The Final Stretch (not the yoga kind)

If all goes well, I will be able to stop being such a drama queen after today.

Oh, I know you're getting sick of it: Kawasaki this and Kawasaki that. If I were a helmet-wearing crotch-rocket enthusiast then maybe you'd forgive me. But I'm not. I'm just a mom with a blog who's kid got sick last year and she hasn't been able to fully let it go yet.

A careful analysis of my posts over the last few months reveals the following thematic pattern:

My kids are crazy!
I'm also crazy!
Look! I watch TV and I write about it!
Spawnling had Kawasaki Disease. Poor us.
I like coffee. A lot.
Spawnling said he would kick a baby if I let him.
Did I mention he had Kawasaki last year? Did I mention that sucked donkey gonads?
I'm anxious about a lot of stuff. No idea why.
Oh, wait... No. My kid's anxious, actually. Maybe I'm just a spaz.
I read my blog out loud and made new friends! I'm a celebrity!
Except I'm not because I never post anything lately. Maven who?
Boohoo Kawasaki.
Look! I drew something funny!
Childhood anxiety sucks.
I really, really like coffee.
I should write about something original. Hey, I know! Ever heard of Kawaski Disease?

See? No matter what I do, I always come back to the same sad topic: an illness that was treated and so far has shown no signs of permanent damage. My constant need to write about this stuff is a problem. Next thing I know, I'll agree to be in a documentary about Kawasaki Disease. I'll be heading to my final appointment to talk about scary it was, only to walk into a room full of blog readers holding letters and crying about how I need to get help. Today, or they'll never read me again. And once I agree, I'll be whisked off to a rehabilitation centre for drama queens and attention whores. There will be some debate as to what my problem actually is, but in the end we'll probably decide I need treatment for both addictions. There will be talk of acceptance and letting go and perspective. I'll be told that it could have been much worse. I'll be told that people are tired of it rearing its ugly head in my writing, sapping me of creativity. And we'll probably have a follow-up interview to show how well I'm doing as a recovering drama queen/attention whore.

Or, we could just wait until later this morning and I'll probably feel like forty pounds of Coscto carrots have been lifted off my shoulders. Spawnling has his one year post-Kawasaki follow-up ECG, where they'll do a final check for heart damage. Since they didn't find any last year, they likely won't find any today. Then, we'll get the all-clear, he will be formally discharged from the hospital's cardiology department, and we will go through life not worrying about his little ticker unexpectedly detonating in the middle of a soccer field a few years from now.

My wise friend with a sick child (you know who you are, Gussachi Goddess) told me before Spawnling's ECG last year that if you look at your kid, you'll know if he's healthy. All year we've seen the littlest gremlin grow into his horns, sprout a nice set of claws and tackle everything that life throws at him. He's chatty, outgoing, hilarious and-- well, he's totally awesome like his mom.

Back when Spawn was in the hospital, Meanie put me in touch with Chantal, who's son had Kawasaki Disease a couple of years before. Since it's one of those exceedingly rare things, being able to read a local moms' firsthand accounts on her own blog meant the world to me. She's been my go-to gal when I've occasionally needed a "I know what you're going through" ear.  She's also damn funny, for the record. When I got to the point in her posts about Alex's one year follow-up ECG showing a healthy heart, I could feel her sigh of relief. I knew if we could just get there, Geekster and I would feel better, too.

Spawnling's heart is good. I know that without them even hooking him up to the machine. I feel it to the core. Is there a chance I'm wrong? Sure there is, but we'll cross that dreadful bridge if we get to it.  This morning, I'm choosing to walk into that appointment feeling excited instead of scared, holding his little hand, eager to close this chapter of his life. Once we get the all clear, I will truly feel better. I'll know he's going to be okay.

So, all this to say that you can burn the letters and send the camera crew packing. Because today, a week prior to Spawnling's 4th birthday, I am anticipating some good news and will promptly toss my tired old tiara in the garbage as soon as I hear it.

 Thank you for being here through all the ups and downs. For not telling me to shut up and be funny when I don't feel like it. For letting me go through all the emotions. Today is a big day. It will be a good day. If they tell us right after the test, which I suspect they will, I'll update as soon as I get home.