"We live on borrowed time. Let's celebrate and sing, as we walk bravely into the unknown....."
Monday, March 5, 2012
Confessions of a "chronic" Mom
Adam has a little bit of a head cold right now. It's really not much of anything but a clear drippy nose and a little bit of sneezing, and he's eating like a horse....so I'm not too concerned. It's interesting to me now though, since I'm dealing with more "regular kid" situations than medical issues, to reflect on how life as a "chronic kid" mom has warped my otherwise rational mind. (Don't judge that rational mind comment....leave me to my delusions!)
Steaming away the stuffy nose
One thing I have learned from being Adam's mom is that I am extremely cool under pressure of the medical variety. I have done emergency trach changes in the car, been covered in blood, trach secretions, and stomach acid, watched a reintubation, seen my child with a heart rate of 40 and oxygen sats so low they stopped reading, and signed surgical consents like it was my job. I can tell you if my son is tachypnic, tachycardic, cyanotic, retracting, whether his lungs sound clear bilaterally, and if his cap refill is good. I can piss off an entire medical team in less time than it takes me to shower, and BRING IT insurance companies and pharmacies. I will eat your livers with some....you know the rest. If it's go time....I'm going. You would think then, that the normal bumps, bruises, and germies of childhood would be no big deal. You would be incorrect.
Once upon a time, (just about a year ago) I was pushing Adam in the swing in our backyard. We were out there for a long time...swinging, winding and then unwinding the chains, seeing how high we could go....all those fun swing related things. When Adam was finally ready to get out of the swing, I stood him on the ground and he promptly fell over. I stood him up again, and he fell over again. The third time I stood him up, he took three steps and then fell over. And then I flipped out. I scooped him up and ran upstairs to his room. I put him on his pulse ox....I listened to his lungs.....I shined a light in his eyes to see if his pupils dilated properly. My mind was racing with thoughts of all the neurologically horrifying reasons that my perfectly mobile child suddenly couldn't stand up and walk. And then I noticed him point to his tummy and sign "funny". I'm sorry....what?! Your tummy feels funny?! You mean to tell me that instead of having a stroke you're having motion sickness from being swung and twisted for the past hour?! You're just DIZZY??!! I started to do that hysterical laugh/cry thing....you know that thing....fear, mixed with relief, tinged with the unavoidable reality that you're just a wee bit bonkers. Adam held still for about 5 minutes, and then signed "play trucks, bye" and wandered off to find his toys. And there I sat, adrift once again in the realization that motherhood, for me, is a whole different kind of party.