Our Ordinary Days

Sick Boy

Elliot.  Poor Elliot.  He is a sick boy.  He has a terrible stomach bug.  A stomach bug that I'm hoping he doesn't share.  It's a bad one.

He started vomiting at midnight last night, and then he vomited every 20 minutes until the sun came up.  It. was. bad.

He was so miserable all day today.  We finally went to the doctor at 11.  By that time his vomiting had slowed to every hour.  Ugh.  The doctor gave him some medicine to stop the nausea.  Thankfully, the medicine was fast-acting.  He hasn't thrown up since.  And he has even kept some saltines and Gatorade down.

After our trek to the doctor, Elliot was feeling so exhausted and yucky and wanted nothing more than to get back on the couch and go to sleep.  We were getting home just in time before he melted down completely.  But to our disappointment, my garage door opener wouldn't work.  It wouldn't work!  And I didn't have a key to the house.  We were locked out.

I quickly devised a plan:  first, stop at my dear neighbor's house to see if she has any saltines; second, drive 10 minutes away to the battery store and get a new battery for the garage door opener; third, rush home and put the miserable boy on the couch.

My dear neighbor had saltines!!  And she even had some Sprite for Elliot to try!  Bless her!

The battery store had the right battery!  The nice man installed it for me, and only charged me $7.77!  I handed over my credit card, explaining that I would have paid WAY MORE than that at this point!  That lifesaver is definitely going on the Christmas card list for next year!

I ran (yes, I literally ran -- my sick boy was counting on me to hurry!) to the car and rushed home.  As we pulled up in the driveway and watched with relief as the garage door opened, Elliot had reached his limit.  He. was. miserable!

But he was home.  And he's been on the couch ever since.

And now we wait and we pray until we learn if the stomach bug is done with Elliot and if it's going to stick around our house or not.  Let's hope the mean ol bug makes his way down the street instead!  I mean, not to my dear neighbor's house, of course. . . .

$2 x 3

I'm looking for $6.  Gotta find $6 before morning.

Elliot is losing his baby molars.  Well, that's not exactly true.  Elliot is losing pieces of his baby molars.

The first one happened a month or so ago.  He was flossing -like all perfect children do- when the floss stuck to his tooth and broke half of it off.  Half of his molar was in his hand; half of his molar was still in place and not even loose.  Weird.

Since it didn't hurt him all that bad the next day, I decided we didn't have to rush to the dentist.

This weekend after Elliot was in bed, he felt with his tongue that the molar on the other side of his mouth was loose.  He touched it lightly with his tongue . . . and half of the molar broke off.  He came in my room again with half of his molar in his hand while the other half was still in his mouth not even loose.  Weird.  Weird, weird, weird. I stared into his mouth at 2 half molars firmly in place.  And these 2 halves did not make a whole!

So we went to the dentist on Monday morning.  I expected the dentist to call in all her friends while they stared and studied this odd phenomenon of teeth crumbling in a child's mouth.  But, surprisingly, she wasn't the least bit thrown.  It seems that it is not uncommon for baby teeth to crumble.  <shrug>

After xrays, the dentist showed me 2 more molars that were in danger of crumbling soon.  I signed the release for her to pull the 2 halves and one of the others.  I was sure wishing that 2 halves did make a whole so I wouldn't have to pay for all 3 teeth . . . .

So my boy had 3 extractions yesterday.  His eating and chewing is slightly inconvenienced.

And I need $6.

And then I have to maneuver up onto the 7 or so foot loft bed and carefully slip the money under his pillow.  I will try to be more graceful than I was the time that I completely fell on top of him while he was sleeping.  Thankfully he already knew that I was the tooth fairy; otherwise, that would have been a tough one to explain . . . .

Now, to find $6 . . . .

Update

I mentioned that Zach had an appointment with his psychiatrist in this post, but I never updated you on it.  At that appointment we told the psychiatrist about the big ol fits Zach was throwing several times a day.  After hearing all about our latest issues, the psychiatrist decided that the behaviors we were seeing were all caused by his anxieties.  He was feeling so anxious all the time that he was literally on the edge constantly, and any little thing that was unexpected or undesirable would push him over that edge into a big ol crazy fit.

