The Darkness Cometh!

And by "darkness" I am referring to that depressing, life-halting, germ-yielding, just-plain-dismal time of the year otherwise known as Winter! Bleh. Yes, I am a classic Seasonal Affective Disorder sufferer who finds it incredibly difficult not to succumb to irrational bouts of envy when seeing her overseas friends posting pictures of all things Summer...just can't help it, sorry guys! Thankfully, a little S.A.D. (a rather appropriate acronym, or what?) has been the least of our worries the last Winter or two...but YIKES! did Sam ever make up for it this time round.

 

A couple of days after my last post, the little dude landed up in hospital with Rotovirus. It absolutely floored Sam, who spent almost a solid week napping his time away...and we're not talking Sam's usual mickey mouse naps of like fifteen/twenty minutes. We're talking like 3-4 hour naps! Yes, really! Then you know for sure that the lil dude's struggling. Sam was discharged the Sunday and by the Wednesday morning we had to make another trip to the ward after Sam woke up sporting a 40.3c temp. I was pretty sure it was the remnants of that darn Rotovirus, hanging on to wreak its last bit of  havoc, but Prof Prof seemed to think it was something new brewing. Nah, I thought. No coughing or congestion...definitely Rotovirus. By 4pm that afternoon Sam was coughing and snotty. #sigh

 

I tried to manage with some OTC meds for a couple of days, but by the Saturday I had to admit defeat and accept a script for Celestamine. My lack of warrior spirit might well have been influenced by my own coughing and snotty constitution, forming an all-round, family partaking (with the exception of Papa Bear) in some pretty nasty flu. 

 

It is not unusual for Sam to struggle with sleep and a general sense of being unsettled after a hospital stay - it is the very reason why I try to cope at home with his illnesses before resorting to admission (obviously without leaning towards negligence of course). With the exception of the first night in hospital, Sam slept through every night...waking only to protest aggressively whenever a nurse came in to check his stats. But from the first night at home, Sam battled with sleep...the first few nights found him bodybashing himself around between midnight and 2am-ish, but soon we were back to our old demon...bodybashing anything from 11pm till 4/5am each morning. I don't know how I coped with this before, but this time round neither Sam or I managed the severe sleep deprivation well at all. Last week Tuesday we headed off back to Prof Prof, after almost a week's surviving on just 1-2 hours sleep each night. After advising that Sam's throat was a little irritated, probably caused by a nasal drip, and that his gums were looking a little fragile thanks to him cutting his molars...we headed home with a new script. Yay! Sam's teeth generally take MONTHS to eventually make their way through.  Months with only a couple of hours sleep a night? "Sure, we can do that!" she says laughing hysterically!

Although the meds certainly did help some, I kept thinking back to those night's of blissful sleep in the hospital despite Sam actually being really ill. The major difference between hospital and home was that at home Sam was still sleeping in our bed, smack-bang in the middle to prevent him from hurting himself when bashing, while at the hospital he slept in his own bed. So Thursday we decided to go out on a limb and move house without the actual benefit of a brand new house....in other words...rearrange our bedroom, which in turn meant rearranging almost the entire house! Sam's bed was relieved of the storage facility it had merely become and pushed snug up against our own bed (baby steps). And? Well, with some very light bashing every night around 1am every night, Sam has been sleeping comfortably there ever since.  As much as what he wants to sleep in our bed, being in his own bed is obviously far more comfortable and, it seems, partly responsible for his disrupted sleep.  And of course the quality of sleep I am getting being able to actually relax my muscles without the fear of falling off the 10cm little scrap of bed I was left to rest on each night, is quite delightful too.  Sam's still battling with his teething, his super-flushed cheek and relentless teeth-grinding tells me so...but he is at least getting a decent amount of sleep at night now. And who knows? Maybe the next six years will see us actually moving his bed a couple of cm's apart from ours....the sky's the limit folks.

 

 And some pics to catch up the last month...the parts which weren't spent sick in bed :

 

 

 

Sam's bestie, Smokey rabbit, and Sam having a moment

 

 

On the 18th of July, The Daniel and Friends Fund families were treated by Reach for a Dream to an awesome morning at the Aquarium. Sam was so well behaved and lasted a full five hours with only a very minor meltdown in the beginning when I stepped away for a few minutes.  We were so very proud of him :)

 



 

 

 

 

Family snap xxx 

 

And, thanks to our little germ-fest, with the exception of multiple doc visits and shopping sprees to our local pharmacy, that's really the only exciting stuff Sam's been up to!!! Roll on Summer xxx

Shake it up baby now....

...twist and shout!

I have no conscious recollection of Sam ever having heard that song but somehow it must be playing over and over in his head because the second his pushchair rolls through the door of any shopping mall that's precisely what happens. We make sure that every shopping trip is accompanied by the ipod competing with the usual mall-raucous to belt out Heads & Shoulders and other equally delightful kiddies songs, which tunes are accompanied by a little dude whose entire body shakes, flaps, twists and occasionally squeals...not always harmoniously...in response to the music. And when I say entire body I mean it in every essence of the word....head,neck, arms, fingers, wrists, legs, feet and even the palm-tree-like tufts of hair on his head each go off at their very own rhythm. It inevitably creates a reaction. More often than not it's a friendly smile or lighthearted utterance about him being happy, etc. But sometimes it's a plain and undisguised stare, the kind where the deliverer of said stare glances out of the corner of their eye, quickly looks straight ahead with obvious feigned indifference and then just as you're about to pass from their view they do a sudden Ace Ventura-style headwhipping to take a better look at the blur of movement being barely restrained by the straps of his stroller. It's a fascinating scenario. I've only ever met two other kiddo's with RTS and although we've never strolled through a shopping mall together, I don't believe they are quite as twisty-flappy as Sam which makes me wonder if there are any other RTS kiddo's who do it and how their folks deal with the attention. Some days I just ignore it, some days I play a little private game where I try turn my head at the precise moment I think the Ace Ventura-style headwhipping will take place. Some days, like today, I'm just not up to it. So when we headed down to the mall this evening  left the ipod at home. And? There was twisty-flapping galore. It ain't the music on the ipod he's flapping to so it's gotta be the music in Sam's head :)

