Tuesday, May 3, 2016

May Day, Mayday, and Such

Things are moving.  Because, that is life and stuff.  We are (hopefully) through "Sick Season".  The very last of it has been vicious.  Like it resulted in making changes in life and plans.

We went on a Disney cruise for Spring Break.  It was kind of because it was our last secure Hoorah, with Gabriel graduating this May.  Perhaps he will be back...perhaps he will be trying out adulthood...who knows?  But it was also because we have limited options with Elise.  With her hurting and being unable to walk much, we either have to use a wheelchair or we have to find vacations that don't count on walking...at all, if possible.  If we use a wheelchair, she doesn't want to get out afterwards...usually at all...which leads to all manner of other things.

The one fun thing that gave a significant amount of hope that came out of the cruise was a tandem kayak rental.  It seems that Elise adores boats.  Of all kinds.  She wants to kayak alone, but is about as safe doing that alone as driving a car.  So, I have been pursuing options.  The fun thing to discover, is that she will happily ride and paddle a tandem.  She only almost beaned me in the head with a paddle a couple of times.  And was actually helpful moving the boat forward.  If she was without a paddle, she whined that she wanted one, but I could manoever us quite well alone.  SO.  It gave me hope that my fun place can actually be enjoyed by her for as long as she ends up being with me.  We can go together.  And she will enjoy it.  PLUS it is cheater exercise.  It actually is, in the meanwhile it is fun...and she sleeps hard after!

Speaking of unexplainable pain: 

We are now seeing a pediatric rheumatologist.  So far, I have been blown off by her and her nurses.  And disrespected by her blood work staff.  We got no real answers from the blood work and the x-rays.  And the only thing it secured us, was a recommendation for Vitamin D (significant deficiency) and an Aleve.  We have an MRI scheduled for this Friday.  I admit, that I am not holding out much hope.  I figure that they will find nothing after a morning of NPO.  NPO is pretty much a recipe for a day of disaster.  NPO is medical shorthand for no food by mouth...for x amount of time.  After which time they will sedate her and she will wake hungry, with a headache, and usually nauseated.  Which is super fun.

I would appreciate prayers for sanity and at least direction, if not answers, from the MRI.

While I am requesting prayers, I am really, really worried about how Elise will handle Gabriel's graduation and going to college.  I am already dreading it for me.  Losing my evening buddy will be hard.  BUT Elise gets weepy and weird just thinking about this.  She is already anticipating and was worried that he had moved out last week when he had only gone on a band competition trip.  He is one of her Most Important People and that transition is going to be huge.

I am currently trying to figure out how to sort meeting her social needs.  She needs friends to hang with.  Like *NEEDS*.  Not just at school.  So if you are a friend, you can expect phone calls this summer.  And we will limp through this whole teenager thing together.  And hopefully if I can iron that out, it will make this fall less hard.

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Why Should You End The Word: The Historical Picture

I typically post the End the Word Day post on 3/21, as it is National Down Syndrome Day.  Today, I have a bigger post, my brain took off and got grandiose.

Last year, I decided that the heart of the disparaging use of the word "Retarded" was less the word choice.  (You know, find an unoffensive word to call someone...there are many synonyms and all that.)  And I boiled it down to this:

"If you can't use the "R" word, why do you need another word to cut and hurt?  Why do you need to find another disparaging word?  Why can't you walk away?  Why can't you use nice words with your friends?  Why do you need to tear your own worth down because of a silly mistake?

Look for the good.  Understand choices come from others' pasts.  Understand that you are human, and move forward.

If you can't say something nice, DON'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL."

I believe the most "popular war" was that of World War II.  It was possibly the only war in the history of time that had a clear cut bad guy doing bad things that was clearly defeated.  There are BUCKETS of documentaries on it, movies, and books on it, because of that fact.

The  WWII concentration camps were used to confine "dangerous" political adversaries first.  Hitler was doing it to protect those in power, and the superior groups under the guise of protecting the country from groups who would damage their country.

