We waited a month for this visit.

In the grand scheme of “waiting for a specialist”  times that has ever been for us – a month isn’t bad.

Still. We waited a month. Worried over her shoulder, and what the doctor would say. Our geneticists suggestion of “Connective tissue disorder” ringing in our ears.

We worried.

Hoped for the best, expected the worst.

Wondered over whether there’d be an MRI. Or possible surgery.

Of all our fears we never once expected it to become what it was.

We never expected to be left wondering how a visit to a specialist would turn into a horrible vaudeville joke.

“It clicks when she does this.”

“Well, then don’t do that.”

~blink blink~

You would think I was exaggerating.

But I’m not.

None of our concerns were truly addressed.

We were dismissed with a prescription for therapy for “Scapular strengthening”. Told that she shouldn’t click her shoulder. And that was that.

No words about the connective tissue question.

He barely touched her shoulder, only tested her strength.

The geneticist spent more time on her shoulder than this doctor. He didn’t check to see if her arm dislocated like the referring doctor did.

An X-Ray.

A bad vaudeville joke (and he wasn’t even kidding).

And no answers.

Still.

I don’t even know where to go from here.