Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘whining’ Category

Tonight it feels like I can’t catch a break even if I used a net.

My wunderkind is down again. A dear friend emailed me yesterday “apparently no one told Nik he has special needs.” Apparently no one told him he was sick, either.

Today was a bumpy day after a bumpy night in a string of bumpy nights. Then the wheels fell off the bus. Nik broke out in a very fine, pinpoint raised red rash on his back, his feet and ankles, his arms, under his arms…

What’s a mother to do when her child is on so freaking many meds and has multiple medical diagnoses? It could be from the antibiotic —unlikely as he’s taken this one many times with no side effects, but you never know. It could be —waaaay scarier —a rash caused by one of his seizure meds. We talked to our awesome neurologist this evening (he even gave us his cell phone number!) and he told us to stop the medication entirely. Not something that is normally recommended with this kind of med but he wanted to err on the side of caution as the alternative could be, um, potentially permanent.

Then again, it could be something viral like roseola. Or, possibly, something else entirely.

Yeah, Niksdad and I really relish the idea of spending a sunny, beautiful Saturday traveling to the hospital to have someone that doesn’t know anything about Nik tell us, “Um, well, we’re not really sure…” Yet, we have to cover all the bases —just in case. Nik’s fooled us in the past and it hasn’t been fun.

There’s a little more to the story but I don’t have the mental energy to try to tell it. Something about the increase in all the icky “mysterious pain” behaviors and the angst of watching my son struggle so. I tried to tell him tonight, as he cried and pulled me to him —clinging to me like a monkey —that his Daddy and I are trying really hard to make it all better. I think he understands that; I hope he does. My heart aches and I am frustrated.

Can’t we just deal with one stinkin’ thing at a time? ARGH!

And have I mentioned that I’d sooo much rather be at BlogHer with Susan, Kristina, Vicki, Jennifer, Kristen, Jordan, Stimey, and a bajillion other potential blogging friends? Or DisneyLand with my pal, Drama Mama, and her awesome girls?

*sigh*

(Thanks in advance for the prayers and warm thoughts.)

Read Full Post »

Look out! Look out!
They’re walking around the bed
On their head
Clippety cloppety
Arrayed in braid
Pink elephants on parade


“Pink Elephants On Parade,” from Dumbo

It feels like there’s a huge pink elephant sitting in the middle of my cyber living room and I cannot get past it to write anything else until I deal with it. Of course, no one else can see this elephant because it is really in my mind. But since blogging seems to help me work out some of these things, well, you lucky readers will get to join me in my sorting it out. Grab your hankies, this feels like an emotional journey of epic proportions today.

Since Nik was born, this has always been a very difficult time of year for me. I know that it should be filled with joy and hope, faith and miracles, and all that sort of stuff. But for me, try as I might to let it go, it still carries the essence of anxiety. The glimmers of impending catastrophe that gnaw through my veneer of calm, cool collectedness.

We knew just before Thanksgiving that there was something “not quite right” with my pregnancy. I spent the two nights before Thanksgiving at the hospital getting steroid shots and being monitored for hours before they would let me go home. My sister’s in-laws —who always welcomed me with open arms to every family gathering since my own family was 3000 miles away —pampered me and waited on me hand and foot that year. Nik was born via emergency C section the following Tuesday afternoon following a scary non-stress test (you gotta love the oxymoron name of that one, huh?!). My husband was somewhere under the San Francisco Bay —on his way to a conference in the same town where I sat alone and terrified in a hospital labor and delivery ward waiting to find out whether our child would make it long enough to be delivered.

Nik was in rough shape with no amniotic fluid to cushion him, the umbilical cord was wrapped a couple of times around his tiny fragile neck, and he was in a breech presentation. Try as they might, the OB and perinatologist couldn’t get Nik to respond to any stimuli. His body was shutting down and his heartbeat was irregular. Time was slipping away and attempting to take my child with it.
Niksdad made it with some few minutes to spare. Nik followed soon after.

I don’t’ remember much of the delivery, except the feeling of my insides being stuffed back in before they stitched me up. Niksdad had left my side to be with Nik. He was the only one of us who saw our son’s face unencumbered by breathing apparatus for weeks. Niksdad’s strongest memory of the moments after the delivery is of touching Nik’s hand and feeling Nik’s miniature grip around the tip of his index finger. “I’m here, Daddy. Don’t go away.”

