sleep, daddy toe, psychosomatic symptoms

O to sleep. Not too much of it going on around here. Want to help us out? Send a nap:). Sy has never been a real solid, through the night sleeper. We have lamented about this on and off through the last year or so, but I guess continual interrupted sleep does prepare one slightly better for a situation such as our current one. It is understandable. I would most likely need to be medicated to sleep if my body stayed in one position all the time. He doesn't complain. He just has needs. To snuggle; probably Sy's greatest desire at night. He squirms, he insists on holding hands, he puts his head as close to my face as he can get with a fiberglass cast in the way. I want to hold him too, almost physically need to, like when he was a baby, but it is giving my body some serious aches and pains. Somehow, Sy has a 6th sense (even while sleeping) for when I roll over. "Nooooooo, I need you to face me...I need to hold your hand." So, for the last three weeks, I have slept on my left side. This is good if you are pregnant or if you need to perfuse your body through the night . Neither of these apply to me. My shoulder is screaming, but I am going to try my best to keep my mouth shut about it (except for the blog of course) because again, I can imagine how uncomfortable it must be for him. So there is snuggling. Then there is needing to pee. He goes in a urinal, without complaint or problems, but he does need help to do this...glasses, light, where is that urinal?, try not to get any on the cast or the bed, "are you done?" "now?" "how about now?" Dump. Rinse. Sleep? Then, then, then, there is the "Daddy toe." This is the great toe on the right, non broken leg, side. The "daddy toe" hurts Sy, especially at night. We can only speculate...he gets toe cramps?...he over uses it while scooching around?...he broke it?...It's numb? Whatever the case, the "daddy toe" often needs to be rubbed for varying snippets of time throughout the night. Also needing to be rubbed is the "itchy spots." I am compliant with this even if I just fell into the nicest, deepest sleep with a dream about tequila and avos on a mexican beach. Seriously, one of dante's level's of hell has got to be a place where you have itches you can not scratch. Ahhhhhhhhh. I am compliant. He gives me the basic location, I reach my finger in the cast crevices as far as I possibly can and rub/scratch until I hear "BEEP." "Beep" means we have relieved the itch (o yes:) or we can not reach it and he is finally ready to give up. He needs and deserves the control over this, but I confess I am often asking "did we get it?" "can we be done?" long before he is ready to give the "Beep" sound.
And finally, there are the psychosomatic symptoms that plague all of us at times, but disproportionately affect the 5yr old sister of the household. Again, it is understandable. It is also trying to be empathetic to complaints that do not have a true physical origin. I never knew just how much having a job that requires me to be empathetic to sometimes irrational people would help with parenting. The most recent ailment involves an ankle that is most likely sprained or strained or possibly broken!!! The ankle needs massage. The ankle makes it difficult to walk here or there, go to gym, go to school. The ankle requires placebo medication and in the name of fairness, the ankle requires movie watching. In all fairness to O, this has been a major adjustment to her lifestyle and she has done very well all things considered.
It is a blog. It is where I vent. It is cheaper and more convenient than therapy. Honestly though, we are doing very well:).

Calus and relief

We returned to Rochester yesterday for a follow up xray. At one week, Sy's bone had moved out of place to its allowable limit. If the follow up xray showed more movement, we would be starting over with reduction and a hospital stay for traction. This would have meant increased pain for Sy and loss of sanity for his parents. I was more stressed out about it then I realized for when they looked at the xray and said it had not moved, I felt like I weighed less and could smile. Ahhhhh. There is calus (the new bone) forming around the break so it is very unlikely that the bones should move anymore. Hopefully four more weeks in the spica cast!!! He says his new leg cast is going to be pink! Watch out for this pink casted boy on crutches.
Tomorrow Sy is going to Olive's classroom for "show and tell.":)

green and safe, ironically

more for 10-3-07...

The accident in one big blurb of a story...

The 3rd started cool, crisp, and sunny. It was "green and safe" day at O's school so I was there helping out and Sy went to JLF with Aaron. I was two blocks away from the store on my way to pick up Sy when Lissa called. She said Sy had been hit by a car. I thought she said she hit a car. I started to ask if I could meet her somewhere to help when she said, "SY WAS HIT BY CAR." Anyone who knew me throughout pregnancy knows that I am well acquainted with sudden nausea and vomitting. Never before did the feeling hit my gut like it did when she said those words. I think I actually swallowed somthing back down but then she said, "he's fine." "FINE." Oh good, I'll pull up and he will be sitting there eating chocolate on the front step. As I was having this thought, I rounded the corner to see assorted rescue vehicles, the street blocked off, a gaggle of schocked and sickened looking JLFers, and pit of the stomach horror, my sweet boy strapped to a back board with a neck collar on having his clothes, his glow in the dark skeleton jams, cut off. OMG, OMG, OMG, he was screaming for me. That's all my focus became. Aaron was right there next to him comforting, but I wanted to edge him out. How immediate blame and grief and fear overtake a person...how could this happen? He was supposed to be watching him! He was in charge! Swallow, focus, cry, my face next to Sy's tears all intermingling. He needs me, I am here. He is screaming, he is alive, he is conscious. He is scared, I am here. So is Aaron. I am coming slightly back to my senses. They are splinting Sy's leg. I can't focus quite enough to tell what is wrong with it. I am needing to just look at his face, try not to cry and tell him he is ok.

