Despite his slow weight gain, Iz is fantastic -- has excellent nutritional levels and no growth hormone issues. He may have earned the diagnosis of "contitutional delay of growth and puberty" (instead of "failure to thrive"), which basically means he is little and will be littl for longer. (Who needs to worry about when a 17-month-old will hit puberty?). I don't think insurance covers this "condition," but, as luck would have it, there is no treatment but time -- I have no doubt that he will keep growing. His father was a little child. His paternal grandfather (Pop pop) was a little child. Now they are both six-plus feet tall. Now, it is my family that is short -- across the board -- but we were all medium to large sized babies. So Iz will be a giant. (Right?)
The worries about my mother continue. She starts chemotherapy now (she may even be receiving treatment as I write, since she is 14 hours ahead, in Monday morning). No more prognosis until they see how she responds to the treatments -- she could live for only months, for years, or for years and years. Iz and I fly out to see her on October 4. I feel as if I am in a holding pattern until I see her -- a bit helpless and sad.