I really wanted to scream. Or cry. Maybe even a little bit of both.
Today was the appointment with our GI doctor. You may remember that Dylan has been having increasing issues with massive amounts of spit up? Yeah, so today was going to be the day that we came up with a plan. The day that we'd come just a bit closer to an answer. A reason why he is losing weight and spitting up 25 times a day. At least I thought it was. I showed up prepared. I had been writing notes upon notes over the past week. I wrote down everything that he had eaten. All fluids. I even kept a spit up log. Remember?
Problem was - they were very busy. I'm not so sure they wanted to hear everything that I wanted to tell them. I was shown that indeed he has lost more weight. While looking at the computer screen - "See that dot? See how he has fallen off the curve?". Yes, yes I do. I'm freaked out. Now what?
The nurse thought that we may want to move forward with an upper GI. Yes!! This is what I had thought as well. (Not that I know anything about anything medical, but still.) She went to check with the doctor to make sure she agreed.
'Spose not as she came back with a different plan. A plan that involved doubling his Prevacid and getting some blood work done. She wants to make sure his thyroid is working properly. I told her that we just had his thyroid blood work done 3 months ago, but she wants to have it taken again. She said to make a follow-up appointment in one month so we can check Dylan's weight again.
Ughhhh. But...but. That's it? No upper GI? No...anything else? We're just going to keep going on as we are? 25 spit ups a day, weight loss and all?
Guess so. We headed downstairs for blood work.
An hour later, three hours after we had arrived, we were in the car driving home. No better off than when we had arrived. No plan. I wanted to scream. Or cry. Maybe even a little bit of both. I tried to tell myself that there is really no reason to cry over spit up. I mean really. It's spit up for cripes sake. Yes, it's frustrating. Yes, it requires ungodly amounts of laundry. But you know what? No. It's more than that. It's scary to me that Dylan continues to lose weight. It worries me that Dylan is no longer able to tolerate floor time play. It bothers me beyond belief that he isn't able to just...be! Everything, everything revolves around keeping his food down. I wanted a plan today. I wanted some hope and instead I feel like we were rushed out of the appointment with no answers.
As I was sitting on my couch a couple of hours after the appointment, the phone rang. It was Dylan's GI doctor. She said that they had been talking about Dylan a bit more and have actually decided that we ought to go ahead with the upper GI after all.
Ah, finally. Something! I suppose I'll hold off on my screaming for now as we may just get to the bottom of this after all.