Then, they decided to weed out the sick to strengthen the general population and keep them "safe".  There were euthanasia plans, panels, and those who carried them out.  Then there were horrific experiments performed on them.

And all of these things were allowed by the rest of the population.  No one said anything.  Because it didn't apply to them. 

It was a slow devaluation of certain lives...that quietly expanded...in both the groups targeted and the violence that was heaped onto the groups in isolation.  The sick became the physically disabled, the mentally disabled, the Romany, the Jews...anyone without voices...anyone without support...even those who would protect and support those that were having these despicable acts done to them.

The most horrifying dart of information that I got as a parent of a child with disabilities was the knowledge that the first group of people to be categorized, tortured, and murdered in the death camps were people with disabilities.  They were first line.  They are the unmourned of World War II.

If the entire population had banded together and said "NO.  No one deserves this." at that first time, at the first wave, I don't think the camps could have gathered the momentum he did.

Now.  I am not conspiracy theorizing here.  I am not saying that we are prepping for the next crazed tyrant.  I am really not.  I am saying that this level of disrespect of others is the beginning of that first wave.

And I ask you to ask yourself, what is that first ripple of that first wave?  Believing yourself to be better than your neighbor.  To scorn your brother.  To believe you must be superior to be valued. 

You are nothing without compassion.  You are nothing without love.  You are nothing without your brother.

End the use of the word "retarded".  End the belief that living life more slowly is bad. End believing that you must be superior from your neighbor to have worth.  Love those that show life is a full spectrum of abilities and histories.  Be the voices for those who have none by LISTENING TO THEM.  Learn the beauties of life that they offer.  Feel the struggles and triumphs that they have experienced.  Learn and grow and love.  You will be the better for it.

And in these political days, I highly suggest that you look for that respect in your next president, as well.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Itty Bitty Living Space

Today I went on a bit of a rant on Facebook.  I'd like the chance to explain myself a little bit.  Give some perspective.

My Facebook post:
"I don't particularly love having to pick up my kid in the handicapped pick up in the back parking lot because it means my kid is not ABLE to sit like yours and wait without being unsafe. But I do know that when I was forced to pick up in the regular carline, I got hands flailed at me, cussed at, and flipped off for taking so long.

Imagine my irritation at getting flipped off, cussed, and flailed at for trying to save you time by picking my kid up in the handicapped area.

DON'T be a TURD. Or I'll take pleasure at gumming up carline.

You'll mess only your own nest."

I get the big arm flail...you know the one...the one that asks WHAT ARE YOU DOING? with exasperation...about once a day in carline.  I get flipped off about once a week.  Today was a first time event this year, where not one, but two cars cut me off and blocked me from going down the other lane to avoid the carline, so I could go around back to get Elise.  I am not sure what they thought they were proving by doing this, especially as the principal goes around back and makes sure you are supposed to be there if there is too much traffic in the back.

Here's the thing.  I don't feel that IT'S MY RIGHT to get special treatment.  I prefer for my child to get help to remain safe and for us to be able to take our time without duress at every transition.  Especially as it is truly her body (and sometimes mind) that requires more time to plan movements as she gets in and out of the car.  But I don't WANT to block everyone else as my life moves in slow motion.  My life always moves in some kind of time subset from everyone else, I am used to it.  I cannot plan what will make a day go sideways, though, and if that happens, it's going to get weird fast. 

As a matter of fact, a friend posted up a comedian talking about his son with autism.  He said something along the lines that he never knew "how to describe taking care of a child with autism....  But during a festival, it all became very clear.  It's like taking care of your very best friend, after they have done waaaay too many shrooms.  While you yourself are on a moderate amount of shrooms."