She wanted to medicate for his anxieties and see if that helped him.  So she prescribed Zoloft, an antidepressant.  The kid is so medicated already, but if this medicine will give him some peace back in his life, then we were eager to do it!  We started him off on a low dose and then increased it after a week.  It didn't take long at all for his huge fits to subside.  Now, let me assure you, he was still throwing fits, but they were more like the normal fits that kids throw. Big improvement very quickly.  I was a happy Mama. . .  for a few days . . .

But then I started noticing some disturbing behaviors.  The doctor had warned me to watch out for any manic behaviors, and if I saw any then I was to take him to ER for inpatient care.  Sometimes starting a child on an antidepressant may bring out some mania that is there but hasn't been noticed before.  The doctor even mentioned Bipolar Disorder, which sounds like a very scary diagnosis that I hope we avoid.  Especially since we don't know Zach's birth family psych history, then she had no idea if we would see manic behaviors.  (In Bipolar Disorder or schizophrenia, the manic side is the happy, up-side as compared to the depressive side.)

Zach was very chatty, jumping randomly from one topic to another sometimes in mid-sentence.  He was having a hard time pronouncing some words or thinking of some words because his thoughts were coming so fast and his mouth (which already had some issues) was trying to keep up.

He was (and still is) nearly unbearably annoying.  Just literally out of control.  Yelling, chanting, hitting, bumping into everything, jumping on our backs.  He was very disrespectful, laughing or shouting, "NO!" when asked to do something.  But it was somehow obvious that he wasn't meaning to be disrespectful; it was literally out of his control.

And he talked about death several times.  The doctor had mentioned that as a possibility, but I honestly couldn't even imagine what that would look like in an 8 year old.  But Zach, in his chattyness in one conversation told me several different ways that you could die playing sports.  Most of those were hypothetical about just a person, but he did also make it a little more personal in one conversation explaining a scenario that could kill him.  And there were several other conversations about death that he had with me.  It just seemed weird and random.  It wasn't really even alarming or morbid or anything, but it did make me think about the doctor mentioning "talk of death."

When I asked Zach's teacher what she was noticing, she reported that he couldn't pay attention or sit still at all.  "It's almost like he's nervous," she said.

So I called the doctor and told her what we were seeing.  After hearing the details, she decided to wean him off of the Zoloft -- it's not a good medicine for him.  Today is the last day he will take the medicine.  We will see the doctor tomorrow and see what she says and see which medicine we will try next.

She said the medicine will still be in his system for 3 or 4 days.  He is still out-of-control annoying, bless his heart!  And he has had a few big fits and is crying more easily than usual.  I suppose it's all part of coming off of the medicine.

<sigh>  It's all just part of the journey.  And Zach is totally worth whatever it takes!!

Spilling the Beans

I told Zach about Mrs. K a couple of nights before our first appointment.  I told him that Mrs. K is a good person to talk to about anger and fears and feelings and that she would help him with all of that.  He, as usual, was totally fine with the idea of going to another "doctor."

But the night before the appointment as we were sitting at the table eating dinner, the boys started talking about the Thanksgiving lunch that the school cafeteria makes.  They both ranted and raved about it:  pumpkin pie!  stuffing!  turkey! gravy!  It is November so they knew it must be coming up soon.  Zachary informed us with lots of emotion that he had missed the Thanksgiving lunch last year because of a doctor appointment.  "I sure hope I don't miss it this year!" he exclaimed.

I was amazed that he remembered he had missed the special lunch last year and was sure he wouldn't miss this year's since we don't have many appointments scheduled.  To reassure him that he wouldn't miss the lunch, I said, "Well, as long as it's not tomorrow or next Tuesday or next Thursday, then you'll be there for the lunch."

Both boys immediately got up from the table and ran to the fridge to check the school lunch calendar.  A few seconds later, I knew that the special lunch must be scheduled for one of the three days I just mentioned because Elliot let out a heavy, "Oh, no!!" and Zippy started freaking out.

