E.B.
I want to offer you some encouragement. Not about veins and redness and medical issues, but about being the mother who's waiting for an appointment, who's fearing the worst, who's noticing symptoms, who's wondering if it's nothing, or the start of something - maybe something minor or something life-altering.
I have been there. Our daughter, now a young adult, was born with many troubling and debilitating symptoms. Some were recognized by doctors and were a rather simple fix, and some have continued to stump doctors to this day, even at the Mayo Clinic.
I remember the first MRI, when she was just a few months old. I sat in the waiting room, with her in her stroller, and I looked around at the other parents. One was calmly helping her severely disabled child who seemed to be about 10 years old, unable to verbalize what was troubling him. Another parent seemed to be very at home at the MRI department, smiling and greeting the nurses by name, as though she had been through this too many times. I couldn't help but fearfully wonder if this would be me, a dozen years later, being a familiar face in the hospital units. And I wondered how the parents still smiled and stayed calm.
I couldn't help but worry, with increasing fear, every time I picked my baby up from her nap. Was she ok? Was that a spot? Did she feel feverish? Were we seeing enough doctors?
But someone encouraged me to stop that. Kindly but firmly. We had doctors, our daughter was getting good care, even if her illnesses were unresolved. She was still our baby, and we needed to stop looking at her like a science project, and remember that she was a baby, a little child who still loved her mama and dada, who wanted to steal a taste of our ice cream, and was curious and bright. It was the kick that I needed. The person who encouraged me was our pediatrician. And he didn't do it as a medical professional, but as a dad. His own first child was just a year old and had just received a devastating diagnosis - his baby would not survive more than a few more months and his ability to see, move, hear, cry, and breathe would fade quickly. There was no cure. I have never forgotten that moment.
So, try not to focus right now on redness or veins or temples or skin tone. You have upcoming appointments and all the worrying in the world won't speed those up. Try to be patient. It would be one thing if no doctor would listen to you or refer you, or if you had no access to medical care, but it sounds like you have a specialist to see, and an MRI. Trust. Relax. Enjoy your child.
Even if the tests show that she has an abnormal vein, or a condition, or whatever, you're still her mom, she's still your girl, and you're going to need to be strong, and brave, and you're going to have to help her grow into an equally strong young lady who is more than her illness or diagnosis. It starts with you. You can either be the fearful mom who's dreading every symptom, or you can be the trusting mom who's fully informed of the symptoms but empowering your child to be more than a diagnosis.