When Edgar woke up yesterday morning not able to walk, the “worry gene” in me activated in ways that I could only previously imagine. As the day wore on and orthopedic explanations were ruled out and blood tests ordered, my anxiety ratcheted up even more. Phrases such as septic hip and cystic arthritis, among others, were mentioned; and as I carried Edgar to the car to begin the two-hour wait until we had results, my heart nearly leapt out my chest with love and concern.
When the tests came back and it was determined he had toxic synovitis (which is essentially a diagnosis of exclusion), discernible relief washed over me. Toxic synovitis simply means that a virus that Edgar had the week before (which manifested itself as nothing more than a few isolated sniffles and his “pet frog in his throat”) decided to take up residence in the joint of his right hip, inflaming it to the point where he could bear no weight on it. Anti-inflammatories would do the trick, and in all likelihood he’d be back to his usual tricks sooner rather than later.
However, this event brought about other concerns in his doctor that may (or may not) be related to this virus; and my relief was short-lived as additional blood tests were ordered. This time, instead of waiting two hours, we need to wait two days–and as the old song goes, “The waiting is the hardest part . . .”
Fortunately for our family, no matter what sort of tough stuff comes our way, silliness abounds, and I was grateful yesterday when I picked up Oscar from school and got a look at his–apparently–new name, “Oscar Jazz”:
and later when August decided to express his love for independence and sugar and help himself to a little sit-down with the Froot Loops:
We don’t know yet what the results of Edgar’s blood tests will be–we don’t even know what tomorrow will bring; but I am eternally grateful for the love and support of friends and family and for the unbridled goofiness of this gorgeous family I get to call my own.