"It's tomorrow . . .," Elliot said.

I quickly realized that this appointment with a lady who is supposed to help Zach with his emotions and anxieties was turning out to be adding to his troubles.  If the Thanksgiving lunch was really that important to him, then I wanted him to be able to eat it.  And I mostly was feeling desperate to help calm him.  So I told him he didn't have to go to the appointment. Mrs. K had given me the choice of coming alone the first time or coming with Zach the first time.  I had thought we would come together, but I would be going alone after all.

So on Thursday at noon, while Zippy was thoroughly enjoying the Thanksgiving lunch at school, I met with Mrs. K to talk about him.  I liked Mrs. K.  We talked for about 45 minutes -- her asking questions and me answering them.

It is an amazing thing to put Zachary's issues and history into a nutshell.  It is amazing to stop and listen to myself list off the things that that child deals with . . . the things he "was dealt."  And it was amazing to watch Mrs. K, someone who knows the seriousness of the issues, to react to one, after another, after another, after another thing as it was revealed.

"Oh, and he has a seizure disorder," I said.

And we  continued to talk.  And Mrs. K's sympathy and surprise was obvious as I told her more and more things.  Things that are "old hat" to us.  They are life for us.

"Oh, and he has asthma."

Mrs. K flipped to a new page and  continued writing, shaking her head in amazement.

Listing all the details in one sitting like this feels a little overwhelming.  Even a little embarrassing for some reason.  I think it is embarrassing because it just seems so exaggerated and ridiculous.

"Oh, and he has an anaphylactic allergy to peanuts.  It is one of his biggest anxieties."

Mrs. K tells me that she has peanut butter crackers in her office today, but that next time we're there she will not have peanut butter.  She even decides that bringing peanut butter crackers in her office was a very bad idea to begin with.  I thought that was funny and cute and sweet.

"Oh, and he has ADHD."

Jeez, how did I forget to say that earlier?  This part is also embarrassing.  That I forgot to say he had ADHD.  Forgot?  How can a mom forget something like that?  That's one of the reasons we called Mrs. K to begin with.  Jeez.  What else had I forgotten to tell her?

"Oh, yeah.  He's black, and the rest of us are white."

Mrs. K put down her pen and looked at me.  Had she heard enough?  Had she decided that this mama sitting on her couch was making all this stuff up?  Was she mad that I was spilling the beans in a random order and messing up her note-taking?

But she answered with much sympathy, "Bless his heart.  He has so much to deal with."  And shaking her head again, she picked up her pen and continued writing.

She asked about Zach's sibling relationships.  I told her I thought they were pretty normal.  He and Elliot play and are friends, but they also fight a lot like brothers do.  And he adores Chloe. . . .

"He enjoys Chloe," I said.  "He likes to play with her.  But he sometimes gets so angry with her. . . .  Did I tell you that Chloe has special needs?"

Mrs. K froze.  She put her pen down.  Uh-oh.   I guess I hadn't mentioned that before.  Then she looked at me.  "How do you do it?  Are you so overwhelmed?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I replied.  "But usually not. . . .  We just carry on.  It's just life."

"It's YOUR life," she corrected, reminding me that our ordinary days are not really ordinary days at all.

"Yes, it's my life."

And it's Zach's life.

And Mrs. K is going to help him deal with it.  She will meet him in a couple of weeks.  I think she's going to like him.

A Quick Update

Surely it is just coincidence that 2 days after Halloween Zippy has a visible hole in his tooth accompanied by a toothache. . . .  Oh, brother!  We are off to the dentist this morning.

We are marking off days, watching the calendar as we wait to see Zachary's psychiatrist on November 10th.  His emotions continue to rage out of control.  He has several huge episodes everyday right now.  He's pitiful.  We all walk as if on egg shells -- or really as if tip-toeing around a land mine, hoping it stays stable and steady until we get past.  He has incredible mood swings:  screaming with glee and hugging me and doing a big ol belly laugh and circles in the kitchen as he's literally singing me a song declaring me the best Mom in the world . . . all because of his pleasure at discovering the package of raisins in the pantry;  then moments later when I ask him to throw a piece of trash away, he flails himself in the floor and screams and cries as if he's being attacked by unseen fire ants in a fit that seems to go on and on.  That is a picture of how our days are right now.  Hopefully the psychiatrist will be able to help us next week.  Six days and counting . . . .