Yet here we are four years later with our strapping boy. He has so many challenges and he fights like a hero every single day. I know I should be reveling in that spirit. And most days I do but, for some reason, these days approaching Nik’s birthday are always a roller coaster of emotions for me —and for Niksdad though he doesn’t show it quite as obviously as I do. There never seems to be an end in sight, a soft place to land to catch our collective breath.

I am sure some of this feels more intense this year because of the episodic pain that Nik has been having and our anxiety about finding a cause —and putting an end to Nik’s pain. Then, too, there is the fear and uncertainty of what lies ahead for Nik in terms of his overall development. We refuse to accept that Nik will not progress beyond where he is now in terms of his ability to communicate his wants and needs. With each passing day I see Nik become so much more engaged in his environment, so much more interested in socializing with familiar people like his grandparents and his therapists. Yet we also see so many times where Nik is simply not present at all; he has retreated into a place where we cannot reach him. There seems to be no middle ground, no place where we can see a continuum of progress unfolding.

We feel lost as to what to do for Nik. We pulled him out of school because we knew it was too overwhelming for him. Yet he needs something more than I am able to give him by myself. There is such a dearth of resources in our state unless your child is in the school system. It feels so damnably unfair that I have to put my child in a situation that I know is not good for him in order to gain access to certain services. And it breaks my heart that our financial situation is what it is right now and that we are not in a position to be able to pour dollars into additional therapy for Nik; he responds so well when he gets it.

Maybe that is the emotional parallel that I am feeling right now —the uncertainty, the fear of whether my child will be alright, and the worry that I am not up to the task. It definitely feels the same as it did four years ago; that’s a feeling I haven’t had for a very, very long time. I know that I cannot see into the future and I’m not certain I really would want to know anyway. But I seem to have lost my sense of being grounded recently and I don’t know what to do to get it back.

I need guidance, practical guidance, to find resources I can use to help my child. Things that I can do right here, right now —at home —that aren’t going to cost me an arm and a leg. Things that will give Nik some good sensory input and help him regulate himself enough to stay present more than spurts and moments in a day so he can learn the things he needs to learn. To communicate when he’s had enough and needs a break, when he’s hungry, when he’s bored and wants my company —and so much more.

Read Full Post »

Ok, so I’m over here dancing in the rain and all and the next thing I know –kersploosh! Down I go again! This time, I think I fell into that rabbit hole Kristen mentioned here.

On the road of my life, it sure feels like there are a butt-load of hairpin turns lately. Um the ear thing…still a mystery. I pegged it right about the ENT. So could someone puhleeeeze tell me why my child is still running a fever, still not sleeping through the night, still can’t make it through the day without a 2-3 hour nap (no, the nap is not keeping him from falling asleep; he wakes in the midle of the night screaming in pain), and why the lymph glands behind each of his ears are now swollen…yet he has no ear infection???

Oh, and the blood work…one word. Traumatic. And did I mention the failed hearing test IN SPITE OF NO EAR INFECTION?? (Sorry, I just felt like yelling.) Yup. So now we have to do another sedated auditory brainstem response. Wonderful.

In other happy news, just when I think I’ve made progress with the trusting my decision about cutting school out of the picture entirely, I get phone calls from the insurance company telling me that they aren’t authorizing any more services after the end of the month –at least until we get the legal issues worked out. GAH!!!!!!!!!!

Panic. Overwhelm. Self-Doubt. Anger. Resentment.
Man, I really needed to get to the gym today but couldn’t because of Niksdad’s final exam and Nik’s fever.

Must.breathe.
**************************************************************
So, had I actually had the time to post early this morning (hey, I wrote one but had to scoot out the door for an early OT/PT session for Nik), you would have read this:

Storm clouds burst open last nightand swept away the oppressive heat, the suffocating fears.
Today feels fresh, clean, crisp and new;
The world is the same yet the view is altered.

Autumn temps leave me feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, renewed–
hopeful and excited as a child on the first day of school in my youth.
I wonder, “What will the year bring for me? For us?”
There is a world of new knowledge to be gained, old friends to spend time with;
the comforts of warm blankets on cold nights, hot tea with honey, the breeze ruffling my hair as I walk, leaves crinkling under foot.

The world is changing yet the same. This I can count on.