So on Monday we had our  appointment with new Neuro guy. It was an interesting process just getting to the hospital. Sam's bowels had been a bit sluggish so I'd increased his Movicol for a day or two which means, in turn, that there'd be a day or two of 'cleansing' when the Movicol kicked in. Would it be our life if that day of cleansing did not happen on Monday? Absolutely not. Sam had two relatively large nappies early in the morning so I felt we'd be free from the chaos always caused by Sam needing to be lied down for a nappy change any place other than my bed. We left the house en route to Aunty Justine's, a total journey of about 8 mins, in which time Sam delivered the ultimate cleanout I thought we'd already conquered. Rushed inside and worked through a tense but manageable nappy change saved only by the fact that it was being done on a bed at least. Then in the following eleven/twelve minutes max it took to the hospital, yet another cleanout was delivered! Seriously? Granted not as explosive as the previous one but without the safety of a bed to clean it on. So I drove to the very end of the parking lot, completely isolated from any other car where hopefully Sam's freaking out would not be heard by anyone. Arrived just just on time for appointment, ridiculously flustered. Luckily the 37 mins we waited gave me some time to catch my breath and cool down. New neuro guy is really nice so 37 min wait was quickly forgiven. He gave Sam the best possible examination you can perform on a squirming protesting little dude, we chatted about scheduling another MRI and then he asked me to please bring in the original post op MRI disc for comparison, which posed a very slight problem in that there never was a post op MRI. Seriously? Well better late than never right? Even though it's approximately 3yrs late. #eyeroll

So leave docs office and make my way through the door only to come to a grinding halt. The sunshine we'd arrived with had been replaced with a strong wind and drizzle. Firstly, I very VERY seldom wear skirts. I had a skirt on. And not just any skirt...an A-line and particularly flairy skirt (I so wished I'd done the ironing on Sunday night like I'd originally planned). And secondly, I'd parked as absolutely far away from the door as I could. I awkwardly maneuvered myself and Sam to the paypoint, trying to maintain my decency, shield Sam's summer-clad little body from the elements and pay my parking card at the same time. Grabbed the coins from the change drawer and dashed to the car, unlocking it and unfastening Sam's straps while looking in my bag for my paid ticket. The ticket. Nowhere to be found. S.E.R.I.O.U.S.L.Y!

I hadn't taken it from the machine.

Refasten Sam, relock car and dash back to the paypoint like a, now,frizzy-haired loon. Of course the ticket wasn't there, that would be too easy. Luckily the security guard remembered me being there just moments before and scooted around the entrance, thankfully finding my ticket caught in some plants where it had blown. Amidst mouthfuls of wayward hair, uttered my eternal gratitude and offered a repeat display of comedy departure. Yes...seriously.

The hospital phoned today to say that Sam's booked in on Tuesday already which is a little short notice and only at 10am which brings with it it's own set of challenges trying to calm a starving little Smurf who doesn't understand why he's being deprived of his morning bottle an porridge. Let's just pray that it's all made worthwhile by an MRI which clearly shows that there has not been a retethering of Sam's spinal cord.

And sleep? Well those glorious 14 nights we were spoilt with a couple of weeks ago don't seem to be making a comeback any time soon. We're back to 4-6 hours of thrashing around at night, mostly caused by an impossibly congested nose despite Sterimar and Iliadin sprays, eucalyptus misting and Karvol drops on the linen. Last night though Sam seemed to have an intense, unbearable itch all over his body. And tonight were doing continuous apnoea's.

I tried to sneak some time on the computer to have a go at pimping Sam's blog a little but as you can see, it did not go well - just as I started Sam woke up. So please excuse the rather random design for now.

On Sunday we were invited to an Easter egg hunt by Iris House where Sam had such a good time and no matter how excitedly he flapped and 'danced' the only looks he got were those of love...

All a mom wants :)

I was absolutely determined to hold out posting until I got an opportunity to do so from my pc...well that worked out well, so here we are :/

Iris House Childrens Hospice contacted me last week to say they're coming to do a respite care sit yesterday morning so I had mentally prepared a jampacked four hours of ironing, taking up the hems of the several pants hung over my chair that I can't wear (would be hysterically happy to one day buy a pair of pants that don't need shortening) and then of course had at least a two hour blogging session in mind. However, the IH ladies arrived and Sam seemed so completely relaxed and 'okay' and there were a few errands I needed to run yesterday which were going to be a bit tricky with Sam, like needing to have a few docs certified at the local police station for Meg's high school application (Eek). Which local police station has only 2 very steep, very short steps at the entrance...no ramp in sight...very disabled friendly. I also then needed to go deliver the application which would entail having to strap Sam into his pushchair to walk up a sloped driveway with my dodgy, braced ankle just to literally hand the envelope over and leave again. Unfortunately, while the idea of a nicely laid out post with neatly, appropriately detailed pictures was attractive, the thought of ironing and sewing compared to an hour to myself was not. And so Sam had his very first 'solo' respite sit! And it went really well. He refused to drink his Pediasure which was sort of expected but I was only gone for just under an hour-and-a-half so that wasn't a huge trainsmash.

And the dodgy ankle brace means that I can finally drive again. Big whoop whoop! Which means that Sam could return to his therapies for the first time in  almost 8 weeks. I anticipated a really resistance-filled physio session on Friday but Sam surprised both Heidi and myself. Of course there was some moaning, but there always is. I actually think it would be fair to say it was one of Sam's most fruitful sessions yet and with him having four-and-a-half years of therapy under the belt, that's no careless statement! With my ankle taking so long to heal I've had to push Sam to see walking as the first choice of movement and not so much mom's hip. So wherever we've needed to go, whether it's the short distance to the bathroom or the much longer distance from the car to the door, I've insisted Sam walks it with me holding him steady on his waist. Realistically, he's still not going to walk any time soon (even though his 5th birthday looms barely a month away) but he's definitely becoming less afraid and fear is ultimately what's holding him back right now. Last week I needed to pop into our local Spar and decided to take Sam's walker along. It was the most entertaining trip we've ever had to such a basic store. Of course Sam loved that he was navigating his own way and gestured wildly while exclaiming with delight, in an especially sing-songy voice, at things he recognised like bananas. At the end of the trip the five items we purchased took us more than 45 mins but it was well worth it. 

