Bini had his first appointment yesterday. It went exactly as we thought.
He needs at least one more surgery, possibly more depending on how well this one goes.
3 weeks in full leg casts.
3 more weeks in knee down casts.
That was the basic gist of the appointment.
“Will he ever walk ‘normal’? I ask
“Yes he should, though when he runs you’ll probably always be able to notice a difference, his ankle bones are just kind of fused together from being older than most kids.” The doc says. And then adds, “You’ll want to get him the best education you can because he won’t be able to work on his feet. People with club feet start noticing mid-foot pain in their 40s. That’s at least 20 years before retirement so you won’t want that.”
Ironic, I suppose, since my son was born in a country where he would’ve had to work on his feet. Had he remained in Ethiopia, there’s a good chance he would’ve been one of the beggers on the street. I’m not exaggerating here, I would say at least half the people we saw on the side of the street who were too old to be considered kids had some sort of lameness to their legs. Whether from club feet, polio or what have you. It’s just too depressing to think about.
But he was impressed with how well Bini got around now (everyone is) which makes him optimistic for Bini’s future.
I don’t know, it was exactly as we thought. When we were considering the boys on the waiting child listing we figured, “Yeah, we’ll get him home and then we’ll have another surgery or so and it’ll be fine.”
And it will.
But it’s different. This isn’t some little boy in Ethiopia who might one day be my son.
This is my son. And I don’t want him to suffer through this. Through the surgery, through a night in a hospital. Through 3 weeks with hot casts that won’t allow him to walk.
This is my son.
Which makes this whole thing totally blow.
It’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, logically I know this.
But man what I wouldn’t give to take his suffering.
So if I needed any reassuring as to whether I’m loving this little boy. There it is.
None of this leaves me with regrets, only a renewed vigor to enter into suffering with this boy who’s crawled his way into my heart and made a home there. So here we go.