Guess what. We had enough of all of these different therapist’s with all their different opinions and approaches to my daughter’s lack of interest in food. I knew that all the infant massage with oils to bad Enya-like music wasn’t going to cure her of what is keeping her so small. So, I made an executive decision and got Sadie an appointment with a sought after GI at Cedar’s Sinai – bonus – they accept our insurance. I gave the office assistant my sob story and pleaded with her to get Sadie in as soon as possible and she made it happen.
Our appointment was yesterday and due to my insane stress level and anxiety over all of these appointments, Jon graciously offered to take Sadie in. He brought along two pages of bullet pointed notes that we fastidiously wrote out to make sure that the doctor would be armed with every bit of info. Of course I kept coming up with new things to put on the list so you can add obsessive compulsive to my maladies. Luckily, while Jon was at the doctor’s office I was a mere 12 foot walk from my bottle of Xanax.
The new doctor listened to all of Sadie’s trials and tribulations and couldn’t believe that she wasn’t rescoped after her last endoscopy which found yeast. Given her symptoms, the Enya massages aren’t a good treatment for an actual physical reason like not eating because you’re uncomfortable AGAIN. You know how when you go to a new hairdresser they always have to say, “Oh wow, who cut your hair last? They really didn’t know what they were doing!” and then you feel like a big pile of shit because obviously you’ve been walking around with a turd on your head masquerading as a hairdo? Well, it’s been sort of like that with doctors for us. Each one is a little appalled at whatever the last one told us – like with the Cool-Whip incident.
But this doctor I trust. Sadie’s being treated again with Nystatin and she’s already eating better. She will be rescoped later this month and if we still find yeast she will need to see an infectious disease specialist. Oh yeah, we’re getting bigtime. But for right now, she’s babbling away in the swing having just gotten milk drunk on four whole oz of formula which she took without squirming.