We're still battling to secure an appointment with the neurosurgeon who operated on Sam's tethered spinal cord which is becoming increasingly frustrating for a host of valid reasons, not least of which would be that as he performed the surgery he is obviously the person you'd most like to do the follow-ups and also, we really liked him and his caring and compassionate nature, which is probably the reason why he's chosen to discontinue private practice and focus only on his work at the state hospital, where we are not welcome. Thankfully, by way of kindness, we've been referred to a new neurosurgeon. The orthopaedic surgeon taking care of my ankle insisted on giving Sam an impromptu and free examination at my last follow-up. He completely agreed with the need to have Sam undergo a follow-up MRI of his spinal cord and immediately requested his assistant schedule an appointment for us with the neurosurgeon just down the passage, who he highly recommends. So we see the neuro this coming Monday...finally!

I do tend to become emotionally attached to Sam's specialists. It takes me a long while to establish trust, so to have to keep rebuilding relationships can be a bit exhausting, not to mention the nagging guilt. But I do have to admit that I now absolutely advocate the need for very occasionally acquiring a new perspective. For eighteen months we have battled, unsuccessfully, to try and resolve Sam's sleep problems and find out once and for all what prevents him from resting peacefully and drives him to such extreme frustration that he resorts to hours of harmful body bashing, despite us having tried almost every medication available. As I mentioned in my last post (I think?) the prof paed we saw on 10th March changed Sam's reflux meds from Losec to Nexium. Sounds kinda insignificant, right? Well for fourteen consecutive nights Sam slept through most of every night. There would be an occasional 30 seconds bashing here and there but nothing even as remotely distressing as before. He's now unfortunately got a bit of a snotty nose so we're back to disrupted sleep again, but still very manageable. He's even been taking afternoon naps again, the shortest one being today of just over an hour while the others have lasted up to two/two-and-a-half hours. And a kid who's finally getting some decent sleep makes for a much more relaxed little dude all round... whether it's at therapy, in shops or spending five hours next to a hockey field each day for Meg's recent hockey tour.

Sam also seemed to be in a bit of a eating slump at the time we saw Prof paed so he suggested putting Sam back on Cipla-Actin and what a barrel of laughs that has been, he's now constantly starving. And where we had found ourselves back at that place where I was pureeing things like cooked-to-the-point-of-being-mush oats and even shop bought baby food (Yes, really), all of a sudden Sam was eating pieces of apple, jelly tots and even chocstix (chocolate covered pretzels). And anyone eating in his presence without his own mouth chewing is a no-no. We were at a braai (BBQ) one night, Sam having had his dins much earlier, and I was just about to bite into my rib when a little hand reached over and slowly guided the meat to his own mouth. If it wasn't for the chilli spice on it I might have let him take a nibble just to see his reaction. 

Sleeping and eating.... what more could a mother want for her child? Okay... maybe pooping. Oh...and talking...and walking would be nice too :)

Ending off with pics ♡

For a kid with such major sensory issues,  Sam is very tactile and usually needs to be holding onto someone whether it's Meg's hand in the car, Mom's hand while he iPads or Mom's arm while he sleeps. I adore this part of Sam ♡  

  Another cute habit Sam has is what's commonly referred to by our RTS community as 'twinning'. Twinning is basically when, for instance, our kiddos want to watch the same thing on tv and their ipad at the same time. It can be quite tricky successfully timing both devices perfectly but I have to say we've quite near mastered it.  

   It's such a 'smally' for some but the fact that the lil smurfy dude can transition into a sitting position independently again still makes me so happy. No achievement is sweeter than when accomplished despite challenges, lost through trauma and then mastered again ♡

    Sam getting some much-missed flapping in next to the hockey field

     Making himself at home at Overmeer Guesthouse    

      Dad kinda loved the kingsize bed... less chance of being whacked by a stray,  thrashing arm  

       The only time Sam slept during the six hours there and the six hours back - and this snooze lasted all of about 15 mins. 

        Meg on the other hand slept almost the whole way... not unusual for her

        

Sam's early birthday pressie from Bramps 

Nocturnal Smurf

Crocodile Samdee :)

Nocturnal Smurf was my original heading for this post after Sam pulled another all-nighter amidst several evenings of his usual sleep-challenged nights. Sam's only second ever art class was to be held at our house on Friday. It seemed like a good idea at the time but when Friday morning dawned and Sam had very few hours of sleep to brag about I started feeling a little anxious about Sam's ability to peacefully allow his friends to explore his territory. While Sam did not really participate in the art activities himself, he was unexpectedly okay with having the group in our small house and actually enjoyed quite a few delightful moments watching the others playing and putting on a show for him. Yes, there were one or two narrowly-escaped hair pulling and toy throwing incidents but at the end of the class I felt

the art class had been a successfully interacted experience for Sam, minus the actual art of course. 

Sam was fairly exhausted by evening and fell asleep quickly... and awoke just as quickly somewhere before midnight, not shutting his eyes again till 8:36am on Saturday morning for a two hour nap. 

There was bodybashing, crying, frustration, desperation... but no sleep. Oh... and there was fever... and vomit. Saturday and Sunday both flew passed in a haze of exhaustion and more of the above while trying to attend to necessary tasks, like laundry, in the 40ºc heat. Somewhere round 6pm on Sunday I remembered I'd done a load of washing and forgotten it. With the heat still stifling at that time I chose to quickly hang it out and it was in my haste that I trod incorrectly on an uneven piece of ground and popped my ankle. 

Off we rushed to the local trauma unit where after 4 hours of waiting and 6 x-rays the on call doctor determined it was just a bad sprain and after applying a bandage, sent me on my way with instruction to keep off the foot for a week. I was a little uncertain of her diagnosis but anxious to get home to my sick little man. 

With Sam being really miserable and clingy it was a little difficult to keep my leg elevated and while I didn't stand on the foot,  I most certainly had to resort to a little weight beating. 

By Tuesday morning Sam's temp was still hovering around 38ºc despite meds so I made a doc appointment for him. Chris' phone rang several times during the consultation from a somewhat familiar number but we did not want to be rude and answer it. Upon returning the call we were advised that my x-rays had gone to the resident orthopaedic surgeon who had found a fracture. 

Pretty handy info to have had 36 or so hours earlier, or what?

