The Week After

We stewed on the information and diagnosis (if you could even call it that) the doctor gave us, for a few days. I knew that what he had said wasn't right. I didn't walk out of that office with an overwhelming feeling of relief and I just knew that meant it wasn't right. I didn't know what was going on with my little boy, but I knew I couldn't accept what we were told.

I didn't go to a different doctor right away. The doctor we saw had been his pediatrician since Foster was born. We liked him. He was a good doctor. He was efficient (in and out in 30 minutes at the most) and was warm and friendly. He always made jokes with Archer and it felt like we were going behind his back to talk to someone else. The other part of that was that I knew that all the doctors in the area knew each other, I wasn't sure what to do next or how to approach it.

We finally settled on seeing the doctor in our town, the family doctor I have gone to all of my life. The appointment was made for January 29th.

And while I hate to leave you here, I'm trying to stick to the dates things happened, both to keep the memories from crossing each other, but also having a specific place that the dates are recorded as well.

Other memorable dates from Archer's Journey include:
January 22nd
January 6th