Sunday Snapshot {Resilience}

It's been just shy of a year now.  Eleven months ago she moved halfway around the world with just the clothes on her back and a small backpack sweetly packed with treats and small toys from the woman that she knew as mother for the first three years of her life.  She has changed languages, common foods, cultural difference and added two siblings.  There have been numerous needle sticks with vaccinations and blood draws, countless eye exams, several specialist consults, two eye surgeries, and laser treatments.  Many people are faced with less change, less stress, less uncertainty in their lives and have suffered a nervous breakdown.

And yet our little DQ has taken much all of it in stride.  Yes, there were times that were trying.  We experienced the growing pains any family does when a new member is added.  But overall, she has demonstrated a resilience that amazes me. 

I don't know what to attribute her resiliency to.  Just her nature?  The nurture she received ~and for which I will be forever grateful~ from her foster mother?  The thousands of prayers that went up in the time before and after she joined our family?  Simply God's grace? 

It is because of that resilience that her reaction to her most recent laser treatment totally unnerved me.  My mom came in to town and Darcy overheard me explaining to a friend that she was here to help out during a busy appointment week for DQ.  Not even thinking about it, I said ~ while Darcy was within earshot ~ that we'd be going to Duke twice that week, once to see Dr. F and once to see Dr. B.

My wee one marched herself right over and inquired who Dr. B was (as she knows ~ and loves ~ Dr. F her eye specialist).  I responded that Dr. B was her skin doctor as I figured "dermatologist" wouldn't register with my three year old.  She looked up at me with a concerned look on her face and asked if Dr. B was the "polka dot" doctor.  At that point I should have seen it coming, but I couldn't very well lie to her, so I affirmed her answer.  And then her face fell.

From there her usual sunny disposition went south.  The next two days were miserable for me as a mother.  My healthy appetite little girl barely touched her food.  Instead of facing the day without a care in the world, she was quiet and sullen.  Her siblings would try to engage her, but she just wanted to sit on the couch or at the table.  She was "ultra clingy" (not that I mind the closeness, but I knew it meant she was unsettled) for the first time since we first got home last March.  We all noticed, but nothing we did seemed to snap her out of what could best be described as a mini-depression.

Finally, Sunday night at dinner, we felt it was best to face the upcoming procedure head on.  We asked her why she was concerned about it and if there was anything we could do to make it better.  She thought for a few minutes, picked at her chicken and rice, and then responded, "No arm."

What an idiot I felt like at that moment.  Her arm!  How could I overlook what happened last time to her arm?  I had fallen behind on my sunscreen dilligence after pool season ended and while I kept her face coated in SPF 50, I frequently forgot those little arms that were still exposed to the sun in short sleeves during our long NC Indian Summer.  And that extra melonin on her arm led to the laser not targeting the enlarged blood vessels near the surface, but her top layer of skin instead.  And the blisters, oh the blisters.  It was pitiful.  Honestly, her arm looked like we had wrapped it in flesh colored bubble wrap.

No wonder she didn't want to go back.  She remembered that pain.  My precious baby was dreading it so much that it affected her eating, her playing, her "happy-go-lucky" personality in general.

We continued to talk to her about it and she did tell us that her face was okay, just not her arm.  So we made her a deal.  We told her we would talk to Dr. B about what happened last time before her surgery.  (And man did we pray that we would indeed have that opportunity).  That seemed to ease her mind a little and she managed to eat a bit of her meal and played some before bed that night.  But she still was clearly not herself.

We left the house bright and early Monday morning armed with photos of the blisters on her arm and were fully prepared to instruct them not to touch her arm at all.  Thankfully we did get to talk to both the PA and Dr. B and felt comfortable going through the procedure for both her face and arm.

And when we went back into recovery we could tell quickly that all of her polka dots were simply bruises this time and not blisters.  Finally our little sleepy one began to stir and immediately she rubbed her left hand across her right arm as if to check how it felt.  Ian and I both exhaled deeply when she grinned and said, "No hurt, only tickle."

And then she asked for her surprise for being brave.  I happily passed over her new Polly Pocket doll set.  She smiled and let me know that carefree DQ was back by saying, "I no like it, but I come back to Polka dot doctor if you get me another Polly."

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