Lack of Patience ...

OK, remember how I said that we'd sent our package to Dr. Brad for review? And remember how I said I was amazed when truly great people even acknowledged me, let alone got back to me quickly? Well, Dr. Brad called last Thursday -- which, by my estimation, is within 2 days of receiving our package in the mail (2 day priority, confirmation of receipt ... my woman knows her way around the post office, by god). Considering that we're talking about one of, if not the best in the county, that response time is really impressive. And comforting.
The bad news is that we missed that call. He left a message saying that he'd reviewed everything and would communicate his thoughts in a letter.
(Ooh, that's not good. Am I the only one who has ever been dumped by post? I hate letters. And I'm not too fond of your memory either, Karen Wyler. I hope you're alone, fat and miserable.)
Anyway, yeah, the message was time stamped about 10 minutes before we got home, and even though we tried to call him back immediately, we didn't get through. Holiday weekend. Why, oh why do these things always happen on holiday weekends? In fact, it's because of the holiday weekend that we missed Dr. Brad's call in the first place. That day we picked up the kids from camp and decided to go out to dinner since we were leaving Friday morning to spend the weekend in DC and we didn't want to leave dirty dishes in the sink. because we're anal. and/or too lazy to cook. and could use a lone cloud in an otherwise blue sky as an excuse to eat out. And what do we get for our laziness? One missed effing call.
Yeah, so I have to say this here. I try not to worry about things that are beyond my control -- kind of a life's rule for me. I try, but I suck at it. So even though since his birth I've been truly convinced that Ethan's hearing will be restored, the tone of Dr. Brad's message has me more than a little freaked out. My mind is suddenly open to the worst-case scenario. Honestly, it's never occurred to me to even consider that Ethan wouldn't be a candidate for atresia repair. And I've also been fairly certain that he would be a model patient and that years from now we'd mostly forget that for the first 6 or so years of his life he had amost no hearing in his right ear. And now all those years of denial and trying to remain positive are eating away at my brain and I feel like screaming. I'm hoping like hell that Dr. Brad's letter is in the mailbox when we get home tonight. I'm hoping like hell that I can wait until tonight to check the mailbox. I'd call Dr. Brad but I'm afraid of what my response would be if he tells me on the phone that Ethan's atresia can't be repaired. I'm hoping I can find adequate distractions today to keep me from going crazy. Maybe I'll check out "One Missed Call" on Netflix. Nah, probably not a good idea.

"The waiting is the hardest part." -- Tom Petty