We are excited to meet with a new counselor for Zach tomorrow.  We will have our first session tomorrow afternoon.  The appointment was supposed to be Zach, me, and Mrs. K, but last night we discovered that tomorrow is the Thanksgiving lunch at school tomorrow.  Apparently Zach missed Thanksgiving lunch at school last year because of a doctor appointment, and he nearly freaked out at the news of missing it again this year.  I'll call Mrs. K today to see about my coming in without Zach for the first visit.  It doesn't make much sense to add frustration and stress and disappointment to go see someone who is going to try to help us with those things.  A little counterproductive, if you ask me.  But I am hoping that Zach and Mrs. K will be a good match and that she will be able to help him with dealing with his emotions and anxieties.

Chloe's bowels/g.i. procedure:  The good news is that I haven't had to clean my carpets since her procedure!  So that part is somewhat under control.  I don't think the procedure was successful though.  I don't actually know exactly what I'm supposed to be looking for.  But what I was expecting success to be was bowel movements.  Like maybe a couple a day or something normal like that.  But I am still seeing constant pooping.  There's poop in every diaper.  So I am guessing that she still doesn't have any sphincter control.  I am pleased though with the changes the doctor made in her laxative medications -- I think she is staying cleaned out without me having to spot clean the carpets. . . .  Too much information?  We will see her g.i. doc in a couple of weeks to get his educated opinion.

Quick GI Update

Here's the low-down on Chloe's GI procedure yesterday.  Again, I must warn you that this post might be boring and will talk about poop!! Chloe was scheduled for anal botox injections yesterday.  Her sphincter muscle does not close, and the hope is that the botox injection will help it close.  This use of botox is sometimes successful, sometimes not.  (I'm resisting the urge to make a "no fine lines or wrinkles down there" comment.)  This procedure would require only gas anesthesia and only takes about 5 minutes, making it a very quick, easy deal. Well, lo and behold, when the doctor got in the room to do the injections, he did an anal exam and she was quite clogged, to say the least.  So they called us in the little chatting room and asked if they could add on a couple of more procedures.  We agreed. And we got to just stay and hang out in the little chatting room instead of going back into the busy waiting room with the masses.  We so enjoy any special treatment and jump at the opportunity to stay away from those coughing masses!!  And besides, food and drink are allowed in the private chatting room so I could drink my Java Chip Frappucino and Paul could eat his lunch. So they went ahead and did IV anesthesia, like they would do for surgery, since these other procedures would take a while.  The doctor basically chiseled Chloe clean (Yikes!)  and washed her out.  And he did a colonoscopy while he was at it. Then the doctor came back to the chatting room to give us the report.  I really like this doctor.  He is from Africa and has a strong accent that I love to listen to -- and I have gotten better at understanding his accent in the past year.  The first appointment we had with him, Chloe just giggled the whole time because she thought his voice was hilarious!  It was quite difficult to listen, interpret a strong accent, and process new medical stuff while Chloe just sat on the table laughing until she cried.  I always remind Chloe before appointments with him that this doctor is the tall, dark, and handsome one!  We love him.  ANYWAY, the doctor was again amazed at how much poop she had in her and was again amazed at how incredibly stretched out her colon is.  But we were all pleased that at the moment it was a clean colon.  I have photos, but I'll spare you that one! The plan for now is to vamp up and change her laxative program and to wait to see if the botox injections work.  If the botox works and the laxative program is successful, the hope is that her colon would contract enough on its own to shrink back down to size.  (Sorta like the uterus has to contract back down to size after a woman has a baby.  Yikes!  I didn't warn you that I'd also talk about girl parts in this post!!  Sorry!)  Then hopefully her normal-size colon might be able to contract enough (against a sphincter that can close thanks to botox) to have normal bowel movements on her own. I am laughing as I'm writing this.  I wonder if anyone is still reading!!  Although this is not at all technical, it is certainly personal . .  .  and the non-technical part is cracking me up!  :) Okay.  I think that's all I'll put you through today.  I am so tempted to include photos since I've already gone this far!!  But I won't. Chloe stayed home from school today because she was quite tired.  She has the swollen face and the sore throat and phlegmy sounding cough and voice from post-anesthesia and breathing tube.  But she is happy as can be and is loving being home.  She is such a homebody!  She has spent a good part of the day loving on Butterscotch, the oh-so-soft doggy that Mimi bought her at the hospital yesterday.  Chloe and Butterscotch have been inseparable and have been just a squeaking away at each other!

