Friday, May 14, 2010

"I Know Exactly What You're Going Through"

Rosie, one of Thomas the Tank Engine's friends
People are always telling me that they know exactly what I'm going through, and I think, they have no idea. Unless they have a disabled kid or an autistic kid, they have no idea.

Yesterday afternoon was really rough. What got me through is that I had some decompression time beforehand. Also, I now know that my son will not always be so difficult whereas he had been difficult all the time to the point where I was completely burnt out before we started the meds.

Yesterday I totally forgot about my son's neurologist appointment even though it was on my computer desktop. Somehow, I hit snooze and it didn't come back up, and I just totally forgot about it. My son came home from school, and I took off his shoes and jacket and he put his favorite toy, Rosie, one of Thomas the Tank Engine's friends, down in a location unknown to me.

Then I looked at the computer and saw that he had to be at the neurologist in a half hour. Doh!

So, I had to get his shoes and jacket back on, which he was not prepared for since he was in stay home mode. That means, he kept running away from me, slamming his head into the wall, collapsing on the floor, screaming, thrashing around, and doing everything he could to make sure that it was impossible for me to get his arm through even one sleeve. Having lots of experience with this, I was able to wrangle on his jacket. I swear sometimes I should be dressed in chaps and boots for this task. Then the shoes. He kept throwing his shoes and kicking. It took a very long time for me to get his shoes on. During all this, I also have to be aware of what my 19 month old daughter is up to as well so that she doesn't get into trouble while I'm distracted or get hit with a shoe.

Then we couldn't find Rosie. I didn't know where my son had put her. Later we found her on the kitchen counter, but I didn't think to look there. So, I had to try to get him out of the house without Rosie. He was screaming and crying pathetically for "Woe dee" and worked himself up into hysterics. But we had to go, and I tried to calm him the best I could with a quiet voice and tried to get him to take another toy, but to no avail. He was fixated, and I couldn't redirect him.

Then I had to get him down the stairs. Because he was upset, his sister was upset too. They both started flopping and screaming and crying and it was like trying to lead two large strands of spaghetti down three flights of stairs. But, I did it.

Then I had to get them into the car. My son was constantly pulling to run back inside to find Rosie, so I had to hold both of their hands in one hand so that I could use the key to unlock the car door because they both wanted to get away from me. Then I had to keep my daughter trapped between my legs inside the car door while I got my son into his booster seat, making sure that he didn't kick her with his flailing feet as he was still devastated at the absence of Rosie. He kept trying to pull the seat belt off while I was trying to get it on, and my daughter was trying to wiggle away. But I did it.

Then I got my daughter into her seat and we drove to the neurologist's office with the two of them screaming inconsolably. Then we got to the office and I had to get them out of the car and into the building. My daughter had calmed down by this point, but not my son. His tantrums can go on for hours.

I had to carry my five year old son and my daughter to get them inside and to the elevator. My son didn't want to go on the elevator, so I had to try to keep him in a semi-upright position as he tried to fling himself away from me. The elevator finally came, after what seemed like forever, and we went up to the third floor. We got off the elevator, and my son collapsed on the floor kicking and screaming because he's afraid of the height. The building is designed in such a way that there is a central atrium, and the offices are around the perimeter with glass railings so that you can see down into the atrium. He wouldn't move and tried to kick me away every time I got near. I was finally able to get him to walk to the office, screaming and pulling. We got into the office, and he was still upset and asking for Rosie.

Thankfully, we got called in almost right away, and then we had to deal with screaming, kicking, and collapsing because they wanted him to stand on the scale and use a stethoscope on him. In the meantime, he was trying to pull apart the blinds, play with the computer, pull all the wires on the computer, and play with everything on and around the desk. I dealt with this while still having to watch my 19 month old as well.

After the appointment, we had to get out of the office, and he kept hooking his feet on the door frame so I couldn't get him out. I eventually did and had to carry him to the elevator thrashing around again.

So, is this REALLY what folks with normal kids go through? Do you REALLY know what it's like to do that all day long every day? Really?

So, things have been much better since my son is on meds. This used to be my life every day with my son head banging my face and my daughter. Now it's only sometimes, and he never hits me or my daughter. It's still exhausting. I pray for strength and patience every single day.

So if I'm ever late, or I ever look like I just went through a war, now you know why.

1 comment:

the oakland samps said...

I just stumbled upon your blog and really like this post. I also have a special needs son and I agree that most parents have NO idea whatsoever. It is very hard to listen to parents with typically developing kids complain. I wish you and your family well.