Next step (or rather clumsy crutch-clutched lurch) was the fitting of an aircast and the countdown to a follow up        consult on the 28th. Over and above the pain and discomfort of this bulky apparatus in the middle of summer is the rather heartbreaking issue of not being able to take care of my lil smurfy dude... especially when he is ill :(

We're having a wee problem

And by "wee" I don't mean small because it's certainly not a small problem at all.

 

With Sam still sleeping poorly and still going way too many hours without passing any urine, we popped off to see his paed yesterday. Sam's bladder was somewhat distended and very full so Doc Paed marched us off to radiology for some vomiting (inevitable)and a scan. The scan showed about 50mls of  'sludge' in Sam's bladder and a slightly enlarged right kidney. Doc Paed's thoughts on the 'sludge' is that it might be some debris from one or more of Sam's current meds. So the plan of action for the next five days is to hold up on the Faverin (anxiety) and Motillium and start Sam on some Cardugen, which should relax the muscles in the bladder and hopefully bless us with more frequent wet nappies. An added bonus Doc Paed mentioned is that the Cardugen might help relax Sam overall and make for some much-needed sleep.

 

And that it did for sure. Sam slept a solid 11 hours last night, hardly moving at all...

But Sam's nappy stayed dry for another 14.5hrs despite the Cardugen apparently taking only 2 hours to start having an effect. Doc Paed advised that going 6 hours without passing urine is reason for worry so 14.5hrs plus plenty fluids and a dose of the relaxant is a little stressful. This morning he decided to add an antibiotic too in case there's an infection lurking somewhere that we can't pinpoint.  Being Motillium-free is also going to be rather entertaining as the Motillium prevents vomiting and helps the stomach empty a little quicker so, with Sam's tummy emptying at about the same pace as a snail doing the Comrades, we're surely up for some v-wording.

On a good note (well kinda) my body was so relieved and grateful for a decent night's sleep last night that it blessed me with a truly wonderful dream. I dreamt we were sitting at the diningroom table and all of a sudden Sam WALKED passed and I was like WOW! I so get Jessica's (Sam's RTS brother Alex's mom) post from almost five years ago when she blogged one day about sitting on the sofa and all of a sudden seeing Alex's head bob passed and how seeing him walking was quite surreal. I woke up all dream-happy and even slightly excited at merely just the thought of Sam walking someday. Truly can't wait.

But first, there's gotta be pee!

Accessorise! Accessorise!

Move over Louis Vitton and Prada...I have recently acquired the ultimate fashion accessory.

 

 

Behold...the DNY all-purpose carry all!

 

Perfectly designed to catch and store the most ghastly of throw-ups with a large, easy-to-aim opening and readily disposable container. The product of a spontaneous brainstorming after last Friday's art class, when Sam spewed his entire stomach's contents all over the inside of the car, at the sighting of unfamiliar territory...before I'd even managed to get him out the car. 

 

This was the before picture...I thought it best not to capture the after picture LOL!

 

 

 

Several times over the days leading up to Sam's very first art class, I let him watch a video of children painting pictures, as well as on the Friday morning hoping to prepare him in a way for the morning's planned activities. I knew Sam would not hold a paintbrush, so opted instead for finger paints especially as he seems quite keen lately to try different textures on his hand, even textures which previously freaked him out, like bubble bath.  But of course before getting down to any painting there was the matter of transitioning him from familiar hence safe (car) to unfamiliar hence threat (never before visited home). Transitioning is definitely an issue with Sam at the moment...it's that vulnerable space between the safe, solid chair to the safe, solid floor.

 

My first reaction was to surrender and head our vomit-covered smurf home. But after encouragement from the wonderfully supportive other moms, decided to stay and although Sam refused any kind of painting and moaned occasionally, we spent a good hour just enjoying the other children proudly tackling their activities. 

 

Already caught up in a particularly challenging wave of anxiety, the severe lack of sleep happening in Smurfville is most certainly not helping at all. From Friday evening till Tuesday, Sam's sleep deteriorated from being awake roughly between 12am and 4am to less than two hours sleep on Monday evening. Sam woke just after 10pm and that was it, he bashed himself senseless and to the point of acquiring a few bruises, until just before 6am at which point it was easier to just admit defeat and get up. I was convinced there had to be something bothering him so went off to the doc but Sam received a clean bill of health. Sam's been having some urinating issues again and over the past few days going anything between 12 to 16 hours without a wet nappy has become the norm, despite drinking at least 1litre of fluid every day so I was looking forward to mentioning this at our neuro appointment on Wednesday, but quite distressingly the appointment was cancelled due to some sort of miscommunication regarding Sam's neurosurgeon's availability. We did do a urine test on Tuesday to rule out a UTI, which it did.

 

Another issue I wanted to raise at Wednesday's appointment was the possibility of Myoclonic Seizures. Quite some time ago I complained that Samuel's body twitches and jerks all through the night...his legs, his arms, his hands almost constantly and even his head. So much so that it lifts off the pillow sometimes.  Somewhere along the line I recall the term Myoclonic Seizures being mentioned on one of the SPD support sites. I paid little attention, reassuring myself that even though Sam's only had 5 seizures in his lifetime I would most certainly recognise it if it happened again. Then over Christmas Sam had that lovely little virus visiting his tummy and I awoke one night to him having a very short, but definite, convulsion. The first two convulsions he ever had were febrile convulsions caused by the onset of a nasty tummy bug, almost three years ago to that day. I kept a close eye on Sam for the next few days and decided to go read up on Myoclonic Seizures after all, just in case, only to discover that they are in fact not "seizures" as such, as I  had presumed, but rather a series of spontaneous jerking, etc. An extra bonus was that there are a few video's on Youtube actually showing what it looks like and it pretty much looks exactly like what Sam's little body is doing through the night, which would sort of explain why peaceful sleep escapes him. 

