When he was 6 he started a research treatment for his milk anaphylaxis. I would take him once a week early in the morning. Each time, he would hide in the ficus while waiting for his name to be called. My 8 month pregnant body was too large to crouch there with him, but, oh how I wanted to be there with him.
Yesterday was our annual appointment that I had rescheduled 4 times. Essentially I hid in the swirl of days and other children and all the excuses I could think because I am four years not pregnant and still I haven’t found a ficus to fit. I don’t even think there is a single breed of indoor plant that could hide my squishy, aging body. I didn’t want to go because every time we have gone, his body has improved in one arena: less aggressive/deadly immune system. But his body has also added something new: environmental allergies, more environmental allergies, asthma. I didn’t want anything new. I only wanted boring. I wanted a refill on prescriptions and a list of checked boxes that all said keep on keeping on you son with persistent yet controlled immune issues.
Congratulations to us. He was slightly puffy. Coughing. Irritated because of the three days without meds prior to the appointment. But other wise he was a boring patient and bored while waiting. All the boxes were ticked, prescriptions renewed, and annual appointment made. We did not need to hide behind flora that offered no protection anyway. He just sat there next to me. He was bored. And gruntled.