasn’t a dream, was it?” I remember very distinctly saying to the neurologist, “So you’re saying to me that my son has muscular dystrophy” and I was pretty sure he said yes. I ACTUALLY forced myself to sit and recount the appointment, actively recalling the details of the faces of the two physicians we met, what shade of 2010-era clinic lavender wallpaper was in the exam room, marching down the hall to the cardiac care unit for an EKG, replaying in my head the words we had heard and said that morning. I honestly had a fleeting moment of thought, wondering just how the hell I was going to say to my friends and family–Psych! Kidding! He doesn’t have MD, I just misunderstood–and thinking, I am going to feel like such an asshole taking it back.
I told my husband I was fairly certain we hallucinated the whole dreadful thing, but he corroborated my version of the story. He was there. It happened. It did.
The “normal” results I guess are the “hey, it sucks but could suck way worse” type. Normal in this case means they can rule out one subtype of super shitty MD, so we’ll have to settle for a silver or bronze medal this round. Never thought THAT would be a dream come true. Victory feels a little hollow, but you know what? I’m celebrating.