Posts tagged ‘Children’s Hospital’

The corneal abrasion

My morning began with Mr. Emmett John waking up and refusing to go back to sleep at 4AM. Finally, at 6:30-7AM, when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I handed Emmett John over to Rob and went back to bed. Yeah, that was short lived.

When 8AM rolled around all too quickly Elliott Richard woke me up saying that Gavin had “poked himself in the eye”. I couldn’t hear the screaming yet and also couldn’t figure out why Rob needed me to help with this slight injury.

Turns out Gavin and Elliott Richard were playing in the Play Room and Gavin went digging through the Toy Box. Somehow in his enthusiasm he didn’t notice the piece of plastic race track sticking out of the Toy Box.

In he dove.

The track raced up to meet him, square in his right eye.

And the screaming, flailing and blind (literally) swinging punches began.

When I got downstairs Gavin was on the stairs to try and limit his ability to harm himself or others with his blind flailing and swinging. He had also rubbed his eye to the point of making his whole eyelid pink and extremely swollen. Every time we tried to get his eye open to survey the damage, it triggered another round of screaming, flailing and blind swinging. Not to mention, although clearly I am, the high-pitched, ear-splitting, migraine inducing (seriously, he gave me a migraine that I can’t get rid of) screeching. When he finally allowed me to look at his eye it appeared to me that he had a long corneal abrasion/scratch. It looked nasty. That was the point we decided to go to the Children’s Hospital over waiting to see Dr. H tomorrow.

So I woke my sister up at 8-ish AM on the 4th of July to ask beg her to go with me since it was very likely that restraint in some form was going to be necessary. Plus, with Grandma and Pa-Pa G in Michigan for a wedding someone had to sit with the Boys. So Trisha went with me because she is far more entertaining than Rob in these situations. 😉

The ER at the Children’s Hospital got us back right away and they were really kind to Gavin right off the bat. We had a bit of a wait once in the room because there was a little kid with some pretty serious injuries that needed to be tended to. And Gavin screamed and screeched nearly the whole time!

Then there were moments when the drama was about knee deep or more. I don’t say that to be mean but I about died when he threw his hand out with his snotty tissue between his fingers like it was toxic and said, “Can someone please throw this away for me because I can’t see?” Of course, he failed to notice that he couldn’t see because his eyes were squeezed shut about as tight as possible. (lol)

Once the doctor came in, the screaming and screeching increased but we also got some answers and treatment. So it was a pretty even trade-off. He peeked at Gavin’s eye and said he could see the abrasion with his naked eye. He also said if you can see a corneal abrasion with your naked eye, it’s pretty bad! Then he numbed up Gavin’s eye, put in some dye so he could see the full extent of the abrasion and some other eye drops which he said were like Neosporin for his eye.

Gavin's corneal abrasion

When he put the dye in and used his pocket black light to look at his eye and see the extent of the damage – how large and deep – he allowed Trisha and I too see. It’s big! Even the doctor said it was pretty big. It’s about the size and almost the shape of an eraser at the end of a pencil (in real life, not the size of that one on the left lol).

Gavin was discharged with eye drops and a prescription for Tylenol 3 for the pain. The doctor said that regular Tylenol would help but for an abrasion as bad as Gavin’s he would recommend the Tylenol 3. So, Tylenol 3 it is.

Once he was discharged we made it for home. Now that Gavin has had his medications, he’s been asleep since just after we got home. Unfortunately, Gavin’s screaming and screeching gave me a horrible migraine but Emmett John’s screaming and screeching keep feeding it. And I don’t get to go back to bed, which is incredibly unfair if you ask me. 😉

Don’t rock my boat

Seriously, don’t. I’ve got enough going on in my life at the moment.

Gavin’s meds aren’t working, which you know if you still read Rob’s blog. I think you do. Dr. R wants to switch him to Lithium. I don’t want to go to Lithium. I don’t see where we have a choice.

We have Help Me Grow coming on Monday to do their unofficial evaluation of Emmett John. This is where they tell us if he is Autistic or not. I feel like I could grab the lady who works in the local day care. After all, she works with kids all days too. That doesn’t mean she is educated or should be evaluating children for Autism. Yet, the Children’s Hospital is waiting for Help Me Grow’s eval to help decide if they will evaluate Emmett John. You know, my 22 month old who still doesn’t speak.

Emmett John still doesn’t speak. He’s still angry. Developmentally he’s in two groups – he’s either right where he should be or he’s stuck some where between 9 to 12 months. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t point. I can’t figure out how this happened.

Elliott Richard is stuck in the middle. He stands to lose his childhood – either protecting himself from Gavin or protecting Emmett John from Gavin. Or there are the rare times that he plays big brother to Gavin. He’s 4 years old and if we don’t fight for it, he may never get to be a kid. His childhood may become a casualty of war.

