So, we have found a rheumatologist. Specifically, of course, a pediatric rheumatologist. Because, when The Wrench and I look at all of The Twinkie's symptoms, they do fit fibromyalgia. Really well. Really, really well. So - while trying NOT to get our hopes up too much - we have an appointment with a doctor we found in the Yellow Pages. I feel weird about just taking any name from the phone book. So, I continue to troll the Web, trying to find a hint, a suggestion of who we should go see.
All the while, trying hard not to get my hopes up that this is "it". That this will be the time we come home with a diagnosis.
That is a weird notion.
"I'll take 'Sentences a Parent should never have to Utter' for $500, Alex.I certainly never thought that I would find myself sifting through the Internet in search of a diagnosis, hoping that it would be something "good" like fibromyalgia. "Good" in this instance is a relative term. Because if there *has* to be something wrong, let's hope it is something relatively benign, like fibromyalgia. And there is something wrong; what it is we just don't know.
"Let's hope that it is fibromyalgia, honey!".
Oh, the enemy unknown is so much harder to fight....