Outpatient Trooper

Chloe had an outpatient procedure today.  As usual, she was quite a trooper!  It ended up being a little more involved than we had thought, but all went well.  Now we will cross our fingers and say our prayers that we get good results from the procedure! Here's a photo of Chloe konked out after the whole ordeal.  She's got red post-anesthesia face.  I took this photo with Zippy's pitiful camera since Sleeping Beauty has hidden mine somewhere . . .

Medication and Respect

When Zippy was in kindergarten we made the very difficult decision to medicate for his ADHD. I strongly believe that the decision to medicate or not is highly personal and should be silently respected by other parents.  That sounds pretty strong, eh?  I feel that way because every child is different, every family is different, and the decision can be a highly emotional one.  It was quite emotional for me. Before deciding to medicate him, Paul and I had already decided that medication would be a last resort for Zippy.  We would try behavior modification techniques; we would try restrictive diet; we would try supplements; we would try therapy, etc.  We would certainly try lots of love and prayer! But by the time we were in need of help, I was SO DESPERATE for that help that I would have begged and pleaded for a prescription for Zippy!  You have to realize that by the time we reached this point, I had sat through many, many doctor visits and received more than my share of bad news and heartbreaks sitting in exam rooms with my children.  But the only time I have ever broken down and cried in front of a doctor was the day I asked the pediatrician for ADHD meds.  I was so sad, and I felt like such a failure.  I felt like deciding to medicate Zachary was equal to saying that I did not like the way that God had created him and that I wanted the doctor to help me change who Zachary really was.  It completely broke my heart!  But I was desperate to help him . . . to help me . . . to help our family. The pediatrician was shocked when I broke down in front of him.  I think he had always felt sorry for me and was more than a little bit amazed at me for my joy and peace through the years.  Bless his heart, he didn't know what to do when the strong-pillar Mama broke down and cried!  He just patted my knee and placed a hand on my shoulder.  And then he handed me the prescription.  I cried all the way to the pharmacy.  And I cried when I went back the next day and picked up the medicine.  I cried the first couple of days I opened that capsule and poured it in a spoon of applesauce for my baby to swallow. Then, I started seeing the changes. His teacher said he was able to sit still and participate during circle time at school.  She said he was completing his color sheets and wasn't falling out of his chair as often.  He also wasn't getting in trouble at home as much as before.  He seemed to be able to listen better and to be able to follow some simple directions. I remember taking him to the eye doctor (the one who prays with us!) soon after starting the medication.  I sat amazed as I watched him sit in that big exam chair and do every little thing the doctor asked him to do.  He never once stood on his head in the big exam chair.  He never once plopped himself in the middle of the floor during the exam.  He never yelled out or grabbed things from the doctor's hands.  He never once got in trouble during the exam.  And I cried again.  I cried, happy that Zachary was able to control himself.  I cried, rejoicing that Zachary was pleased with his behavior.  I cried, proud that the doctor had noticed and had bragged on Zach.  I cried, relieved that we had made the right decision for our son. While medication is the right decision for Zachary, it is not the right decision for all children with ADHD.  I think parents have to do the research, pray earnestly, and then do what they think is best for their child. I chose to medicate my child.  But I also choose to respect the decisions that other parents make for their children.