Now, Elise has not been diagnosed with autism, but she does have a lot of personal similarities.  And I have, on more than one occasion, likened my life to Alice in Wonderland.  Things get keep getting weirder and weirder...and you know it's weird, but everyone that you are dealing with makes YOU feel like you are the weird one in the situation.  You are forced to change yourself and your expectations so many times, that you find yourself just as crazy as everything else appeared to be.  (And, for the record, I also said, all through high school and college that I absolutely thought Lewis Carroll wrote it while high.  You know the drill, right?  He thought he was being suuuper deep, and was smart enough that he managed to tie all the crazy to actual happenstance, political or otherwise, but it was still completely wacked out.  Yuh.  That.  You've all seen that guy once, right??)

EEEEnyways, back to my story, I am truly doing you a favor not to tie you into my brand of crazy.  So if you don't have a child with special needs, you may think that I am getting these absurd special privileges.  But let me explain this to you in a nice, tidy little nutshell. 

You know the scene in Aladdin where he tricks Jafar into wishing to become a genie?  Because Genie explained to him the paradox?  (https://youtu.be/SfTfXLLJlzM)

Well, the allowances may appear to be
"Phenomenal cosmic powers!!!!"

But to us, as special needs parents, it's really just allowance to get tied up into our
"Itty Bitty Living Space", where our child feels and IS safe.
So, do us a favor, and be patient.  Please assume that things are more complicated than they appear on the surface, because they usually are.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Open Letter to My Daughter's Support System

Tis the season where you shop for your family and your kids' friends and your kids' teachers....and so on and so forth.

I will, without a doubt, post again about the holidays, but today's shout goes out to the host of people that brings me zipped coats and intelligible words.

I have to buy gifts for the people who I live with.  I have to buy for family members who are hard to buy for.  I have to buy for people who expect presents, but are not happy with anything.  I get to buy for people who are easy, and I get to buy for people who are excited for anything...but those are mixed in with obligation gifts.  And just because someone is easy or hard to buy for, in no way illustrates who I love deeply...

The list of people that I LOVE to buy for is short. 

The list of people that I would LOVE to buy for is ridiculously long.

And every year I am faced with squeezing the budget for that last category. 

But I want to take this moment to say to my daughter's teachers, aides, and therapists:

I wish I could buy each and every one of you a loaded gift card for Target or Staples, a trip to the spa for a massage, luxurious goodies, and a trip to Hawaii.

The work that you put in over YEARS of fighting for the same thing for my kid, is not unnoticed.  That we have been working and crying together for tied shoes and zipped coats and clearly written alphabet and spoken pronouns for 10 years...well, we are sisters and brothers-in-arms.  You know better even than most of my family how HARD it's been crawling up canyon walls to get to heinously behind, wrestling our way up from static and stalled.

You have been the backbone to Elise's scholastic achievement and her social successes.  I don't lay down on the job, but I also know I can't do it alone.  I know some tricks, but you know many more, and are continuously learning for MY KID.  You learn the hard way how 6-50 kids react in stressful situations.  You take even physical abuse protecting my child from herself.  You go home every night, trying to figure out what else MIGHT work for 10 kids...and you make mine feel like she is your most beloved.  You reach out to me when I cry at IEP meetings, crying with me and offering me comfort.

If I sat on Santa's lap right now, I would wish that every single time you opened your desk drawer, you would discover just exactly what you needed.

I will have to content myself with gifts that actually depress me to give you....in desperation that you feel how much I value you.

Because this year for Christmas, you gave me a kid who could talk on the phone with me and make sense, and, despite warning me that she may never be able to zip her own jacket zippers two years ago, she has done so, BY HERSELF this month, for the first time.  I have gotten more weepy about that than my son applying to colleges (shhhh, don't tell him).

Thank you.  You are the very best sort of elves.  You work magic with my girl and you do it with creativity and the most amazing ethic.  And, frankly, you don't get paid nearly enough for all the magic beans you plant in our lives.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Trouble Shooting Puberty

This particular post will be a little vague to protect Elise from embarrassment in the future, but I felt like the general specifics needed to be shared due to some surprised exclamations I received lately when spontaneously discussing it naturally with other parents of kids with varying disabilities.