No longer the feeling of the hot pavement beneath bare feet; the burning sensation which causes me to run and skitter awkwardly just to get over it as quickly as possible.

The autumn coolness invites me to linger and take my time;
to explore and appreciate all the nuances of nature as I watch the earth shed it’s summer skin.

Instead, you get yet another dose of my incessant frustration, my despairing rants. Sorry, this is how the day went… “not with a bang but a whimper.” (With abject apologies to T.S. Eliot.)

Read Full Post »

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless, like you’ve lost your fight…

Rascal Flatts

It’s been a rough go lately. Between Nik’s lingering non-specific illness, sleepless nights, Niksdad’s demanding nursing school and clinical practicum schedule, and the specter of school not yet completely eradicated, I can honestly say that I have indeed felt helpless and like I have lost my fight. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t stop fighting for Nik, for my family, for myself. Well, if I’m completely honest, maybe myself a little —it’s always easier to put myself last when there are big challenges in our life and it feels like something has to give. But I am tired —too tired to stand today. (Forgive the self-indulgence which follows.)

On so many levels Nik is doing great. He’s recovered from our Texasinine dining experience and he’s still the same happy-go-lucky little boy he’s always been. The play and laughter are still present, though the eating anything by mouth still is not. He’s doing so much better now that he’s not in school. Except…

I know I’ve written about it a few times before so forgive me if I repeat myself —I’m too lazy to find the posts to link to. Nik’s been battling this odd “affliction” that no one can seem to identify. The lymph glands behind his right ear are chronically swollen —some days worse than others and some days causing more discomfort than others; the two are not necessarily mutual. Nik also has multiple nights of interrupted sleep from this same “affliction;” he will wake screaming in pain and hitting his head or biting his hand really hard. When this happens he is usually inconsolable. Advil given through his g-tube usually mitigates the worst of the pain after a while and he is able to go back to sleep for, oh, another hour or so. Then it all starts over again.

This behavior is not limited to overnights; it happens sometimes in the middle of a play or therapy session. This morning, Miss M got to witness it firsthand during feeding therapy. I thought she was going to cry because she was so upset for Nik. As quickly as it comes on, sometimes it can go just as quickly.

Throw in the lingering low-grade fever Nik’s been running nearly every day now since mid-September —in conjunction with the upper respiratory gunk, the ear infection, followed by the GI bug. Well, you might imagine that we are all a bit frazzled and concerned. Something is going on but no one seems to be able to tell us what.

Then, there’s the ugly specter of our school experience which isn’t quite over. You see, though we’ve had him home from school since September 17th, we haven’t yet officially removed Nik from school. I guess, technically, they can’t cite us for truancy since he’s not legally required to be in school. Still, the district might be able to argue that we are interfering with their ability to provide Nik’s free, appropriate public education (FAPE). The only reason this might be important is if we need to keep them in the picture after all. Though, one could argue that Nik’s IEP as it stands right now —still missing a speech/language/communication section with any evaluation of present levels of functioning as well as no stated goals and objectives, PT and OT goals which do not presume competence and do not address Nik’s significant sensory needs —could hardly be construed as a promise to deliver FAPE even if Nik were in school seven days a week!

I am still waiting for answers from Legal Aid. Meanwhile, school has scheduled an IEP meeting on the 15th for us to officially remove Nik and to “review the educational services for which Nikolas will no longer have access.” Ordinarily that wouldn’t make me anxious except I know that Medicaid now has a copy of the letter of medical necessity from Nik’s doctor. You know, the one that says he shouldn’t be in school due to his health? Yeah, that one. I am worried that they are going to try to use that as leverage to keep school in the picture and maintain responsibility for providing services. If that happens, we are back at square one as far as IEP’s go.

I can hear the old Clash song in my head, “Should I stay or should I go now? If I stay there will be trouble. If I go it will be double…” ARGH! Why can’t it ever just be a simple, cut and dried situation? And worse, why do I feel like the floor is constantly shifting under my feet?

I need to take some time to write out the pros and cons of each decision but I feel like I don’t have complete information for either case. On one hand, having school involved will mean slugging it out for an appropriate IEP; I already know that will involve due process and, possibly, litigation. Still, it would resolve the issue once and for all —hopefully in favor of increased and more appropriate services and supports for Nik. There are so many unknowns and the process can take so long. It could, possibly take us a year or more to get things sorted out.

