Thursday, April 19, 2012
As I was driving Bennett to school this morning, I started to turn the Lillymobile off of Interstate 71 to take 270 toward my Psychiatrist's office. He's a great doc, as I have mentioned before, and he stacks my appointment with Bennett's now, so I told Bennett we were going to see Daddy’s Doctor because he seemed nervous.
Told him not to worry, we went there before, it was OK then, remember, and all that. It was for Daddy, not Bennett. Last time I did that it calmed him down a lot.
Not this time.
He freaked. He early choked himself on the seatbelt trying to get out of the carseat. I was petrified he might actually try to get out of the car itself. Now I have to start trying to figure out how to have him more forcefully restrained in the car AND have the doors more secured from the inside. I don't know how at this point, but at least for today, for the ride how tonight, I will have to rig something until I can find something that is 'official'.
I don't know what I would have done had he actually opened the door while the car was moving. He'd never acted this way before in his carseat, but then again, predicting his behavior of late has been impossible.
The entire way to the doctor's office from that point on he was crying and whimpering. When we got there he would not allow me to get him out of the car. When I tried to pick him up he screamed like I was killing him, squirmed and wriggled and ripped the hell out of a back and torso that is already in agonizing pain and then as icing on the cake he headbutted me and gave me a nice nosebleed.
I was so afraid I might drop him, and knew that I could never hold on to him by the hand without him pulling away and possibly running out in front of a moving car in the parking garage that I had no choice but to place him back in the car.
He wouldn’t let me near him after that. When I approached he would scurry to the floor or try to scramble over to the front seats. Plus he would also try to eat stuff off the floor that I have been meaning to vacuum up, stuff that he has been dropping over the past SEVERAL WEEKS.
Called the Doc’s office and told them I was outside and that I doubted I was going to be able to get him into the building. But like I said, my Doctor is like, Doctor Who, he's THAT cool, and he just said wait there and he came out to the car eventually for a quick consult. He is going to investigate a couple of medications for Bennett and get back to me.
I'm skeptical, but then again I am always skeptical. About everything. But especially when it comes to these fucking disabilities and our inability to navigate their intricacies. Maybe I just don't have as much hope as I had even a few weeks ago. It ebbs and it flows. And right now it ain't flowing.
I'm very tired.
Took a while for Bennett to allow me to get him back IN the carseat, and he cried the whole way to school, even when I tried to assure him we were going to school. Maybe he didn't believe me, I don't know. I didn't lie to him before. Have no idea why he is upset about going places. He didn't use to be.
He has an appointment tomorrow with his pediatrician. I doubt I will be able to get Bennett into her office alone. And even WITH help? It's going to be a nightmare.
This is not an isolated incident either. Been happening more and more. When Jen took him into Carter's Day Care a while back, just to pick Carter up, Bennett went ballistic as well, scratching up her arms, biting himself, going wildly out of control. It was unreal.
There is very little chance of us attempting any 'familial style outings' any time soon I reckon.
Now I suppose I should count my blessings. At least Bennett understood me, when I said we were going to see Daddy's doctor, as we turned off of the road where we would normally be going to his school. This should make me happy, right? I should be grateful for this, yeah? Because, after all, it could be so much worse, yeah?
Friday, April 13, 2012
OK, so the scoping of my throat got pushed to April 18th because of a surgery that my ENT had that conflicted with my April 2nd date. BUT, the good news is that I have had a man with his hands on my butt for the past couple of weeks. My back too.
The Physical Therapist has a soft, yet firm touch, so we've decided to start seeing each other regularly. At least for therapy.
Well, it started out that way.
But as you would expect, like many of my relationships he has quickly sent me away. In the middle of Session #3, with his hands on my right butt-cheek as he was working my spasming ass muscles, he basically said 'Well, since there hasn't been any improvement in flexibility or pain level since we started this I think you need to go back to your doctor and think about getting some kind of scan done.'
I think I should have been set up for that from the get-go, but like I said before, I am no Dr. House.
My PT did his evaluation and determined my spine had some Scoliosis (a fancy way of saying that my spine is bent) and my pelvis is being pulled out of whack, particularly by my right butt-muscles, which seem to be in a constant state of contraction. Though as of this writing, Friday, my left ass-muscles have joined the party.
Weird huh? So as they contract, the pelvic bones themselves are cocked outwards and everything is getting thrown off kilter. That MIGHT also explain why every so often The Twins retreat up into my abdomen for a while and aren't heard from. Dunno.
I did call my regular Doctor, and I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow. In the meantime, Mr. I Want Off Of All My Medications Because I Am Now Living A Healthier Lifestyle (that's me, BTW) was finally insistent on getting some pain medication. I just can't fucking take it anymore. So I asked and it was granted. Thank Christ. Or Dr. Phil...my Doc, not the fat asshat on TV who writes weight-loss books.
The meds have provided some, SOME, relief. But I can't take it all the time, like right now. I have to wait until after I take care of things like driving to certain things, shit like that. I don't want to risk it. And I can't stop doing all the things that I need to do, like driving the kid, and (crap) I GOTTA hit the lawn and soon. Can't put it off any longer. So I use it sparingly and the work I have to do often is counter-productive to its medicinal powers.
Still a waiting game for a while with this. No answer as to why the abdomen hurts a lot, or as to why the throat is also involved. Why there is some kind of 'build up of material' in my throat, according to the ENT. The thing is, I don't know if the MRI is gonna tell me a lot, but I hope so. But I have had back pain before. This is...different.
It was suggested to me, a couple of weeks ago, that this might be a Psychosomatic reaction. That my brain could be doing the ultimate Jedi Mind Trick on me.