 

So, again, really disappointed that Wednesday's appointment didn't take place :(

 

Finally, Wednesday evening saw us enjoying at least a little sleep. Not a full night's, but there was more sleep than wakefulness...which becomes quite good enough. Thursday morning was Sam's first group outing -  to the Fire Department! Really exciting, particularly for me, as Sam loves doing the "fire engine" sign. Thankfully we avoided vomit for at least the first half hour, although Sam preferred observing the fire engine and the other children from a distance. When the firemen turned the water on, that distance entailed Sam and I having to leave the actual fire station and watching from outside the front of the fire station, through the great big doors. There might have been vomit, but it was just a little...not even enough for me to have to reach for my DNY but easily cleaned up with a wet wipe. That little bit of vomit though was quite a blessing as when rushing to the car to retrieve the wet wipe, I discovered I had left my car door open the entire time. GASP! These kind of little..um...oversights are becoming a bit too frequent. There has been the occasional bottle or phone left on the roof of the car and en route to the Fire Station on Friday I suddenly found myself at the local high school, not too far off my intended destination (barely a kilometre or five) but still just a tad worrying. Surviving on 1-2 hours sleep a night, I would have imagined far more perilous consequences so we're still good for now. And boy is that a good thing, because last night we did another whopping amount of bodybashing from, again, round 10pm till just before 5am. Thankfully Sam fell asleep then for just over three hours, giving us just enough time to make it to physio which lasted all of 20 minutes as Heidi was unable to work with the fearful and fight-or-flighting little dude :(

 



Where Sam is at his most happiest lately...at home, close to the floor, on a soft surface...with an adorable little boy for company

Sam and his "bike" providing us huge amounts of amusement because try what you might, he refuses to sit straight on the seat. As soon as you correct his position, he shifts that little bottom to the left and refuses to ride any other way.

Change

Sam turns five this year. Yikes!
Meghan turns thirteen. Double Yikes!
Mom turns.....mmm, let's just not go there!  #fortyphobia

Since pretty much the beginning of Sam's sensory/anxiety issues I have found myself wanting to homeschool Sam. I take great delight in sharing that before the age of three Sam knew all his numbers 1-20, many shapes, letters a-f and more recently can recognise almost 30 different WORDS from his list of signs.  And these words have no pictures or icons, it is simply a list of 200 words from which he can select several simply by scrolling down the list. And it's not the easy words...it's words like caterpillar, swing, sleep, daddy, mommy, grampa! I love how much Sam absorbed whatever I was "teaching" him and how he thrives on a one-on-one setup.

Towards the end of last year I started having second thoughts. Watching Meg enjoy the excitement of the various yearend activities like concerts and grade results, etc. made me a little bit emotional about Sam not ever experiencing those same things.  Suddenly all thoughts of homeschooling had me envisioning a solitary smurf, humped over his i-Pad, robbed of social interaction and, seemingly, life. Accompanied by an equally solitary, hermit-like,  humped-over mother (hers age-related LOL). I thought about the extra, included therapies Sam would benefit from by attending a school for differently-abled children as well as the possibility of me returning to work to try and keep our heads above water financially. 

Also, and perhaps having had the most impact, I recalled someone making a comment on some or other medium implying that homeschooling was effectively saying that you do not believe your child has the potential to thrive.

Yip. Definitely what had me ever-so-slightly mortified.  Simply because I know Sam truly does have potential, huge unimaginable hoards of potential.  And it would be devastating to have him or anyone else believe otherwise. 

And then the holidays happened. Along with a level of anxiety and distress we have never seen before...and we've seen plenty of both. Apart from the change in routine that goes with no school or work (which I've mentioned before) there were other minor things just as baffling. Samuel stopped pulling himself up on the tv unit, which he used to do all the time especially when watching his favourite dvd's. He became impossible to transition from, say, the couch to the floor. He would just turn around and cling to whatever he could grab in absolute fear. Having him so fearful in his own home is saddening.

Remember the story about the time I hung curtains in our bedroom? Try this one on...

As our lounge is a little quaint, putting the Christmas tree up required the moving of some furniture. And by "some" I mean shifting one sofa a total of about 1.5 metres at a 90deg angle. When Grampa returned from a two week visit with his sister and noticed the change in Sam, he asked if it couldn't perhaps be the shifting of the sofa that was unsettling Sam so much. I said "Nah!"

Yesterday morning I moved the lounge back to it's original arrangement. Instant improvement in Sam's behaviour. The fear is not completely gone, but it is better.

The lil smurfy dude just doesn't do well with change. He doesn't do well with unfamiliar. I tried to introduce Sam into the Sunday School class last weekend.  With the classes not having begun yet, the class was very casual with the other kiddies just playing ball or building blocks...nothing particularly exciting. Of course I planned to stay with Sam all the time. Instantly he started gagging. I tried to distract him, which worked for a little while. More gagging. Twice I left the room to try calm him. But eventually it got too much for him and he started vomiting again.

So here's the thing...Sam in a mainstream school will.not.work. It is not a cop out. It is not a surrendering of his potential. It is not an over-emotional grumbling. It is what it is. REALITY. Putting Sam in a mainstream school now would not be for Sam's benefit. It would be for ours...for the sake of our pockets and for the sake of the "normal" expectations instilled in us for our children, for the sake of fitting in, for the sake of a hundred other things except for the sake of our uniquely designed Sam.

Now, the only doubts I have about homeschooling are really about myself. Having no teaching experience, will I be able to adequately educate Sam? I am blessed to have a good friend who is currently homeschooling both her sons and has introduced me to a homeschooling group. Her reassurances that homeschooling by no means deprives a child of social interaction have been validated almost immediately by an arranged group art class tomorrow morning at 10:30 which Sam and I will be attending (hopefully minus v-wording) and an outing for next Thursday to the Fire Department which couldn't come at a better time as Sam has suddenly developed a keen interest in fire engines.  I have every intention of persevering with the Sunday school class as well and can only pray that Sam eventually starts to feel comfortable there. Taking that Meghan took a total of two years and nine months before she enjoyed her first tear-free day in primary school, I am hoping that by the time Sam is 7 we might have a successfully attended Sunday school class!!!

I am excited about our homeschooling journey. I am excited about finding new and creative ways to teach Sam, knowing that I am playing an active role in helping him be all that he can be. I know in my heart it's the right decision for Sam :) What was that I mumbled recently about how changing the path you take doesn't necessarily mean changing the goal xxx

Progress is a nice word, but change is its motivator.
And change has it's enemies.
(Robert Kennedy)

The Lighter side of Sensory Processing Disorder

Sam's newly acquired aversion to the sound of running water and, more importantly, the sound of running water hitting any kind of surface has become quite entertaining.  Last Sunday Sam had another vomit session at Church (Yes, really #sigh). The first thing we did once he stopped puking was walk him over to the outside tap to try and wash off his hands, hoping to make transporting Pukey Smurf a little less challenging. Well the poor kid jumped a metre high when the water hit the paving outside, almost starting the puking all over again.

