Search This Blog

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Conclusions and Musings

Ellie is definitely not having the summer break I planned for her to have and I couldn't feel worse about it.  We were going to go swimming every other day, work on eating, the whole house was going to get labeled in a word extravaganza to beat the band and on and on...

All of that has been out the window because of me being stupid and signing up to teach a graduate course in my capacity as an organizational psychologist not realizing how much work that would mean for the month of August when Ellie is out of school. And then of course there is the matter of Dave mutilating his left index finger. Such a bummer on so many levels. 

The good news is, he had the reconstructive surgery on Tuesday and the doc was able to save most of his finger right down to most of the finger nail!  Way more than he expected. I can only attribute that to Dave's generally strong constitution and the hyperbaric that he did every day in the between time when we were waiting for the finger to "declare itself".  That word "declare" brings me right back to the NICU when we were waiting for Ellie to "declare" herself - translation - whether she would live or die and if she lived what sequalea would follow her injury. Other NICU parents may have heard that word too. I don't think I will ever get over that NICU experience when just one little word can take me back. (Did I mention this post was going to be a bit of a ramble...?)  Luckily insurance will pay for most or part of the Hyperbaric oxygen treatments which tells me the actuary science behind all insurance is smarter than doctors in this matter.  Of course the doctor did not believe it about the HBOT helping - but who cares. I know it helped. The bad news is he is in allot of pain still  - percocet dreams for him now.

It's weird seeing him all loopy on the drug but way better than him being in pain. It's so funny after it kicks in I can tell all is right with the world. He'll comment on the beauty of small things he doesn't usually notice. He's such a gentle soul and a sweet person. It's really cute.

The bad news is that he won't be able to lift Ellie for a long time which means he can't look after her - he can't be left alone with her. So just when my career is getting into a higher gear, not sure which gear, but definitely more active than in a long time, he is taken out of the carer picture. It's bad in the sense that when I am working on site with clients I will have to leave sometimes at 6am. What are we going to do?! Sigh. My head is bowed in awe of all single parents, especially those of children with extraordinary needs.  I am in the process of finding people to help us. Not easy finding folks with the ability to deal with a non verbal kid, cute as she is, with CP. Luckily it looks like there are some angels in my corner and I am interviewing a new person tomorrow. Timing really stinks or is really precise from a karmatic perspective - however you want to look for it. At the end of August seems to be when all the people who help us from time to time need  a break. 

So right now when I need to be putting my lectures together and firming up my syllabus, do I take advantage of the fact that Ellie finally went to bed before 10pm? No, of course not! I decide to procrastinate instead. I have all my notes and draft syllabi's in front of me. My computer is set to go with perfectly blank page waiting and ready to absorb the flotsam and jetsam from my mind. But alas, I am writing this post instead -- which is a true sign of the pressure. Procrastination is my MO. All this writing should get me going - right?. Oh and did I mention Ellie has decided that between 2am and 5am is the best time frame to wake up screaming and wanting me and then once the reflux subsides she waits for Dada to come in too. Which of course he doesn't because he's dreaming on percocet. 

It's karma for Dave taking care of me all last summer after my knee surgery. Maybe he needed a break? Maybe it was time for him to have an enforced rest?  Either way, things are crazy. I don't think I am taking this as gracefully as I could. Always something to work on in my own development and unfoldment as a very flawed human being. Yup. And I just heard Ellie now on the monitor tossing and turning. GREAT. I can tell right now it's going to be another hard night where she decides she doesn't want to sleep at all. Is this all about being stretched, what doesn't kill you makes you grow stronger stuff? Or is what doesn't kill me just going to continuously kick my ass for the next little while?

Obviously this post is a rant. Just wanted to check in and let you know we are all still here in various states of consciousness slipping up and down the survival scale as if it were some sort of amusement park ride. 

I truly hope the end of your summer is going way better than ours!


4 comments:

Bird said...

Just posted myself about all the things I want to do and how hard getting them done seems to be. And I don't even have a job. If I could, I'd come over and label your whole house for you.

therextras said...

Other messages like Bird's will mean more than mine on the homefront. What I can weigh-in on is the huge burden of teaching a graduate course. You definitely have my sympathy on that. And if I knew any magic for that....here's hoping you can muster some yet untapped motivation for the job at the same time that you find an excellent caregiver for Ellie. "Organizational psychologist" eh? I won't be advising you on procrastination behavior. Barbara

Anonymous said...

Supportive warm thoughts your way
Rick

Percocet Prescription Medication said...

My name is Monica Stone and i would like to show you my personal experience with Percocet.

I am 35 years old. Have been on Percocet for 7 days now. It did help the pain but the side effects weren't worth it. I'd rather have the pain.

I have experienced some of these side effects-
nausea, very itchy, racing heart, anxiety, flashing lights(almost hallucinogenic?), weird dreams, tiredness

I hope this information will be useful to others,
Monica Stone