At some moment, I look up and see faces. Twisted, hand over the mouth, teary faces. It is surreal. I just need to look at Sy. It is ok baby, it is really ok. He is here. He is alive. We stand up to head for the ambulance. One of the paramedics hands me a cloth as I have dog feces on my leg. Sometimes the universe has a way of showing you so concretely that life can be shit or at least have shitty moments. It is ok to laugh here. When they set Sy up on the back board in the park, they did so in a pile of dog poo. I knelt in it and had it smeared from my knees down to my feet. I care very little. I just want to hold his hand.

In the ambulance, I am telling Sy that I love him, that he is ok, that the ambulance is sooo cool and it is RED! Does he think the siren is on? I focus on his leg for a minute...did the paramedic notice that it was misshapen? Yes, he says, it looked broken. They start an IV. Sy is brave, able to talk about the ambulance. He says his leg hurts. We get to Luther. The ambulance doors open. Is this happening, really? Drew, one of the flight paramedics meets the ambulance. He is great, we are pals, I was at the birth of his last child. He says "jen, what happened?" I am comforted that it is Drew, but knowing him somehow gives me complete liscense to lose it. I am bawling, "he was hit by a car."

I work at this hospital . I have worked there for 7 years. I have heard numerous peds traumas called. They always make me feel a little quesy. I had no idea. We enter the ER room. There are 10, 15? people? They are all there for a reason. They are all there to help. They are overwhelming. Sy can't see them yet. I say this is going to scare the HELL out of him. He is probably fine. I am the one who is scared. He's in the room, they are on him...labs, xrays, trauma scores, morphine. I want to be near his head, he is screaming for me. A couple people try to hold me back near his feet. Ahhhhhhhhh, not ok. I focus. I know the CRNA. He is one of my favs. We make eye contact and he motions for me to come up near Sy's head. I am better. Sy is crying, saying his leg hurts, more morphine, he settles, we hold hands. Aaron arrives at some point, he is telling Sy he is there. We head to CT. I wear lead and stay next to Sy. Aaron goes with the flock of healthcare workers to look at the scan. In and out of the CT donut he goes, head, spine, T4, T6, down to the leg. Aaron tells me later it was cool crazy to watch how they could look and manipulate all the pieces of his head and spine. He says the leg looked very broken. The general surgeon/trauma guy comes out to tell me everything looks ok except for the leg. (Let me have an aside here to say how kind this guy was. Very good with the people skills, thanks er doc) My blood pressure drops, I breathe, I think Aaron rubs my shoulder, we look at Sy. OK. We have him, his essence intact.

We come out of CT. Tara is standing there. I melt, sob. Aaron told the chaplain that I work upstairs and was to work that eve. She kindly called upstairs to say I had a family emergency and would not be working. Somehow word got around and to Tara...it was comforting to see her. "He got hit by a car, but he is ok, " I sob. We head back to ER.

The orthopedic guy comes to tell us that we will have to go to Rochester to have the leg looked at. They like kids under 5 to be seen by a peds orthopedist. We have a few calm moments. Sy is resting. I drink a sprite and wipe the dog shit off my legs. Aa and I sit by the side of the bed touching Sy. He's ok I whisper. Aaron starts to cry. "He could be dead," I say. I say it in some ways to assure myself that he is not. Sadly, I say it also to compress this knowledge into Aaron in a way that will never escape his being. As if it wasn't already there heavy and hot as molten lava. I am so sad and angry and relieved and thankful. This could have happened anywhere with anyone. It could have been me in charge, but Aaron was in charge and he is sitting right there and I have to be angry at someone. Aaron is an amazing person, father. He has a long list of very good qualities he also, like all of us, has challenging pieces to his personality. One of these, in his wife's eyes, is an indignant defensive side when faced with his own shortcoming or wrongdoings. At this moment I need him to rise above, be remorseful in a way that allows me to lay blame for a moment and then, I think, I can move on. I know this is probably wrong and hurtful, but he complies. "I am sorry," he whispers. Thank you, Aaron. We both hold Sy and quietly cry.

The ambulance comes to take us the two hours to Rochester. I am going to ride with. Sy sleeps almost the whole way relaxed and somewhat comfortable with morphine. I am sending signals with my whole being for the paramedics not to talk to me unless it pertains to Sy. They are intuitive enough to get my signals. I spend the two hours looking out at the changing leaves, silent. Two hours of silence and then we get to St. Mary's.