 

This interesting new twist has kind of put a damper on my wanting to try Sam with some potty training this Summer.  I thought the least "pressured" step we could take would be to let Sam have a wee in the garden.  Well two major problems with that one a) he won't stand on the grass and b) that would entail him having to tolerate the sound of his wee hitting the grass.  It just ain't gonna happen folks. Quite amusing is the fact that he has taken a liking to having a whizz on the bathmat at night while I am undressing him and the sound of the little pool forming on the mat does not seem to bother him just one bit.  So the only thing I could think of was a fur-lined potty. JUST KIDDING! Well kinda, if I thought it would work I'd certainly try it.  Just for laughs though I googled fur-lined potties and actually found one! Unfortunately the fur would have to be at the bottom as that plastic bottom would definitely make for some serious startling. Nevermind the laundering challenges that would pose, although having to wash the bathmat on a daily basis is not much fun either.  

 

Luckily most of the moms on the Sensory Processing Disorder site have shared that trying to get SPD kiddo's onto a potty is almost impossible so we are being spared the epic fail that would come from fur-lined potties.

 

More seriously though, this SPD thing has us beat at the moment.  First there was RTS and having to adapt to a set of specific challenges.  Then 19mnths later, having just started feeling like we were sort of keeping head above water in the RTS ocean, along came SPD.  There, but pretty much in the background with the exception of some conquerable little quirks like keeping Sam away from sunlight (which caused him to scream as if in pain), making sure his milk was always the exact same temperature, etc etc while we still grappled with the more serious RTS issues like a tethered spinal cord, undescended testes, etc.  Then after that first testicle repair all of a sudden SPD was right up front giving RTS a remarkable run as most puzzling condition.  And now? Now Sam's sensory issues are by far more perplexing than his RTS issues. Why would the SPD issues be troubling us more than the RTS issues? Because, to a certain extent, we are at least prepared even if on a shortterm basis, for what to expect...what to look out for with RTS. But oh my gosh, no such thing with the SPD.  Sam's "symptoms/triggers" are changing almost on a daily basis. It's like having a different "condition" to master every morning, a different little person to nurture and securely guide through each day...every morning. It's pretty darn exhausting I tell you.

 

All of a sudden we are doing loads of gagging and then inevitably, throwing up again. Last Sunday we attempted to sit with Sam in the baby room during the Church service as it was empty.  Sam has not been in there for a while, maybe two months at the most, but there was a stage where that's where we sat with him every Sunday. Everything was going okay until I decided to move from the chair onto the floor with him, again what we would usually do most Sundays. And for some reason transitioning onto the floor has now become a major gagging trigger, even here at home since then. 

The v-wording thing is really hard for sure but Church being a gag/defensiveness trigger? Without a doubt one aspect I could least come to terms with. 

 

And as baffling as Sam revisiting his extreme fear of being moved around (we did this almost exactly two years ago when I struggled to get him into and out of his carseat, etc) is this....

 



 

For the first time in twenty-eight months he is quite comfortable with moving from his knee-walking position into sitting on the floor again..all on his own.  Not only that but about a week ago Sam started standing up, completely unsupported, on the bed.  I've tried desperately to take a pic but I am so scared of losing sight of him and having him somersault off the bed that I haven't quite captured a clear shot yet.  He can only manage about 10-15 seconds but each and every day his balance improves and he can more easily right himself when it looks like he might topple over. 

 

So...to sum it up, having mom or dad lift him from the couch to the floor is an absolute gag-worthy No No! As is running water and the bathrooms and baby room at Church.  But suddenly sitting all alone is like so blasé as is standing up for the first time EVER!  Baffled? Yip, me too!

 

Sometimes I wish with all my heart I could simply ask Sam what troubles him and what I can do to make it better.

 

But I can't.

 

I don't speak Smurf :(

 



One of Sam's Christmas pressies :

 

I don't know how possible it is, but I do wonder if this really inexpensive gift has not contributed to Sam becoming so much more confident with the sitting and standing. Sam does ride the little pushbike quite well, way better than I expected, so perhaps it's possible? Regardless, it is beyond joyful for this Mom to see her little boy cruising around on his bike...just so normal.



 

 

We've made it through a very low-key Christmas and even more low-key New Ýear's Celebration, filled mostly with time at home watching movies, splashing around in the pool. In fact, I was so concerned that the rather hectic change in Sam's routine was causing some of the newer gag-triggers that Sam and I did not leave the house for almost seven days, apart from quick trips down to the Spar and the like.  Well that and the fear of having to add a few more destinations to Sam's list of places he has vomited!!!

 

WISHING YOU ALL A TRULY BLESSED 2014.

MAY IT BE AWESOME XXX

Sleep Wars & V-wording

 

Different for sure is our little smurfy dude.  Still totally thrown by having his little world rudely interrupted by all things Christmas. Up until Friday evening we were surviving on very little sleep, most of the night spent with distressing (mostly for me) bodybashing and a seemingly aggressive itch (without any visible rash to justify it) which bothered Sam for hours, resulting in him scratching his skin open in some places.  By Friday, desperate for sleep, we went off to the pharmacy hoping to fill a longstanding script we have for Aterax, which we first used for Sam when his sleeping problems began but quickly found that, while effective the first three or four nights (as with many meds Sam has taken) the fifth night usually ends in a major fail when the med has the adverse effect and Aterax was for sure one of the most true to this pattern. The pharmacist advised that Aterax has been unavailable for some time but, with it being for shortterm use, suggested some Allergex syrup (Chlorpheniramine). Well Friday night Sam managed eight wonderful hours of sleep, Saturday night nine hours and last night an awesome eleven hours and 50-odd minutes!!! Despite my better judgement, we've gone ahead and tried one more night but regardless, just having three nights of decent sleep has us feeling almost human again. 

