Enormity

Great day in the autism department. We met with the child psychologist and she was smart, kind, and most importantly, well-educated about autism. She honed in on the emotional regulation issue immediately. But what I liked the most was how much time she spent on his exceptional and amazing qualities. (and that she really listened to him)

For the first time I realized that the reason I've discounted a lot of what we've heard from the special education teachers at his school is that they never seem to view him as a whole person. It always feels like he's a set of issues that need to be overcome. That they're just doing what they can to get him back into the herd.

But the woman we met today - let's call her Dr. Wonderful - saw him as a whole person. A charming, smart, articulate little boy who gets overwhelmed and doesn't know how to express himself. A person that's coping the best way he knows how. She shrunk his autism down to size, rather than letting it take up the whole frame, as it so often likes to do.

The plan is to keep seeing Dr. Wonderful to work on helping him regulate his emotions - which, she explained, basically comes down to "learning to tell people what you need, so that they can give it to you." (couldn't we all benefit from such a lesson?) If he can learn how to do this, we should be able to reduce, if not eliminate, the meltdowns that disrupt his everyday activities. (Insert huge sigh of relief)

That's what she's doing for Owen. But what she did for me today was confirm what I've long suspected, but still allow myself to doubt sometimes: He's going to be okay.

Sure, school will be a little harder for him sometimes. Conversations might always take more effort for him. But in the grand scheme of things, he's fine.

I know it seems small, but it's not. It's enormous.

Don't freak out, it's just H1N1

Oh, irony.

Last week, I was up to my eyeballs in corporate communications about H1N1. Really just recycled statements and tips from the WHO and CDC, but intended to provide employees with some sort of comfort that their company has the inside scoop on this pandemic. I learned all about flu shots and preventative measures and, I'll admit, after several days of this, I bought into the hysteria a little bit.

Two days ago, Owen woke up with a 102 degree fever. Since he'd just been in the ER on Sunday, I called his pediatrician's office and they said he should come in. After examining him, his doctor calmly told me that Owen had the flu and that it was most likely H1N1, although they couldn't know for sure because the Health Department is no longer accepting tests unless patients are in the hospital. Turns out that the flu often presents itself as croup in young children, meaning it can come on suddenly with the breathing issues, but then live on as the regular flu for days afterward.

The doctor went on to say that H1N1 is really the only flu around at the moment, as the seasonal strain isn't expected to arrive until December or January (good info for everyone running out to get seasonal flu shots), so if you've got the flu, it's probably H1N1. He also assured me that the media had blown the severity of the virus out of proportion, as all of the cases he had seen had been relatively mild*. Oh, but it is highly contagious, so we should expect to get it, too.

I want to pause for a moment here to add that I asked our pediatrician about the H1N1 vaccine and the hype about thimerosal. He recommends that both of my boys get the vaccine and says that any link to autism is "hooey." True, it's just one opinion, but it's the opinion of a highly-esteemed medical professional to whom I trust my children's health.

After leaving the doctor's office, I had to call my boss and let her know that I would need to reschedule our meeting to discuss updates to the H1N1 intranet site because, um, my son has H1N1. I love it when the universe has a sense of humor.

So for a few days now, I've been in a bit of an H1N1 quarantine. Owen is much better and none of the rest of us have gotten it, but I keep waiting...every cough, every throat tickle makes me think that it's coming...but so far, so good.

Actually, I think I've enjoyed the quarantine a little too much, as it reminds me of getting to stay home every day. No dressing up. No office politics. No commute. I like it so much that I'm renewing my commitment to making better financial decisions, as it has been all too easy to slip back into spending what we have, now that we have two regular paychecks. But that is for another post.

For now, I'm content to take care of my sickie, while hoping that I'm not next.

*Please note: Someone in my office has a personal connection to one of the kids that died of H1N1 in Memphis recently, so I am well aware that it can be serious. The message here is that overwhelmingly it's not.

Gall-y

Today began with an ultrasound of my gall bladder. After telling the technician that the only other time I'd had an ultrasound was when I was pregnant, she said, "It will be just like that...only not fun." (I think she might have missed her calling in marketing.)

How did we get here? Well, it seems that upper abdominal pain + deep middle back pain + right shoulder pain = gall bladder trouble. I was actually thrilled to learn that all three pains might actually be coming from the same culprit...plus, it's an organ that I don't really need anyway. 

Ok, but backing up, I should note here that my doctor visit yesterday turned out not to be a physical because apparently a woman's annual visit to the OB/GYN is considered a "physical" and therefore another physical -- one with a family practice doctor -- is not covered under insurance. Guess I should have thought to ask my OB/GYN about my shoulder...can't imagine why I didn't. 

Back to the ultrasound...as I said, I'm encouraged by the prospect of locating the source of this pain and maybe actually making it stop for good, so I was in pretty good spirits as I entered the radiology department. However, once I was laying on the exam table with jelly on my gut, it occurred to me that whenever they look inside you, there's always a chance they might find something unexpected. Something worse than a faulty gall bladder. 