Sy is awake, I am by his side. If I said HELL at Luther, I should have said something that started with the letter two previous to H in the alphabet when we walked into the St Mary's ER. Two hours of silence and now CHAOS, or so it seems to me. This is a high tech very specialized place. I am sure they know what they are doing, have done this millions of times before, but...CHAOS. The nurse who is recording everything is shouting out questions, the emt tries to answer, but since she doesn't shout they can't hear her. I shout for her, I can't help it, I know all the details intamintly. This is a teaching hospital, there are residents. Peds residents, ortho residents, general surgery residents, they all take turns leaning over Sy asking the same questions. I get asked three times where we came from. Then I get asked did they take xrays in LaCrosse? I snap, wound too tight, too fast. "We came from Eau Claire," I hiss. The general surgery guy disregards my statement. I am insignificant, he really doesn't care where we came from. Sy starts crying saying he is thirsty and his leg hurts. Various people yell out some orders. I can't take it, maybe it was the two hours of silence in the ambulance, I can't adapt. "I feel like no one is in charge I say." And then suddenly, less people, a low key peds guy is charge, the ortho resident starts explaing things kindly. The unkind general surgery guy says Sy can not even have his mouth swabbed out in case he has to go to surgery, but then he goes away. The nurse who was recording is really quite friendly once she gets on the other side of her recording podium. She thinks we should call child life. I think they think I am unstable. I start telling Sy about a made up train trip out west. He is calming except for the cries for water. He gets some more morphine as they prepare to re xray the broken leg. He freaks when they remove the splint and jostle him for the xrays. They give him some versed. He falls asleep holding my hand. The child life lady arrives, she is sweet. She offers books, to talk, some other things. I decline, all of it takes way too much energy at this moment.

And once again, the ER clears except for me, Sy, and the recorder nurse. We wait. The peds ortho resident comes to tell us we can go the preop holding. He is cute, he is kind, he is wearing some batman, spiderman or superman OR cap. The day before Sy had found a spiderman tatoo and we put it on his forarm. Sy thinks spiderman is a guy who is a spider with human qualities, I suppose. He has not read or seen much about comercial culture spiderman. Looking for anything to talk with him about, the staff has been fixated on his spiderman tatoo. All the people I mentioned previously, well, 75% of them asked him something about spiderman...did he like spiderman the best? Could spiderman beat up superman? Is spiderman the strongest? At one point, Sy yells "Ahhhhh, it's just spiderman." It is all too much for a kid who most likely thinks spiderman is a guy who spins webs to catch bugs for dinner. Despite all this, he does get a little grin on his face about the guy's OR cap.

Pre op holding is like another world. Sy is deeply asleep. There is one nurse, no one else. As we enter, the nurse from th ER suggests they give him a red and blue cast because he likes spiderman. Poor Sy, too asleep to say "Ahhhh, it's just a tatoo." The one nurse in pre op wonders if Sy is named after Sylvester? Yes, indeed. Turns out her father was brothers with the Sylvester Sy is named after. Hmmmm, I guess if the universe can show you very concretely that life can be dog shit, it can also show you there are unforseen angels watching. She asks me what color for the cast...green...for my Sy Green. The anesthesiologist comes out for an anesthesia/when did he eat last chat. They are ready to go. Take good care of him I say. He says he will and winks. I smooch, smooch, smooch his cheeks and sleeping eyes. He rolls away.

I am brought to control desk 1A. I am amused by the name. It is a huge waiting room. The desk is empty, the lights are off, there is no one but me. I am told a "controller" will be coming for me, hmmm, good thing I am at control desk 1A. I am amused again. I wait. I wait some more. An hour passes. I figure out how to make long distance calls with my credit card. I call mom, how is Olive? I call Aaron, is he almost here? I email some folks. The pre op nurse comes back and can't believe The "controller" has not arrived. She gets me a pepsi. It is so enjoyable. She comes back again awhile later and gives up on the "controller" she takes me to the room Sy will come back to on the peds floor. I breathe, sit on the plastic couch, and finish my pepsi.

green and safe, ironically to be cont.....

If I had a fairy godmother

A sweet sister says, "If i had a fairy godmother, I would wish for your cast to be off."

pain and pain

For 10.3.07
There is pain and then there is pain. There is smashing your finger in a door, cutting your foot on glass, a broken bone, a dental procedure, having a baby, and then there is hearing the words your beloved child has been hit by a car. A beautiful, energetic, loving, snuggling, perfect child; hit by a car. A child that I loved so much that before I even met him, I was yelling out "I love you, I love you " as I pushed him into the world. Hit by a car.
I am a Pisces. I live on the edge of beautiful poetic moments coupled with dark depressive undertones. I think I can feel the heart children imagine inside my chest, the one that breaks in two when hearing the words, "hit by a car." This dreamy water sign also hears thoughts as if they were written on paper in my head. Not always written well, grammatically correct, or even in a cohesive sentence, but the words are there and a blog is here. B-l-o-g. It is almost the perfect word for the way I need to purge this experience from my head with words. Welcome to this greenolivelife.