5 posts shown.
Just let me know how it goes. Best,
Actually, I was asking about this for my mom—she’s at the point where surgery is pretty much her only option left. We’re heading to see Smith this Monday; she doesn't take appointments and is only seeing patients on this specific day. Since I've been asking around lately, I've heard from several different people that she's honestly one of the best out there.
Gerald White5, thanks a ton. I'm going to try and get ahold of someone right away.
I was wondering if anyone could recommend a solid vascular specialist at any of the hospitals here in Washington, D.C.?
Thomas Fowler84, those words you used—saying you were afraid Leonica would end up like "that" Martina—well, Martina is a person with her own name, she isn't just some "her." I don't know if you have kids yourself, but I do, and God forbid any of them ever face an illness like this... I would move heaven and earth, clawing at everything in my way, just to help them, exactly like Leonin's parents are doing. And Danijela, please listen: there is absolutely nothing humiliating about asking for help. We all know that regular families like ours don't even have $100 tucked away for emergencies, let alone $200,000. In many cases, we have the media, newspapers, and TV stations to thank because they help spread the word—people actually want to help. Maybe if Martina had been featured in the news earlier, she might still be here with us among so many other children. Thomas Fowler84, God forbid your own child ever becomes a burden on the state; maybe then you'd truly understand what a child means and what parental love really is. I am praying for Leona, and I know she’s going to get better and be that same happy little girl she’s always been, no matter what she has to go through. If you can't wish these parents well, then please, just stop talking nonsense—it's pointless. Leona is going to pull through, she already is. Honestly, it would be much smarter of you to just chip in a few bucks.
Growing up, my mom used to discipline me behind the ear—I can still feel it. And I’ll honestly never forget when I was in eighth grade and she found a note from some boy; she absolutely tore me apart for it. Looking back on it now, I just feel this deep sense of shame. It’s like she made it impossible for me to even experience being in love, or even just being eighteen. I don't know what she expected from me, really, but I never felt like I could talk to her about anything in my life. When I got my first period, the first person I told was my grandma. My mom was always comparing me to someone else, too—to be honest, I can’t even remember the last time she gave me a hug, except for that one time I was in the hospital and I just threw myself at her. Even writing this now, the tears are starting to come. I respected her because, well, she was my mother and you just listen, and we eventually found our way to being friends after I got married, but I never actually told her how much she hurt me back then. Now, I just cry and vent to my husband. Today, I have two kids, both boys, and I have never—ever—laid a hand on them. Not even a little tap, not even during a diaper change, though if I'm being real, I could probably knock my oldest flat every single day. But I refuse to let my child hide from me, run away, or shut me out. Sure, I raise my voice sometimes, and yeah, occasionally I lose my cool and yell until my voice cracks, but I am just so incredibly grateful that when my oldest comes home from school, he actually talks to me about his day. Communication is a bit harder with him, but I try so hard because I don't want there to be secrets between us, no matter what they are. It’s much easier with the younger one. Whatever problems they face in the future, I will always strive to be there and help them through it. If I had a boyfriend back in high school, my mom would have probably threatened to disown me in the local newspaper. And yet, seeing her today, she’s such a wonderful grandmother to my boys—she’s so patient with them—and it just makes me wonder why she couldn't have been even an eighth of that person when she was raising me.