Day 23

I know I should be grateful that the weather has been as beautiful as it has for the last 10 days or so, considering it's November.

This morning, all I can think of is Bah! More snow! Driving down the mountain in this crap just ratchets up my own anxiety level about 10 notches.

Found out why Big Kid was no longer on Risperidone. Back when they consulted with his neuro-psych, they didn't actually consult with him. They consulted with the doctor who was on call for him. Of course, he didn't know Big Kid's history, and when he prescribed the Haldol (which the kid was on for a total of 2 days, because it wasn't working), they discontinued his Risperidone. ::sigh::

Since he was sedated yesterday, they stopped the anti-psychotic they were using and let it get out of his system. Started him back on the Risperidone last night. Hope to God it works.

The kid had a little bit of a urinary tract infection the other day, and a bad reaction to the anti-biotics. He came out in a rash. The infection seem to have cleared up, so they're going to go ahead with the feeding tube in his stomach today.

I'm trying so hard to be kind and patient to those around me. I'm a sharpish, no-bullsh*t kind of person by nature, so it's difficult, especially now, since the original numbness I've been engulfed in (between raging bouts of panic) is wearing thin.

I know I look like the dog's dinner. I've been dressing for comfort, not style. Yes, sometimes I've forgotten to comb my hair for a couple of days and just threw it up in a bun. Makeup? Heh. At least I'm clean though.

Anyway I can only imagine how I'm viewed by the medical professionals who are in and out and rotating. I know image can be everything. Most have been kind with my incessant questions, and probably see me as a frumpy, frantic mom with a permanently stunned look on my face. A couple of have been impatient, and talk to me like I'm 12.

I've been persistent though. If they want to me to sign for a procedure, I need to have all the facts. If I don't understand something, I'm going to ask and ask for clarification until I do.

One impatient young medical professional started calling me "hon" over and over kind of in a snotty way. He wouldn't have dared if my husband was with me, and that alone annoyed the crap out of me. After the third time, I was thinking, "Pal, I don't care if you call me Attila or Mrs. Mom, but if you call me 'hon' one more time, I'm going to rip out your thorax and present your lungs to my son for a transplant."

And then of course a moment later I was praying, "Oh God, oh God, forgive me for being so nasty to this man who is trying to save my boy."

So on top of everything, now I have to deal with the voices in my own head. ;-)

Still no changes on the x-ray, and he's on 70% oxygen. He's resting quietly.

Thanks again for all your healing thoughts, and please send me the strength to have more patience.