Sunday, July 22, 2018

New Experience??

Forgive me, it's taken a while to write about this.  Mostly because it puts me in a not-so-good light.  Frankly, I screwed up.  Fortunately, I learned and there's no permanent damage.

Let me begin with a different story: 

Just over 25 years ago, I had a beautiful three-month-old daughter.  William and I also had a 17 month old and were both taken 18 credits at the time.  It was crazy, and I really don't remember a lot of that semester.  But this I remember, crystal clear. 

It was Saturday afternoon, I was sitting on my bed, finally giving up on studying because neither little girl seemed to think it was important.  I figured we'd play, it was more fun anyway.  So I grabbed Deborah's nose and said, "nose!"  She  laughed and we did it to Mary.  "Hands!" "Ears!" "Eyes!" (point gently, don't grab!)  So much fun with my littles.  And then we did "Toes!"  "Deborah's toes, Mary's toes!" And Mary screamed in pain.  What?? 

She'd been really fussy for a couple days, more in the little carrier I wore her in during class than lying down.  But whatever.  Babies do that, right?  But I had bailed on class the day before because instead of sleeping all day, she had fussed and cried and I couldn't stay in the room and disturb lectures. 

I whipped off her little sock, and was horrified.  There, wrapped so incredibly tightly around three of her tiny toes was a hair.  It was cutting into the skin, carving into her flesh.  I ran next door to my neighbor who had her RN.  She took one look at them and told me I had to take her in, it was much too severe for her to do anything.

When I got to the doctor's, they assembled a team and I held my tiny child while they worked meticulously to remove every piece of the hair that had embedded itself into her.  Held her as she screamed because they didn't dare use any anesthesia as that would cause even more swelling and more damage. 

I came home and called my mom (isn't that what we all do?) and cried.  She told me something similar had happened to one of my sisters as an infant, and asked what Mary was doing.  Sleeping soundly.  She told me Mary had already forgotten, but I never would.  And I haven't.

So what does that have to do with last Sunday?  Well....

We were almost ready for church.  You know that big scurry right at the end, trying to get out of the door?  I was finishing getting Aaron ready.  Just a couple more things, and I realized I needed something from his dresser.  It's only about six feet away.  He's not (very) mobile.  He was a long ways from the edge.  I'd grab it quick, like I've done a million times!  And I did.  But he was faster.

I still don't know how he did it.  And my husband and boys aren't sure if they heard my scream or the thud first.

But somehow, my little man ended up on the floor, disconnecting his vent circuit on the way down, but thankfully not pulling his trach out.

I was sick, absolutely sick, and shaking, and in shock!  Shouts of "What happened? Is everything okay?"  "NO!  It's not!!"

I bent over Aaron and he seemed stunned, not moving.  I started trying to assess him, he moved.  Good.  We got him back up in his bed, his eyes so big and round.  His little lower lip quivered, and I was trying hard not to cry.

And then he laughed.  He laughed!!

Oh boy....  I watched him so close, so very close for the rest of the day, and the next few days, too.  He was fine, except one thing.

You know how my mom told me Mary had already forgotten?  Um, he hasn't.

And apparently, he thought the whole thing was an awesome adventure, a thrilling adrenaline rush.  He's been trying to do it again and again since that moment.  This kid....

Man, I sure love him, but he's going to be the death of me.  

July has been a busy month, and I really need to update everything, but I'm also trying to process it all.  Stuff for a future post, okay? 

A child is a curly dimpled lunatic. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sunday, July 1, 2018

A Tale of Two Nights

This monkey, seriously!

Let me paint you a picture:

Wednesday night, I have no nurse. (Different story, don't ask, bleh.) I try to wear him out. He's got school and I have an appointment in Salt Lake. But I also walk a bit of a tight rope. He's got allergies going, it's hot, and if he gets too tired seizures show up. So when we get home about 4 or so, I figure he needs a short nap. 

Except "short" is not what he has in mind. He's beat. I try to wake him for his shake vest and food, and he's really not interested. He's not scary, just tired. 

Well, okay. There are times when he's exhausted that he just sleeps, pretty much the whole night. So maybe...

10 o'clock, he's still sleeping and I lie down on a mattress in his room with alarms set for 2 and 5:30 am. 10:45 an adult kid calls needing some time, so we talk. Aaron still sleeps. This might work!

Until 11:30. Bing! Bright eyes! Um, really?  And the party begins. 

And continues the rest of the night. 

I guess I should be grateful he didn't start throwing toys at me until 5.

And Thursday and Friday nights? Nights that I had a nurse? Pretty much slept from 9:30 until 8. 

Little punk. 

I have no nurse the next two Wednesdays, plus family activities all day on the 4th and Andrew's Eagle Scout project all day at the hospital on Thursday. 

Life is never dull with this kid.  I guess I really wouldn’t want it to be.

In other news, he had his birthday, and we marked eight years since we brought him home from the NICU.

 He also got to go to Hogwarts and was sorted into Griffindor (of course! house of the bravest).

He’s had a bit of a tummy ache the last few days, so today he’s staying home from church with Daddy.  But through it all, the smiles continue.  

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep. 
~Ralph Waldo Emerson