On the other hand, if we simply cut school out of the picture, we run the risk that Medicaid won’t or can’t cover what Nik needs. Can we muddle our way through to cobble together some homemade program for Nik? Quite possibly, but it’s daunting and could have some pretty significant gaps in it —especially regarding speech/language/communication.

Why can’t I make a decision and stick with it and trust myself implicitly? Why am I so afraid of making a significant misstep? Why am I feeling so weak right now?

Why are you all so damned far away that I can’t come over and cry on your shoulder or drink tea (or something stronger) in the warmth of your living room or sit in the dappled sunshine in your back yard and recharge? It feels so hard to pick myself up and brush myself off right now but I know I must. But it’s lonely. Very lonely.

Even this doesn’t seem to help me today. Sigh…

Read Full Post »

Day 18 of Nik’s being mildly to moderately ill with…something or other. First it was the upper respiratory gunk that required resuming his nebulizer treatments daily. Then, as the worst of that was clearing up, up popped another ear infection and a round of antibiotics. We were blessed with a whole two days in which Nik had no fever and only a slightly runny nose before yesterday’s, um, explosion of new symptoms. Let’s just say it hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses around here the past 48 hours.

Nik’s worst symptoms are gone now, thank goodness, but he has had this lingering low-grade fever that waxes and wanes; it has been the one constant over the past two and a half weeks. I’m getting a little worried about this one. It seems so early in the season for Nik to be catching every last little bug so, of course, I fear something awful. I’m sure it’s nothing terrible but my mind cannot rest until I know for sure. It plays into all my worst fears about his immune system.

Nik’s been mostly himself lately but he’s been sleeping more –particularly napping longer than he has ever done. Yesterday I had to wake him after three hours; he still slept ten hours overnight! He has been in a cheery, sing-songy mood most of the day; we even went to the park this morning just to get out of the house. We weren’t there for very long when Nik took my hand and walked me to the car. He’s been a little more subdued –meaning he’s not racing back and forth across the room every ten seconds and laughing hysterically. He’s enough “himself” that most people wouldn’t notice anything but NOT enough of his normal self that Niksdad and I are concerned.

We see the pediatrician tomorrow afternoon; I’m sure Nik will have no fever and be perfectly normal as far as they are concerned. Fortunately, I know the doctor doesn’t think we are over reactive hypochondriacs and she usually takes our concerns pretty seriously. Something tells me there’s more blood work in Nik’s near future.

In other news, I had a long conversation with the paralegal from Legal Aid yesterday afternoon. She is going to discuss our issues with the lawyer and determine what our options may be. She indicated that, based on the things I told her (and I didn’t even touch on everything!), it sounds like there’s an awful lot school is doing that is not quite on the up and up. Basically, though, they (Legal Aid) are going to help us find the answer to the question of how we get Nik’s services if we keep him out of school. I should have some concrete answers later this week.

Meanwhile, I got a very formal email from the case manager at school today; she is arranging an IEP meeting for us to “review the educational services for which Nikolas will no longer have access.” I was going to email back that I would let her know of the date and time were convenient for us after I heard back from our legal counsel; but I didn’t want to make her crap in her pants. Sorry, crass of me to say such a thing. The situation with school just makes me so angry. In fact, after talking with the paralegal yesterday I was even angrier when she told me that she really thought we had a potentially strong case if we decided to pursue options with school.

Here are a few lessons learned from yesterday’s conversation with Legal Aid:

NEVER NEVER NEVER sign anything you don’t agree with or that you are told you may not have a copy of the entire document to take with you –no matter what! If they threaten that your child’s prior IEP will not be in effect because it’s expired –they are wrong. You can amend it to state that it shall remain in effect for 30 days (while you work out the new IEP). You can even write that right on the IEP! In fact, you can go through item by item and indicate whether you agree with it or not. Yes, you can write on the IEP –ANYWHERE YOU WANT. They’ll tell you you can’t’; they’re wrong and hoping you won’t know it.

And those standard lines schools usually put in the IEP about “X number of sessions, a minimum of Y minutes, in a group, consultative, or individual setting” –also crap. It violates the intent of IDEA/IDEA 2004 which is that students receive the necessary services in a regular and timely fashion. The way Nik’s school words it leaves too much leeway for them to “consult” with staff as many times as they want and it could all be put toward that “X” amount. According to the paralegal, they are supposed to indicate a specific number and frequency of services in each area –for example “15 individual sessions, a minimum of 15 minutes each, no less than once every month.”

