Harder than I thought...

I had this dream the other morning. I was in a body cast.

I was not my size, I was small like Ewan, but I wasn’t Ewan, I was me.

I was face-down on my little bed, and that sent the pressure through my joints and compounded the pain and stiffness after hours of sleep....

My hip joints were so sore from being bent and turned outwards, in a squat position, for weeks, that even though I was completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than sleep, I had to cry out in pain.

At that second, Ewan cried out, and I heard it through the monitor we had set in our room after his surgery, even though I had been in this huge deep sleep.

It was dark outside; I wasn’t sure if it was the middle of the night or morning. But I muttered to Dave: “He’s sore. His cast hurts.”

Lately he says he doesn’t want to go to sleep. His naps are shorter, and he wakes up increasingly early. I think that’s because his joints hurt.

I felt how it feels, I think, and if I’m right, it HURTS.

I can’t forget that stiffness in my dream, it was so consuming, it was so painful. I know it didn’t bother him before because he was in so much pain from the surgery, and then so relieved he didn’t hurt, that it wasn’t so bad. But now we’re on week three ... if I was stuck in a squat position for three weeks, I would hurt more too.

I swear that I dreamed this pain. I swear I know exactly how this felt.

I’m starting to hurt in my own right. I have bruises all around both hips, bruises on my forearms, and my arms and shoulders burn from hoisting him in his body cast and wheelchair.

At one point tonight, Iliana wanted me to pick her up while I was holding him too

Daddy was out with an old friend in Boston, so I had no choice. I told her to stand up on her little chair, and while I balanced Ewan in my right (and stronger) arm, I scooped her up with my left.

I was astounded that my 4.5-year-old, who once felt so heavy, was so feathery in my weaker arm.

I was on a phone call for work today, and Ewan was shouting that only Mommy could bring him his cheesy popcorn. I tried to ignore him while I typed as fast as my source spoke (and I really type fast, but this guy speaks crazy fast) but I had to go to him, because he only wanted me to bring him popcorn.

I had the phone cradled, was pouring popcorn into Ewan’s bowl, and was asking my source to repeat himself as he quoted export statistics.

But I got the interview, even if I did have to ask the president and CEO of a renowned boat company to repeat every comment with a number to ensure I had it straight.

This morning, my mother-in-law and I took Ewan into Iliana’s classroom, actually getting the wheelchair out to stroll him in so he could see some kids.

This isn’t as easy at it sounds. The wheelchair needs to be adjusted just so in the back of my RAV so it doesn’t bash around, threatening to shatter the back windshield or bash one of my kids’ heads in. This takes about 20 minutes each time, and a lot of brawn. This thing must weigh 50 pounds. I actually think it weighs more than that.

Then we went to Trader Joe’s, and got him out and I strolled him around while Chris wheeled the cart. Then I was going to just zip into Target myself while those guys stayed in the car, but Ewan wanted to go. I agreed, and we found handicapped parking again while I adjusted and put together the 100-pound wheelchair, all in an effort to get some ladies’ sweat shorts in extra small that would go over Ewan’s cast and work as makeshift pants.

I’d gotten him those before and they worked well; finding a drawstring waist to fit over 19 inches isn’t easy when your legs are less than a foot long. These had worked OK, if I cinched them tightly. But, when I went to buy more last week, I figured if I got smalls maybe I could wear them later. So I did, but the small size just swallowed him and didn’t work at all, so I had to go buy more.

Getting back into the car, I had tried to wedge the wheel chair over the groceries, which was pretty stupid and meant I just had to take everything out and start all over again. I had already had to pull over twice though, to rearrange the chair so it wasn't banging, and didn't want to do it again.

In the meantime, I changed Ewan’s diaper five times.

What that means is, I pulled his size 6 diaper off the front of his cast, and peered inside. I peel his others from inside his spica cast, where they’ve been tucked.

I extract those, and if there’s any moisture, I take a cool hair dryer and dry between his cast and his skin. Dave has been great about this too. Apparently we’re doing a phenomenal job on keeping his skin healthy, almost everyone is surprised that there’s no “skin breakdown.”

Then I tape an overnight maxipad to a small-sized diaper, and tuck it into his cast opening. I cover it all with the biggest diaper there is, taping over the cast.

This seemed really daunting at first, but it’s really not. It’s just that since Dave has been gone a lot lately, I’m the only one who can do it. And when there is poop, I have to make sure if it goes up into the cast, I carefully and meticulously clean it all out, and then blow dry again.

I might sound like it, but I’m not complaining about this. I just have no time for anything, at all, particularly the really necessary things like sending thank you cards for all the generous gifts, or sending email updates or writing blogs. Trust me when I say I’ve only given a glimpse into today, just the tip of the iceberg.

Things are going really well, but it is all-consuming.