Curveball

For the past month and a half, Errol has presented us with an anatomical puzzle. His feet and hands have been swollen and just this past weekend he’s developed what looks like a bright red rash over much of his body. Over the holidays, we’ve circulated through the rounds of specialists trying to figure out what is causing Errol’s extremities to become what is known in medical jargon as “puffy." Our boy’s been seen now by scores of extremely smart people with the very newest technology, but despite their best efforts, no one seems to be able to figure out why the Little Man is not himself.

Tonight we took another long drive out to the county to get a fifth opinion from Errol’s extraordinary pediatrician, Dr. Susan Hunsinger, whom we trust completely. Errol is less than two years old and already his medical chart, at Dr. Hunsinger’s office alone, is bigger than an unabridged dictionary. As Curveball’s mother said, “By the time he’s twelve his chart is going to reach the ceiling.”

Everyone should be so lucky as to have a doctor as wise, brilliant, and compassionate as Dr. Hunsinger. She knows more about what makes Errol’s little body tick than anyone, although she is always the first to say that we, his parents, know him best. She uses her encyclopedic knowledge, her incisive mind, and her unending compassion to heal our son and family. We are very, very lucky to have her in our lives.

Most of the time, I’d rather have bad news than no news. But right now, no news is what we have. The French philosopher, Montaigne, advised that when we are concerned about something it is best to imagine the outcome to our worries as the worst case scenario. He argued that reaching the outer limit of possibilities will actually put our minds at ease, and that whatever outcome we face can never be worse than the worse case scenario. After all, if we expect the worst, we will rarely be disappointed.

While Montaigne’s prescription has eased some enormously difficult moments in my life, in general, I’d rather have my hopes dashed, than to live without them. And right now, it’s hard to imagine a worst case scenario with Errol, because, at the moment, we don’t even have a scenario. Which is exactly why his prescient cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Hines, named Errol “Curveball." The great anxiety we have always felt with Errol is the fear of not knowing. With his syndrome, we don’t know. With his puffiness, we don’t know. With his future, we don’t know. It’s hard not knowing so much. And maybe that’s what keeps pulling us back to the moment, where he is unfailingly sweet and fun to be with.

But despite the fun, the smiles, and the laughter, we always want to know. It’s our nature.