As these thoughts filled my mind, I tried to read the technician's face...Why is she squinting? Why is she staring so long at that particular gray blob? Does she always make people turn on their side or is my ailment stretching unusually far down the side of my torso?

It would appear, however, that they either train the ultrasound technicians to give nothing away or they stop just short of teaching them to actually interpret the images so they can't actually tell what's going on. Either way, I am left without any information for another few days.

Here's hoping it's just my useless old gall bladder. 

Let's Get Physical

Nothing makes me hungrier than being told not to eat...beginning in 8 minutes, I have to fast for 12 hours so they can check my cholesterol and blood sugar at my physical tomorrow. 

That's right, I finally scheduled a physical. I love health insurance! I am bringing my laundry list of maladies. I plan to throw it all at the unsuspecting doctor and see what sticks...but I'm hoping none of it requires any additional prescriptions because honestly, I am at my limit with remembering to take pills. In addition to the pill (you know the one), I am now forced to take antibiotics THREE TIMES A DAY for THREE WEEKS to see if I can clear up my sinuses without needing additional surgery, plus my allergy medicine, plus nasal spray...I think I might have turned 80 without realizing it. 

So think of me tomorrow while you're enjoying your morning latte and eggs (or whatever). I will be crabby and hungry and probably being told, "I'll have to order some further tests." 

Wait, why am I doing this again?

No Good, Very Bad Day

The last 24 hours have been very eventful and strange...not always in a good way.  As I mentioned in my previous post, my beloved cat was put to sleep yesterday evening. (Oh, and here's a tip: If looking at your recently departed pet makes you cry, maybe don't post a giant photo of her on your blog...unless you like staring into her sad eyes every time you visit your page.)

In a bizarre twist of fate, right around the time my cat was being euthanized, I got offered a well-paying project by someone I know and respect. The catch? It will force me to re-enter the lion's den...to return to my former corporate employer (albeit temporarily) and not just attend meetings, but lead them. But I'm a big girl, right? I can do this. It's been two and a half years! So why did my stomach immediately clench up? Seriously, we are beyond counting cars at this point. Stay tuned to see if this is what pushes me over the edge. 

So today started out nicely enough with a playdate at the park. Then right around lunch time, the sky started growing dark...and darker...and darker. Then the tornado sirens went on, so I gathered my boys and we went down to the basement. Naturally, I had the TV on to see if we were, in fact, going to be swept up in a funnel cloud, but in an effort to distract my little worrywart, Aidan, I decided we needed some lighter viewing. I was relieved to find a rerun of "America's Best Dance Crew," which easily took the boys' minds off of the storm...

Until the screen went black and a foreboding voice who identified himself as a member of the police force came on to tell us that we were under a severe thunderstorm warning, that the storm could be dangerous and that we should not call the police department unless there was an emergency. Did you know that could happen? I didn't. I thought cable provided a cocoon from local threats. So much for pretending all was well. 

Conveniently, the storm stopped in time for us to leave for the boys' 5-year check-up at the doctor's office (yes, I'm tardy on that one). In good news, there was not only no tornado, but also none of the promised hail. Just a lot of wind and rain.

So we are walking out the door for the doctor's appointment, when I see smoke coming from behind my garage. A tree that stands approximately one foot from my garage is on fire. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be caught in the power lines and is throwing sparks...a lot of sparks...very close to the roof of my garage. I call 911. In minutes, a volunteer firefighter comes walking up my driveway (he must be one of my neighbors - who knew?). He takes a look and tells me they'll get to it as soon as they can, but in the meantime, it's not going to burn my garage down. He seems like he probably knows what he's talking about, so off we go to the doctor's office...with me only mildly concerned that I might not have a garage when I return. 

The check-up goes fine -- the boys regale their doctor with detailed descriptions of both their birthday party and the Wii games they received at the party -- until it's time for the dreaded 5-year immunizations. Only, they didn't know to dread them because I didn't warn them ahead of time. I figured there was no reason to make them worry. I also figured they'd do fine now that they are older...

What I did not figure was that they didn't know what it meant to "get a shot" and by the time I realized their confusion, the needles (4 of them!) were already going into Aidan's arms. "Ow! It hurts!" he exclaimed, completely surprised and confused. "I know," I whispered, feeling terrible that I didn't give him a better idea of what to expect. 

And then there was my little Owen, who was sitting right there the whole time, but somehow managed to block out his brother's cries of pain and make his way onto the exam table completely oblivious to what was about to happen. Whereas Aidan had yelped, Owen screamed. "It hurts!" he yelled at me, expecting me to make it stop. "Please!" he cried at the nurses. And even though by then it was over, I couldn't help it, I cried too...he was just so shocked that anyone would hurt him on purpose, it was heartbreaking. 

I am happy to report that a couple of lollipops took the boys' minds off the shots (although now they are both complaining that their arms hurt) and my garage did not burn down while we were gone. However, I have had enough for one day...or two days, as it were. 

It's time for some brainless television and a glass of wine. I have to rest up...who knows what I might need my strength for tomorrow.