At first, I was very taken aback by the suggestion. Hurt. Angry.. But then I gave it some very serious thought. I have to recognize that I am, by definition, mentally ill.
I control that illness through years of working on myself, going to a Psychiatrist, and taking medication, but let's face facts, I have at least three diagnosed conditions that you would have to classify in the category of 'mental illness'. And of this I bear no shame WHATSOEVER. Just as I bear no shame that I have a diagnosed degenerative disc condition or hypothyroidism.
These things happen. Why should I be embarrassed? I know many people are, and that is a tragedy on an epic scale. Especially when it prevents them from getting real help.
And yet, there is stigma. Case in point. When discussing this with my Mom, I mentioned that very thing, and she said 'I don't really like thinking of you as mentally ill.' To which I had to reply 'Well, Mom, of course you don't...and you wouldn't, you're my Mom, and you should be biased.' I know I would be. I don't LIKE to think of Bennett as being severely disabled. But he is.
Frankly, I don't like thinking of Scarlett Johansson without clothing on either...but I digress.
The fact of the matter is that I decided at some point that I was going to take a new, radical step into a direction of a major change of Health, and it is possible...UNLIKELY, but possible, that my subconscious mind is saying 'Nope...no you don't...you have GOT to stay miserable.' Like I said, it is not a likely scenario, but I would be remiss, totally, if I didn't at least investigate the possibility. So I will, though not at the expense of continuing to investigate the medical side of things.
Anyway, that's the latest poop on my 'medical status'...provided as an update via request from an old friend.
Weird thing, the human brain though, ain't it? Complex as shit. And a tricky sumbitch. It can be your greatest ally when things are at their bleakest, and yet it can also be the thing that continues to let you down when you need it the most.
I suppose I should be thankful that mine is still functioning relatively well after all these years, and all these 'diagnoses', and that I have come as far as I have. I've seen far too many instances of folks who've suffered less damage than I have doing just awful, unforgivable things. But somehow I was spared this fate. Always makes you wonder. What makes one man a monster and another walk a different road?
Food for thought, that's for sure.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
You know, I was poking around the blog today and looking at the posts from Days Gone By. Not really for content, more for just overall consistency and quantity. I can't stand the fact that what used to be so effortless for me, so fluid, has become so clunky and difficult.
And I can't figure out why.
Circumstances have changed, but not so radically, and how far back does it go? There has always been some...excuse though, hasn't there? Some reason that I CAN'T. That says something about either me, or it says something about how I feel about what it is I am doing. Or there could be an option 3 in there I just haven't stumbled across yet.
I once prided myself on months where I had double-digit post counts. Then I barely ever hit them. For a time I got back to it, but I always seem to circle back to struggling with it. There is an answer, to the question of 'Why?', at the very tip of my consciousness. It is RIGHT there, I can feel it. I can touch it with the tips of my overly chewed upon nubbins, but I can't get a grip on it.
Hate that shit.
Jen is slightly concerned. The other day she questioned where I was headed. She said I seemed distant of late. Can't argue with The Wife. They usually know. And I suppose I have been distant. Again...maybe there are reasons, and maybe those reasons are simple, but perhaps they aren't. I don't know.
If I were going to put forth one theory it would be this. I could dissect the entirety of my life here, now, as I am often prone to do, but none of that matters. I believe the Simple Truth is that I remain a man who is having difficulty finding the right Path on which to tread. The rest all falls into place when you have some solid ground underneath your feet.
The problem? I still have no idea whatsoever what that Path is. I feel a lot like Jack did on LOST. I'm angry a lot, confused, making some wrong choices and not really knowing myself the way I wish I did. Assuming I just 'don't have what it takes'.
Maybe I need a Lighthouse full of mirrors to smash and a beach to sit on so I can look at the ocean for a while, and then I can start figuring things out.
Because now I am stuck somewhere in Season 3 Jack form, and he was really unpleasant a lot of the time, don'tcha think?
Then again, I could just be having a bad day.
Monday, April 2, 2012
I've often wondered about something that came up while reading comments from some of the regular readers and commentators, and I thank you all, regarding the last home movie I posted of Bennett and I interacting and his use of the phrase 'My Turn.' and his handling of the song 'Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes'.
In fact, I was discussing it with Richard on the phone (Dora's Daddy) the other day at length...regarding what I show and do not show of Bennett overall within the pages of this blog.
Editing is everything, and I am wondering sometimes if I am painting a complete picture of who he is. But then again I often ask myself, do I WANT to paint a complete picture of who he is? It is a dilemma I wrestle with.
When it comes to me, I am not sure that it matters so much. I don't have many secrets, and yet, even with as much as I am prone to share, even I have a few left in my pockets. Some I intend to talk about at some point, some that I never intend to. But what rights have I, as Bennett or Carter's parents, to show their lives in totality? What is too far?
Do I want to show him biting himself? Hitting himself? I can probably get that on the camera, the question is...should I post it on the blog as a contrast?
I wrestle with it, like I said. On the one had, I want to remain positive. On the other, I want to be realistic about what his...about what OUR...life is really like day to day. I think in many ways it is informative, it is educational, and it helps to show parents, especially those not IN our world, what life is like for us. Something that, while it can never be understood without walking in our shoes, even amongst each other many times, it helps to have as much information as possible.
Anyway, that's been on my mind the last few days, ever since I put that movie out there. I have this odd compulsion to write about all kinds of things, and yet lately I have found myself holding back. Not sure why. Have to figure that one out I suppose. And I am sure it has something to do with this unusual path I find myself on of late.
Which reminds me...I gotta tell you an interesting story about baboons.
BUT, I am outta time, so I'll get to that later.
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