Puberty is a giant war against crazy.  Seriously.  Add incomprehension and sensory issues in the pot and PTSD is unavoidable.  Truly, and NOT being disrespectful to veterans.

My personality default is to trouble shoot.  To the detriment of friendships at times...and to the redemption of relationships sometimes...go figure.  Parenting is a humongous exercise in trouble shooting and sometimes getting it right and sometimes getting it wrong, and a WHOLE lot of prayer.

Puberty was weird enough my first go round, with a typical son.  When faced with my darkest fear, a GIRL...well...I did what I always do...I made lists in my head of how I would handle things.  Then revamped them...over and over and over...ad nauseam.

When it became clear that Elise was going to go into it with a lowered mental age, limited communication, and raging sensory issues, I decided that I was going to handle it with as little stress as possible.  To do that, I decided that nothing could start as a time duress situation.  I was going to have to ease into everything slowly and WAAAAAAAY early, so I didn't happen into any surprises without wiggle room.

So, when she got all flippy dippy about her leg hairs in her leggings a couple of years ago, I started shaving her legs about once a week to week and a half, with a Schick Intuition.  No risk to cut herself, no shaving cream sensory gags (which I tried about 3 weeks ago, and she fell completely apart), and no pressure.  It was all on her terms.  Now that it is obvious when she needs to, its already an established routine and it's not a big deal to up the frequency a bit.

I handled the bra transition the same way.  I started letting her wear my exercise bras and the super stretchy sleep bras for fun.  Then I had her wear them to school once or twice a week, and then everyday.  And, again, now that it is no longer negotiable for modesty, she loves them and they are an established routine.

Deodorant, even.  I offered it to her when she was watching me get ready a few times, and she giggled and gagged.  Then I started asking her to put it on after a bath about once a week.  We are up to every bath, now, and she rarely needs it...but it is already established, with a scent that she loves, and we are poised, ready as soon as it becomes a daily non-negotiable.

Elise will be 13 at the end of this month and the most stereotypical aspect of puberty is looming, her period.  I mentioned how thankful I was for Willow being in heat for taking away the panic at its discovery last year. It will be any time now, so I have also been very proactive in trouble shooting for that rather huge adjustment.  I have fully anticipated that she will not handle it well, so I wrote into her IEP last year that when she starts, she will stay home that week.  My stance on that is "I don't hate anyone enough to make them deal with that." 

I have been trying to figure out how I was going to mediate that week for about a year.  Pads are dodgey and hot and bunchy for a person with typical sensory thresholds...and trying to face that with someone who loses her mind at seams in her socks and still gags watching anyone put on chapstick...well,it is daunting at best.  So, I have been trying to sort my way around that for quite some time.  I decided one day at the grocery that Poise incontinence unders would be a stellar option.  Nothing independently problematic.  TA-DA.  Except that they are hot and big.  Oh, well.  And then I got a advertisement in my Facebook feed thanks to my natural food "Like"s for THINX underwear.  But as lovely an idea as they are, they don't make the kind of unders Elise prefers AND they cost a FORTUNE.  And a few months later, I accidentally bumped into cloth menstrual pads.  They can be made in any length, shape, or fabric.  I messaged a very lovely lady on Etsy with ALL of my questions.  And not only did Denelle answer them, she sent a couple of pads for Elise to try and use to decide on her favorite fabrics.  Elise LOVES them, unlike the disposable one I made her try as well...which she gagged and retched and whined about.  And so, I have a nice little stash of pads that she wears around the house periodically...and which she brags about to her sisters who are now desperately jealous.  I can confidently say that we got all the transition of technical crazy out of the way, and we can deal with the normal, hormonal crazy head on.  While you may not be as comfortable as me, since I opted to cloth diaper my two youngest...I just share this because I know that most people don't realize there are other options out there...And I know how loathe I was to realize that I wasn't going to get out of this transition, and so I needed to act in a manner that would make it all easier on all of us.

