32: A Bittersweet Goodbye to Dr. G

   

A little over a month ago Dr. G and I decided we would check in after our summer vacation to make sure my daughter is still doing well. If all is well, it will be time to say goodbye. I agree that I think we are now ready although I choke back a lump in my throat at the mention of having to say goodbye to her. 

      In the meantime, we spend a really wonderful month in Utila, Honduras. This is our island destination and our home away from home for the past 7 years. If you have read through this blog, you will remember that it had become a very difficult place to go with her for a few years. With boats, food that needs to be chosen more carefully, fruits and veggies that need to be washed with the utmost care and lots of other things that can terrify an emetophobic. 

    This time was wonderful. We had a great time visiting with our friends that live there and we met some new amazing people. We went on our little boat often, went horseback riding through the jungle and the beach, snorkeling, dock jumping, and found new creative ways to fight the boredom that creeps in when you are on an island that is only 3 by 7 miles. 

     During an unforgettable dinner one night at Chez Lola, I had an experience I think I have never had before. The incredible feeling of living in the moment. While sitting next to the love of my life, and sharing dinner with amazing friends both new and old from around the world. It hit me. We had all talked about our lives and shared stories and history. I shared our story with our new friend, who ironically is a psychologist at a university.    

    

Conversations went on and I was quietly taking it all in. I was thinking of our past couple of years and thankful for how we have come out on the other side after all that we went through. It was then that our friend John started quietly talking in my ear and saying just what I was thinking - How lucky are we to be sitting here at this young French couple's home/restaurant in a secluded boat access only section of a tiny island off the coast of Honduras surrounded by amazing people. Tears of joy and beauty and accomplishment started to trickle down my cheeks and I could not stop them. I felt alive and at peace. Suddenly, in that moment, all was right and beautiful.

      A few days after we came back home to Miami we had our appointment to see Dr. G. We talked about our trip and how she did really well. We show off her hands which are looking better from not washing them too much. Dr. G asks us if we are ready to say good bye and my daughter and I say we think it is time. She tells us how we have been her most successful clients and that she will never forget us. She tells her how proud of her she is for all of her hard work. She also thanks me for putting my trust in her and not giving up. Then Dr. G says let's go have an ice cream party! So we meet her across the street and have ice cream for lunch. 

     When it is time to say goodbye, we exchange hugs in the parking lot. I am choking back tears. I let Dr. G know how grateful I am for her help and for the fact that she has saved my child and our family. I give her such a tight hug and I wish I would never have to let go. I don't know if you have ever had to say goodbye to someone who has saved your child's life, but it is not an easy task. 

     I get in the car and we are both tearing up. I give her a big hug and she sobs in my arms. I let her know that I am so proud of her. We talk about how hard it is to say goodbye to someone that has had such an impact on your life. I feel like maybe she didn't let Dr. G really know how she felt about her so I ask her if she wants to write her a letter and we can give it to her. She agrees and writes a beautiful letter with photos when we get home.

     I call Dr. G the next day and let her know that she wants to give her the letter. Dr. G tells us that the director of the clinic would like both of us to do a post interview with another clinician so that they can see on paper how she has improved. It is a mini interview much like the 4 hour evaluation we did the first time we went to the clinic back in October. She makes sure they can arrange it when she is there so that we can see her afterwards and give her the letter.

     The next week we head back to the clinic for the post therapy interview. My daughter goes in first and I get a big packet of questionnaires to fill out just like back in October. Then we switch and it is my turn to go in while she fills out papers in the waiting room. As the clinician is asking me all of the same questions on rating her anxiety and depression and suicidal thoughts, I am trying hard not to cry. I am remembering my answers back in October during the first evaluation. I am just so overwhelmed with gratitude and amazement at how different my answers are this time. I don't show my emotions and I manage to get through the interview without any tears, until Dr. G comes in at the end. 

     Now we really have to say goodbye. All over again. Dr. G meets with her first and she reads the letter and they talk. When they call me back in we talk about how hard it is to say goodbye. I tearfully tell her that I cannot even imagine where we would be without her help. 
     We hug again, I cry some more, and we leave the clinic. The clinic and the psychologist that have saved my beautiful child and my family. As hard as it is to leave, I hope we will never need their help again. A bittersweet goodbye.