My migraines are worse. I’m reaching the limit on my Topamax. It isn’t working anyway, so what does it matter? Dr. J has increased my pain meds and added an anti-inflammatory that I can’t pronounce, which I should only take when I can’t take it anymore. He’s ordered bloodwork and an MRI. I should take my new meds but I don’t. I scared. I don’t want to end up like House – addicted and crazy, seeing people who aren’t there. I just don’t want to end up crazy. I’m all full up on crazy. I’ve had enough of my life being filled up with everyone else’s crazy.

Rob and I are fighting. Not over anything. Just over everything. Big. Little. Everything. Nothing at all. We’re stressed. Over-whelmed. Taking it out on the only safe place we have. Each other.

We’re all surviving. Just barely. Bobbing along in a little lifeboat. Some days the waters are calm and survival is easier. Other days, it sucks. I’m not gonna lie. The boat rocks. we take on more water than we can bail out. There are days our little boat nearly capsizes altogether, but for the grace of God. I don’t  know how we survive at all sometimes.

We have so much going on. Too much going on. Too much in our tiny little lifeboat. Don’t rock it. Things happen. We may not like them. We may not understand them. They may suck in a major way. Believe me when I say I know this. But don’t rock the damn boat. Maybe the things that we do…the decisions that we make…are for the best interests of everyone…perhaps they are based upon things not everyone knows about…maybe my last act, my last decision was made out of love.

I’m just tired. Life is so precarious in our tiny little boat. We work so hard for our tiny bits of stability. Now we have…this. This drama. This wondering. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. Keep it to yourself.

Don’t. Rock. My. Boat.

How many times must I mourn?!

I keep trying to get this blog exactly right. Just perfect – the way I want it. I’ve decided that it’s going to take me close to forever to get that accomplished and if I keep putting off my first official post until then…well, you may never hear from me again. (lol)

Emmett John had his ABR sedation hearing test yesterday. We’ve been waiting for this test for months. He had his basic OEA hearing test in January and the Audiologist couldn’t officially diagnose him but she said she felt comfortable saying that he had “moderate to severe hearing loss”. Meaning he was very close to being profoundly deaf. I was so sure he was deaf. I was ready for him to be deaf. I was ready to learn sign language.

Honestly, with the Hell that we live through every single day with Gavin and his Autism and Bi-Polar and whatnot. The Hell I endured at the hands of NTD and his mother before I met Rob. Then the continued Hell we suffered because of them after Rob and I were together – all throughout my divorce and custody battle. The various moments of Hell throughout my childhood. Surely, God wouldn’t do this…not again. Surely, he watched and he understood. Surely, he knows and understands that we can’t handle another Autistic child.

Oh forget the we*I* cannot handle another Autistic child…at least not right now. I just can’t. Not with Gavin manic the way he is. Not with Gavin hearing voices again. Starting puberty and having medication changes because we are on the “medication roller coaster” again. Not with Gavin having meltdowns of a caliber unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him before. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks his window or seriously injures himself.

Emmett John’s hearing is perfect. Everything we say…every sound…every everything he hears physically. But developmentally, he doesn’t hear most things. Apparently, this is common in Autistic children. I didn’t know this. He doesn’t make good eye contact – I thought he did. He throws these fits – I thought they were normal 21 month old fits…the Terrorist 2’s…now, not so much. So he can hear us but doesn’t talk. He babbles – like a 9-12 month old. I have no idea if he’ll ever actually talk. Does that mean he’s more likely Full-fledged Non-Verbal Autistic? Or could he still be some sort of High Functioning Asperger’s?

This will probably sound crazy and stupid to many of you. But how many times must I mourn the loss of my baby?!

How many?! He stopped responding to us. So obviously he couldn’t hear us. Right? So we schedule and take him for his OEA hearing test and he fails. The Audiologist says she feels he has moderate – severe hearing loss. I mourn the loss of my baby boy. I mourn the fact that I likely will never hear his voice the way it was intended. I mourn everything that he will never do. Never experience. I mourn every time he shoves a finger in his ear and gets frustrated because he appears to be unable to hear. I mourn because I don’t know when the last time he heard our voices was. Will he be able to remember them? How long can he hold on to those memories? I mourned many things when I believed Emmett John was deaf.

Yesterday all of that was Gone. Swept away in a moment. I had an Audiologist telling me that my baby could hear. Explaining that his “hearing was perfect” and he “doesn’t make good eye contact” and “hearing problems are common in Autistic children“. Now all of my work to recover and work on my mourning over his hearing loss had disappeared in a flash. The sedation nurse was so positive about the fact that Emmett John could hear – isn’t this great? Of course it’s great. It’s wonderful and I’ll do cartwheels – as soon as I mourn, again.

So here I am. Mourning my Baby Boy, again. Mourning for him. Mourning for us. This isn’t a life I would have chosen for him. This isn’t something I would have chosen to add to our lives – ever.

I’m mourning the loss of Emmett John in a host of new ways. I’ll recover in a few days. Until then, I’m just going to mourn and work on trying to make my peace with things.