If you have any questions on any of this, as usual, feel free to message me or email me, and I will answer anything that I can.

The time I called a doctor out and did him a favor.

I've corrected people on more positive language toward people with disabilities.  I've kept my mouth shut on a few occasions so I wouldn't end up needing bail.  I've wished I said something when I didn't...aaaand I've wished I'd kept silent when I didn't.

Over all, I try to listen to people's hearts and respond in a manner equal to what I think they are going to hear.  Abusing someone will not change hearts or encourage friendships.

I know that doctors are most under scrutiny by parents of kids with disabilities.  Which, to some degree I agree with, as they have access to the most forward information of successes.  But in another, I feel like their very profession encourages grouping needs under headings.  When they see a child with a single disability, they see the flow chart that comes from that definition.  When you see a child, you should see the child first, and the disability only as an outflowing of how you will need to alter or at least understand any changes to your communication and relationship.  When you go to the doctor, you WANT them to see the impact and consequences of that defining diagnosis...

However, I've seen doctors that have been crucified for the off the cuff remark, "Most Downs kids"...They have been black balled by entire communities and warned off by EVERYONE.

Person First Language, simply asks that you use semantics to underscore a person's individual value without any diagnosis.  For example:  Elise is a girl.  Elise is a girl with Down syndrome.  Elise is not Downs.  She is not That Downs girl.  Do you see?  Do you feel the value and respect difference?

Summary:  Elise, as I have said, is having some originating problem that is damaging her.  She is completely exhausted...sleeping to excess and struggling to cope with life as a consequence.  My first address came at the pediatrician, to make sure I wasn't missing a virus or infection or allergy.  Second, I requested a blood draw, a CBC with differentials, and a thyroid panel...to rule out cancer relapse or her thyroid crashing because of puberty and hormones.  This week we went to the cardiologist to rule out heart damage from the chemo or some kind of damage/tearing due to her congenital heart defects that were repaired at 3.5 months.  So far, we have no answers.  Frankly, this is good, because other than a virus or thyroid, the responses would have been gargantuan and dangerous. I am still treating her asthma, and we have an appointment in a few weeks.

ANYWAY, at the cardiology appointment, we got a doctor doing his cardiology fellowship.  He looked about 15, with the long, foofy, Bieber hair, and freckles.  The words "darling baby boy" should not come to mind when you are at the specialist for your child's medical conundrum...yeah.  But he heard my concerns and discussed with me back and forth like I was a peer.  (This is lovely, not all cardiologists have this kind of respectful manner!)  Some of his advice was put on the back burner, but some was put into my current medical pot to stir about.  At one point, he stumbled onto the generalization, "Many Downs kids".  At the time, we had already established a positive back and forth.  He had already been respectful to me, to Elise and her history, and given genuine input to the questions we are dealing with.  I heard it as it was meant.  I heard his compassionate heart, his knowledgeability of our situation, and his insight into possibilities.

After I got home, I realized that keeping silent had done HIM a disservice.  He is in training for a specialty that will be involved with a high number of kids with disabilities.  By letting that slide, I was putting him up on the chopping block for his heart and knowledge not to be heard by not using person-first language.  So I called the office back, and asked how I should get into contact with him over a concern.  Through a long chain, I ended up sharing this information with what felt like half of the office...and eventually he, himself called me back.  And I got to share with him my regret at not saying anything.  That I was not calling for me or my child, but that I was appreciating HIS specialty and learning process, by sharing with him MY specialty.  And he responded like a champ.  He heard me, defended his ignorance with what he MEANT to say, and graciously accepted the criticism AND education.  I am confident that he will be more conscientious in the future, and I hope he will tell his fellowship peers and anyone who trains under him in the future.  I am also rather grateful that I was late in my response, as I inadvertently educated about 4-5 other people in that office as well.

Step outside of your world and your comfort zone with confidence in your own unique skill set, and you will witness the changes.

Monday, October 5, 2015