 

Sam's current anxiety/sensory mix is still Faverin in the morning and Clonidine in the evening.  Even though the Clonidine doesn't really help hugely with the sleeping issues, the combination of the two definitely makes for a calmer Sam during the day. That is, when we've not upped his social exposure and aren't having a much-needed braai (BBQ) with friends one night, off Christmas lightseeing the next evening and traipsing around the night market the very next. Perhaps three consecutive nights was a bit much for Recluse Smurf and left him pretty much like so today...

 

And with heightened sensory issues comes heightened v-wording incidents. And we're saying "v-wording"because defensive gagging followed by various degrees of v-wording is once again a regular occurence during our day...sometimes caused by my rather slow transition back into being alert for triggers. Yesterday morning I took Sam into the Ladies restroom at Church and within a second realised that I usually only take him into the Disabled bathroom with which he is now familiar. Any unfamiliar environment remotely "clinical" has always been puke-worthy, even before the holidays, so only twenty minutes into the service we were leaving with a stripped little smurf and an armful of eau de puke clothes. #sigh 

 

Having our last PT session for the year last Friday, Heidi and I discussed Sam's rather dysfunctional balance and possible ways to help him adopt at least a vague sense of being able to keep his little body upright. For instance, Sam cannot keep his body upright when going down a slide...he instantly falls backwards. Even in the swimming pool, he just sort of topples over. Sam's been doing really well on working with the PT ball again which is pretty awesome and I chatted to Heidi about possibly trying him on one of those little push motorbikes, particularly because he seems quite fascinated with motorbikes and fire engines at the moment.  Fire engines are definitely his favourite, always accompanied by the most adorable signing of fire engine but while I would love to buy him a fire engine of his very own that he can ride on/in, we've gone with the toy motorbike. I think it'll be one of the first gifts he'll be really excited about...which of course makes mom excited too :)



Words and Steps

Having just finished supper one evening last week, chinwagging about this and that, Brampies wondered out loud what Sam would be like if he did not have RTS or SPD.

 

I said that I think he would be very intelligent, quite cheeky, have an excellent sense of humour, be rather mischievous, extremely demanding and strong-willed but loving and affectionate too, you know, kinda like he is now....just with words and steps :)

 

At the moment though, words and steps are not flowing in abundance. It's been more than 6 weeks since that solitary word and not a single one more. Sam had quite a major fall with his walker, which I thought would put that one to rest for a while too but, both strangely and thankfully enough, he was quite happy to use the walker again the very next day. Sam was doing quite well with walking while holding one of our hands and then seemed to become quite fearful again. We still try at least once a day to give it a go...sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. This evening I was in the bathroom, getting Sam's bath ready and out of the corner of my eye I saw a little person...just a single, little person...walking round the corner. Honestly, my heart simply stopped...I couldn't move, couldn't blink...for a millisecond, until I realised that the single, little person's hand was actually attached to his, only then visible, Dad's hand. Disappointed much.

 

We are two weeks into our six week school holidays here, with the 2013 school year having ended on the 4th December.  There have been plenty of award ceremonies, concerts, recitals and all the other year-end happenings...most of which Sam did not tolerate all that well.  He lasted all of about two minutes into Meg's ballet recital before Dad had to head home with him, screaming and pulling hair like...uuhhmm, a kid with SPD actuallly. At least I got to stay till the end #Yay 



 

A recent addition to Sam's list of "hostile"sounds is water. The sound of the waves at the beach now freak him out, the sound of a sprinkler going, the water hitting the ground when Brampies or Dad waters the lawn. No less alarming, was the sound of the garden house filling our little pool for Summer.  So much so that Sam had a mini-anxiety attack every time we needed to walk past the pool (now full) over the next few days. Until we managed to coax him in of course. Then every time he saw the pool he asked, with his most charming sign language, to swim. Even on the way to OT one not-so-sunny morning at 9am.  And of course the moment he spots Meghan taking a dip, he requests so desperately to join her that there often isn't even time to grab his swimming trunks. Meg, being the awesome big sister that she is, has been very accommodating so far...

 

 

 And then there's this...

 

The little smurfy dude has taken to watching his Mr Tumble dvd's like this. Any time spent off his knees is welcomed, nevermind how darn cute he looks. He hasn't quite tried to "sail" along the furniture yet, but just having him feel comfortable enough to stand up again is quite huge. Baby steps, right? 

Remember remember the 5th of November,

A day which brought joy equal to no other!

Sam has a book. Scrap that. Sam and I have a book, well several of them by now. He has this really interesting need for me to draw things relevant to whatever we might be doing/watching.  For instance, if we're watching Mr Tumble I will have to draw the spotty bag, Mr Tumble's house and occasionally even Mr Tumble himself.  If we're counting, I'll have to draw numbers. If we're sitting at the kitchen counter I'll have to draw the things he can see...the chairs, kettle, etc.  To be fair, most of the drawings are fairly hideous due to the rather challenging pace at which they need to be drawn, but certainly do reflect Sam's obviously vivid imagination as often I see absolutely no resemblance to the object of focus in my drawing, yet Sam will gesture excitedly in confirmation. 

Recently Sam has taken a liking to the biggest, most amateurish (and, needless to say, most embarrasing) of these books accompanying us out in public and I dare not leave home without it.  Driving while he pages through the book for the millionth time can be quite challenging as he expects me to acknowledge each page when he taps it enthusiastically.  On Tuesday on the way to fetch Meg from school was such a moment and while I try to (sometimes) fake a quick glance and guess what he might be looking at, in an attempt not to pancakerise the newly hatched goslings wandering around the local pond, I failed to even fake-glance.  After hearing him tap the page exaggeratedly, a small smurfy voice suddenly beckoned. "Mamma"

Any overshow of excitement with Sam usually ends in him crying so it took every ounce of self-control I could muster (and trust me, I am far from abundant in self-control with these things) to calmly stop the car, turn around and say "Clever Sam", acknowledge the drawing of Tinky Winky's bag he'd been trying to show me and then continue driving on to the school focusing through tear-filled eyes.  Once we got to Meg's school I straight away tried to get Sam to repeat it, but all he could manage was his usual "Vavava", with which he seemed just as pleased...
 

  

We've yet to hear another "Mamma" but believe me when I share that I attempt, several hundred times each day, to help Sam's brain find the path back to that wonderful place.

