I mean, it turns out my oldest daughter, my first baby, has a pouch. She’s a marsupial. Apparently.
That was not the news I was expecting to learn today.
Welcome to my new blog, btw. This is the very first post. I was working on a piece about why second place is for winners since that’s the title of this place and all, but hey…when you find out your daughter is a marsupial, that’s the story that’s get the lead. So about that…
We (meaning her doctors, parents, soon-to-be in laws, and fiancee) ALL thought that Madison (the aforementioned marsupial) was afflicted with endometriosis. That diagnosis was all but set in stone, but they first needed to do exploratory surgery to confirm, and then they were going to deal with what they found once inside. That was today. Early this morning to be exact, and they went in and found out some great news:
Madison does NOT have endometriosis to pretty much the shock of all involved, not the least of which – the marsupial. In fact, she was pretty crushed to find this out, because she was super hopeful that today was the day that all the pain and suffering stopped. She’s been in sometimes agony for a good long while, and she had pinned a lot of hopes on this being a successful surgery and her being healed. It seems odd to be sad to learn that you don’t have a condition that women dread, and that her future choices of reproduction are clear for takeoff. But constant pain makes it difficult to find the silver linings, to which there are many.
However, while the doctor was in there, he found something he personally has never seen before in this procedure. Swell. Leave it to me or mine to be the oddballs that have something weird inside of them. It runs in the family. Once in my late teens I had to endure weeks of doctors believing I had leukemia (and me thinking I was going to die), only to find out that I had/have some sort of mild blood disorder that makes my blood clot slower than normal. It clots, just not as fast as a normal person I guess. After all the drama they wound up labeling it this phrase which I’ve had memorized since I was 19 – “Mild platelet function disorder not well determined.” That’s the exact wording, and exactly what a surgeon should know if I ever need to be sliced up on the table. It’s the “not well determined” part that makes me laugh, because here is my daughter baffling the doctor just like Daddy. A chip off the old block.
So what was it? The doctor said it was like a pouch attached to her bladder. Hence the reason why I’ve now labeled her a – marsupial.
He said it’s not cancerous or anything like that, but he has no idea what it is, and he’s sending her to a urologist. This particular episode in our family history will continue on it seems.
My daughter has a pouch. That’s pretty cool, at least I think. I want a pouch. Not on the inside like that, but I’d for sure take one somewhere on the outside of my body. But that’s just me. At the marsupial’s service right now is her whole family and soon married family working on different angles of this situation, but my job? That’s to be the Daddy who hears all of this and doesn’t hear doom…
He just knows the Lord has this covered however it’s supposed to go, and he hears the word pouch and decides to label her a – marsupial. And Madison would expect nothing less from Daddy in this moment. Somebody has to lighten the mood 🙂
Gary A.
Second Place is for Winners... 