The way Nik’s IEP is written also leaves open the possibility that school could wait until the last month of school and provide services on a daily basis to “make it up.” While this may seem highly unlikely, it could happen; to date, Nik’s school still has no speech therapist to replace the one that left a month ago. The principal refused to provide compensatory speech services for Nik (meaning the district pays for him to go somewhere else until they have someone on staff) based on the argument that once they hire someone they could “make it up.” Definitely not in keeping with the spirit of the law.

And those outside evaluations which indicate your child needs significantly more than school is providing? You aren’t required to request in writing that they be made part of the IEP. Your giving them to the school implies said request. They need to tell you in writing why they aren’t changing the IEP to include the increased services.

Record meetings –and you don’t have to tell them until you show up with a tape recorder. Oh, and the notes the case manager (or whomever) takes during the meeting? You can ask that those be made part of the IEP, too. Uh-huh.

So, if we do have to scrap it out with school –it’s going to be a whole new game!

No matter how things go, though, you know what really chaps my hide? The fact that not one single person at school has bothered to call us to find out what they could do to make things right. The devotion they espoused, the love and concern for Nikolas? All crap. Lip service. What makes me sad for the other kids at school is that the staff doesn’t even have a clue that they are doing something significantly out of integrity with the intent of the laws.

Maybe I have a fever…I’m ranting now. Sigh…

Read Full Post »


Wow, that was some party last night, wasn’t it?
Sorry I ran out of food so early! 😉

Thanks for coming to hold my hand — it means a lot to me. Prayers, hugs, and drinks…all are appreciated! (Mom-NOS, are you hungover today? 😉 )

Nik had a good, solid night’s sleep last night and woke this morning in his usual chirpy, laughing and happy mood. He seems none the worse for wear…except the purple goose egg on his forehead.

We’re still going to be watching over him but I feel much less anxious after a good night’s sleep for all of us. Sleep really is such a balm, isn’t it?

I hope you all made it home safely; I’m afraid I passed out after the post! LOL We’ll have to do it again sometime soon— maybe at someone else’s house? Or better yet, let’s throw a giant party to celebrate all the good stuff. ‘Cause I know there’s plenty more of that coming, too!

Happy Saturday. We’re off to the park later…race you to the swings!

Read Full Post »

Been reading but not commenting tonight…too much energy expended today. I didn’t really want to blog about this tonight; I was going to send an email to one person in particular but thought that it was unfair to put that burden on her shoulders. I know she would willingly carry it, but it didn’t seem fair to ask that of any one. And maybe I really just need some Mama-lovin’ from all my blogging buddies…

Long story short, Nik hit his head pretty badly at school today and had a cluster of “mild” seizures pretty close together. The seizure activity isn’t that unusual —he does have “absence” seizures which are moderately well controlled by meds. But the frequency and characteristics of the seizures this morning were different; usually he just stares and zones out. A few times this morning, he went rigid and trembled a moment or two then zoned out for a bit. I think it really upset one of the para’s; she totally adores Nik and hats to see him go through this. Me, too.

We saw Nik’s pediatrician this afternoon. There’s no sign of any fracture, thank God! She told us to watch Nik closely over the weekend in case there are any changes in seizures or his behavior. If so, it’s the long trek to the hospital (an hour) for CT scans or whatever else they decide he may need. I don’t think it will come to that, but I am not going to say I am not worried.

But you know, I am so sick and tired of worrying about my child every time I turn around; it’s depressing and exhausting. Frankly, it sucks. Yeah, I know, “Get over it, Niksmom; it comes with the territory.” Well, I wanna move sometimes, really! (She whines, stamping her foot for emphasis!)

I suppose the bright side to this is that school is looking much more closely at that one-on-one situation. Maybe now we can get support from the staff and put some pressure on the administration to come through? God that sounds so Pollyanna-ish but I really do need to stay focused on the positive or else I will just get sucked into this swirling vortex of bleakness and despair which hovers so closely over my heart on some days.

So, I’m afraid there’s no cute Nik story to share tonight…just Niksmom having her own personal anxiety-fest. It’s BYOB or whatever else you want. Misery loves company sometimes.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »