Date night gone awry

My high-heeled boots are crumpled up on the bathroom floor.

That's where I left them after tromping around the house in them for two hours, when I finally realized we weren't going out.

I had adorned jeans instead of sweats. I had actually applied makeup, the first in days, and curled hair, which only happens about twice a year. But eventually, I had to admit to myself that we can't leave. Rather, I can't leave.

And I don't mean this to seem as mournful as it sounds. I just really wanted to take Jim away tonight, and not to worry whether Sam needs his Codeine to help alleviate the pain of a major surgery involving an osteotomy, whether that's contributing to his digestive struggles and whether we should just give regular Tylenol, whether he's having spasms after all his muscles have been cut through and whether we should give him Valium, whether he is drinking enough, whether Maya is feeling totally neglected during all of this, whether we should get them out more, get them out less, get them out together, get them out apart.

My brain won't stop, it's always working. And it always has done, but now the stakes are pretty high. And I just can't seem to let up on myself. That's why getting out tonight was ideal. But life sometimes tells you things you don't want to hear.

So finally, when Sam began wailing again around 8:45 p.m., about 30 minutes before our chosen movie was set to begin, I just unzipped my knee-high boots and put on my comfy slippers. Jim and his mom tried to usher me out the door around 9, but somehow I knew.... we hadn't given him the hard stuff, he wasn't going to go to sleep. Sure enough, as they were shoving a coat into my hands, I heard him again. I gave him the Codeine and he went to sleep after I sang a few songs and rocked him. But we had already missed the movie.

Of course, he was hurting too bad to go to sleep. We're trying to do what they said in the hospital, tapering him off the meds. But it's only been a week and a day, and mostly they are adamant that he needs medicine regularly if he's hurting.

Here's the hard bit. He's 2.5 years old, and is used to living with a certain amount of hip and bone pain. He doesn't quite know how to articulate it, and is so fearful of the "yucky" medicine he will often cover up unless he's just in excruciating pain. (I've tasted it. It really is horrible.)

He has always had a certain amount of discomfort or pain in his hips or femurs, even if the doctors don't believe he has. I know my boy really well, and I think he hurts more often than we think. That's what I said a few days ago, but was rebutted with stories of how he was engaged and playing. I think he can play with quite a lot of pain. He is used to pain.

Looking back, I think I was right. He was hurting. But even he didn't know how to express that pain, until it got too big for him to take on. Then he became inconsolable, testy, angry... and then the pain became more difficult for us to control. That is essentially why we are here tonight.

Through all of this Maya has begun Occupational Therapy, and we have tried so hard to give her special time. The two of us had a tea party this morning. Still, I can tell she misses me and her schedule. I miss her too. I miss our schedule, and all the time the three of us usually have together.

It was funny, I was on the phone with my sister-in-law and she had scolded her kids for fighting. I got a funny twinge, totally unexpected. I hate that fighting more than anything, or so I thought, but suddenly I missed that bit of normalcy in all our lives. Not having to wonder if something hurt, if so, what was it? Should I give this medicine, that medicine? Is the other sibling getting her share of my attention? Can my husband and I just go out for a couple hours? Being driven nuts by fighting siblings suddenly sounded welcome! So that means I am clearly unstable, because I hate that fighting so much...

I guess I should pick those boots up and put them back in the closet, because they're kind of making me sad. There will be other date nights.

Overwhelmed ...? Understatement

I'm going to do my best here not to sound as beaten as I feel.

Sam's surgery is a week from Thursday.

We've all got a cough that has lasted for weeks, and I think carrying this cold, or swine flu, or whatever, has taken its toll on me.

I think I will have to take Sam back in to make sure the antibiotics kicked out his double ear infection; he seems to be feeling lousy again. They won't put him under unless he is totally healthy.

Not only that, we all have a ton of appointments before then. I have an EKG (echocardiogram) and an MRI scheduled for tomorrow. The MRI is to look at my head and see if the big fall I took a year ago Christmas Eve is the culprit of these intense stabbing headaches I've been dealing with for the past 13 months.

The EKG is because the doctor heard a heart murmur and said that this can sometimes cause aneurysms. Don't you just love to hear that word at a doctor's appointment? I doubt this is the case. He told me aneurysms can sometimes cause headaches. It was my understanding that aneurisms caused death.

On Thursday, I'm seeing a neurologist and my primary care physician to go over all of this.

On Friday, Maya is going for her MRI and EEG. This is because the Monday before the New Year, Maya came into the kitchen woozy at about 7:30. I was out with Miles, Jim was chopping peppers for me after his dentist appointment. I wasn't out there five minutes when Jim shouted to me that something was very wrong with Maya. I ran in, and found him holding her. She was drooling all over the place, to the point that it was bubbling out of her mouth, and she said she had a headache.

She asked, "Why am I talking funny?" in this thick slurred voice. I thought she might be having an allergic reaction, but couldn't figure out the drool. I looked at her tongue to see if it was swollen; it wasn't. She seemed dazed, but not completely out of it as if she were having a seizure. There was no fever ... just pale skin with some splotches on the right side. The whole right side of her face was drooping as if she'd had Novacaine.

I took her to the ER. I didn't call an ambulance because she seemed to be coming back. I actually let her eat first, probably not smart, but she kept saying she was hungry. She seemed OK. Not quite herself, but pretty good, actually jumping around at one point.

We got there at about 8:30 p.m., and they did a CAT scan and a urine test. I assume the latter was in case we had some terrible drug in the house, and they also mentioned blood pressure medication. But that didn't fit because her blood pressure was fine. They pricked her finger to check her blood sugar, which was fine, and thank God the CAT scan came back clear. I guess the initial concern was a brain tumor or stroke. We got home at nearly 2 a.m.

She was such a little trooper. She picked out a little toy for herself, something they do in the pediatric ER, and then asked if she could find one for Sam. She took her time looking for something he would really like instead of just finding something she wanted.

We got in with this great neurologist, and I patted myself on the back thinking it was my persistence, but quickly learned that Maya's pediatrician is in the same practice with the neurologist's daughter.

I liked him instantly. He was was confident, but not overly so, and he was very connected and great with kids.

I had thought he was leading me toward questions that related to her sensory issues, and began to wonder if there was something there, but he didn't think there was any spectrum behavior at all. I really didn't think so either. I'd had a little scare a while back, but now realize Maya deals with stress by sort of disconnecting. We'd had a bout of that before we moved, but then as soon as we were in the new house, she was back to herself.

The theories now are: It could have either been a seizure, a migraine, a fluke in her neurological wiring that would cause episodes like this one, or just a fluke that will never happen again. I'm really liking that last option.

Last night I had a dream that Sam was going for surgery and I couldn't stop crying. I was scaring him by bawling so much, and I couldn't make it stop. I stopped at a hot dog stand, and cried when the guy at the counter said, "I see your lips moving but I don't hear a sound!" I cried at Trader Joe's today when I saw a mom kiss her baby. I cried when I made the appointment for Maya today and I cried while hanging out with good friends last weekend, though granted that was after having champagne.

For the first time, I really feel like I'm cracking. I really just wish it wasn't so close to when Sam was going for his surgery on the right hip. He needs me to be strong, and I'm just hoping I can do that for him. Maya needs me to be strong, during her tests and during this surgery and recovery too, and Jim is counting on me to be strong. I'm here all day with the kids, I can't check out.

(Fortunately, a couple days later, I'm feeling more myself. Praying it lasts... Also, I don't have an aneurysm. Yay! Time to explore TMJ.)