 

Sometimes the depth of Sam's sensory dysfunction completely blows my mind.  It took almost a whole year before Sam mustered up the courage to crawl down the really very short passage in this house, into our bedroom where he would sit in front of the mirror playing his drums or doing silent renditions of Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes (given away only by his actions), but suddenly about three weeks ago he became too fearful of entering our room again. The other day I decided to remove the curtains we'd hung over the blinds as they seemed to make the room too dark.  Within minutes Sam crawled into the room to admire himself in the mirror.  I did a quick calculation and realised he'd stopped coming into the room when we'd hung the curtains. No wonder moving house knocked the kid sideways...and a little to the rear too :)

 

Ah, sleeping wars...an ongoing battle indeed.  There was no substantial negative on nights four and five of the Clonodine, just that it doesn't work every night. Wednesday was a good night, Sam fell asleep within 20 minutes and only started bodybashing round 5am. Last night took the all too familiar two hours of bodybashing and a violent nosebleed before he eventually fell asleep, only to start thrashing again round 2am.  Makes me wonder if the Clonodine is contributing at all. Sam's system seems to have the most warped habit of doing well on a new med for the first four/five days and then somehow Smurfanity prevails and blows the new med out the water...or blood. So we've done Epsom Salt baths, Rescue Remedy, Valerian Root drops, Melatonin, Neurontin and now Clonidine. Honestly, could there be anything else to try? Perhaps I need to try all of these things together? On me!! Heck, there's a thought...with any luck I wouldn't even be aware of any smurfy bashing going on.  Hehe! Just kidding.

 

Rolled himself to sleep in a pillow pancake ;)

 

We're still trying to limit Sam's kneewalking but it becomes more and more difficult with each day as he grows increasingly frustrated, not only at having his mobility and independence curbed but also because most of his self-stimming is done on his knees. After Tuesday's little moment, I wondered to myself which of the two would be the most beneficial to Sam, if we could somehow guarantee that he would at least master one of the two, walking or speech...I think we'd definitely opt for speech, but still remain hopeful for both xxx



Tumblemania, Relocations....and poop

So at our paed appointment last Thursday we discovered that Sam's sole surviving little testicle has, in fact, checked out of Motel Scrotum and travelled up North :( Doc Paed does not seem all that concerned about it, hopefully it'll come back "home" on it's own...

 

Two things Doc Paed did seem concerned about were Sam's knees and Sam's rather very full-of-poop gut. Little pus-filled pimples have formed on Sam's knees from all of his knee-walking and with his completely refusing to use his walker lately, Sam is spending more and more time walking on his knees which causes the little pimples to break into little sores.  Doc Paed advised that the little open sores could become infected and the infection could then travel into Sam's joints. I tried sewing felt-filled patches onto his pants but a) the patches move too much as he crawls and flaps when self-stimming and b) it looks like its the actual friction between his skin and the fabric (regardless of how thick the fabric is) which is causing the problem.  So next solution...keeping Sam off his knees.  The first couple of days went relatively okay but Sam has become really frustrated at not being able to "walk"around as he's used to.  Also, for physiotherapy reasons and his forever tightening muscles and tendons, limiting his mobility is not the ideal solution.

 

So I decided to try modify Sam's walker, hoping that he would once again feel safe enough to spend some time in it...

 

 

 

...and it seems to have done the trick, to a degree. Despite Sam looking like he has one epic wedgey, the bit of cloth he can feel around him definitely makes him feel alot more secure and he's spent a fair amount of time in the walker over the past few days. Yesterday he and I even played a little walker soccer! From a physiotherapy point of view, providing Sam with a "crutch" is perhaps not the most suitable way of getting him to walk. But from a SPD point of view, sadly, as we get closer and closer to Sam's 5th birthday and with no really fabulous improvements with most of his anxieties and fears I think we're moving further and further away from Sam walking independantly one day.  So if having a little bit of security in his walker helps, so be it.  I'll give the fabric a rethink to find something more durable but without being uncomfortable. 

 

As for the poop - when Doc Paed examined Sam on Thursday, Sam instantly flinched when he touched Sam's tummy. An x-ray revealed that Sam's gut was absolutely filled to the...uuhhmm, brim (?)...with poop. So we've more than doubled his Movicol intake and used suppositories for two days, which is about as many as we'll get to use as that little butt instantly clinches shut now. Sam seemed to be doing quite well with more solid foods lately, but obviously his digestive system needs to catch up with his sensory self....so we're back to very pureed foods. 

 

A long while ago Doc Paed prescribed a med called Neurontin for Sam, to help with his increasingly-forceful body bashing at night. I was a little sceptical about the Neurontin as when googling it, I read that it was initially intended to treat epilipsy.  But as Sam's body bashing became more distressful and his left hip started "clicking" again, which it hasn't done for some time I decided to give the Neurontin a try. 

 

Oh my hat!

 

The kid didn't move....I didn't sleep! I lay awake making sure he was breathing, occasionally turning him so that his body didn't cramp. #eyeroll  But on the 3rd morning, Sam woke up with the mother of all moods and Morning 4 only got worse.  Mentioned this to Doc Paed who quickly came up with an alternative...Clonidine. 

 

Oh my hat!

 

While the Neurontin helped Sam stay asleep and free from body bashing throughout the night, it didn't help him fall asleep and this is when Sam does his most damaging body bashing. It has been taking Sam as long as two to two-and-a-half hours to fall asleep sometimes.  We started the Clonidine on Monday evening and Sam has fallen asleep within 20 minutes every night so far.  Night 4 is usually the defining night, so let's see what happens tonight. 

 

Random Smurfy News : About a month ago, a friend gave Sam three *Mr Tumble : Something Special* dvd's.  Have you seen these? I can't say I found Justin Fletcher particularly entertaining in Jollywobbles and Justin's House...perhaps because I am just a teeny bit over the age group of the targeted audience? But in these particular movies, Justin works together with some pretty adorable children with special needs to create a fun way of learning, using Makaton throughout the movies. Sam is besotted.  He watches absolutely nothing else...no Teletubbies, no Barney, no Tweenies...just Mr Tumble, for which he has formulated his own "sign' and has picked up many of the proper Makaton signs.  I'm almost a little disappointed that I hadn't started Sam with Makaton right from the beginning as he seems to be grasping these signs far more easily.

 

 

 



 Random Smurfy pic :