Yesterday was not a very good day.

At least not for me.

Ivy was doing better and spent the day sitting with me 

in the large green chair

but for me yesterday was stressful.

It’s not every day that I  learn that ‘no paediatrician this side of Sydney’

would be willing to take my daughter’s care on.

I cried a lot.

When the on call paed 

(the one other doctor I had considered asking to help)

told me that 

and also his suggestion was to transition Ivy’s care over to

another doctor I could feel the last of my resolve to be strong

slipping away.

The only thing left was to cry.

Scared is a good word to describe how I felt

and cross because I felt it was inappropriate to have an unknown doctor

thrust upon us when we were in the hospital setting

with no ability to think straight 

and with a sick child between us.

People told me over and over again that this doctor was lovely

but that just upset me more.

Having an unknown doctor and peoples opinions of someone 

I had not yet met was disconcerting.

It felt as though I had to like her because everyone else did.

The afternoon move quickly and slowly at once

and the night was restless for the both of us.

Ivy tossed and turned with low heart rate at first 

and then a fever and a high heart rate

and I couldn’t sleep because my mind wouldn’t let up.

I tried to think of things I could say to this new doctor

and what she would make of Ivy’s quirky immune system

but also what she would think of me, 

this puffy-from-too-many-tears mother, with tired eyes

and an even more exhausted spirit.

When she arrived I was nervous.

She had kind eyes and a kind heart

and as I recounted Ivy’s history she was quiet and listened.

At the end of it all she said that she understood.

She understood Ivy’s disease and her pathway 

and why she didn’t mount a response 

to infection until it was very late in the illness game

and I felt myself relax.

She said she understood how difficult things were with a child 

(and for a child)

who had this kind of immune deficiency

and then she said the best thing of all.

She said I’d done the right thing.

The right thing bringing Ivy into the hospital,

the right thing following my gut

and the right thing for Ivy

and this time I cried again but not because I was frightened

or felt as though nobody knew what to do to help my girl

but because everyone had been right.

The new doctor was amazing.

She said her job was going to be 

to streamline care when Ivy had to come into the hospital,

to have some plans in place so everything went smoothly

to be there to fashion a course

and so we felt that Ivy was getting good continuity of care.

On top of all of that she said that she wanted it to be a slow introduction 

and getting to know each other,

that forcing me to take on another doctor when Ivy was unwell 

and I was not at my best was wrong

and would that be okay with me.

Would that be okay with me?

Um, yes.

So this afternoon I am hopeful again

and maybe it’s true

that when one door closes another one opens.