Choices.

A week ago everyone was home from school, the day was perfect to be outdoors, and without even second-guessing anything, we took Sonzee's port needle out and she was able to spend her day in her favorite place, the pool.  Despite losing time on her TPN/Lipids, it was an obvious choice. On Tuesday my phone rang and it was her endocrinologist's nurse.  I can't say I was not expecting this phone call, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that it should have occurred weeks ago and I was just waiting for it to happen.  The insurance kinks of her bone infusion have been worked out (I knew this weeks ago, but didn't rush to tell the office) because we have yet to decide is if it is in Sonzee's best interest for her to undergo the infusion.  On Wednesday Sonzee ended up with a fever and the protocol with the central line is anything over 100.4 becomes an automatic ER trip, yet we didn't exactly rush to take her in, the odds were in her favor that it was "just a virus", and lately the consideration of hospice has been on our minds.

Choices.  This journey presents us with the illusion of choices.  A choice is deciding on what is for lunch or dinner, or what drink you want from Starbucks.  By the way, all of those, thanks to the type of choices we have been presented for the past 4.5 years evoke major anxiety and panic attacks.  How is it even considered a choice to decide if Sonzee should go in the pool and have fun or be given nutrition?  Why do we have to decide to attempt to strengthen her bones to maybe prevent fractures and improve her bone health or keep her from experiencing 6 weeks or more of pain that historically wreaked so much havoc on her body she will cry to be picked up and won't be able to tolerate feeds for weeks?  Why are we even having to consider if we should be switching our 4.5-year-old daughter from palliative care to hospice care? 

None of this makes sense. Processing that this is part of our journey knocks the air out of my lungs. These choices might not have a "right" or "wrong" answer, but the results of each choice impact her life and our family's life.  There is no way around sugar coating the immense amount of weight that we are bearing.  I wish the biggest choices we were faced with were, which after school activities she wanted to be participating in, what lunch she wanted us to pack, and does she want to sleep with a nightlight on in her room?  But, that isn't our reality, and that isn't how life with a CDKL5 mutation works, so I will wipe away my tears, pull on the big girl panties, and try to do this right.