Burnt.
Spent yesterday afternoon in hospital again - on a cardiac ward with my dad. He’s going to be fine once they figure out what’s wrong with him. (They actually did an angioplasty, but it’s “not the plumbing, might be the electric.”) I rushed down from work in the afternoon. It was very stressful. Hence I had to get up to work at 4 this am. Just to prove that I Care. Also so I can leave later today.
If I never have to be in a hospital again, it will be too soon. If I strangely receive eleventy billion dollars I am setting up a fund for people to get time off AFTER the crisis is over.
Today is Emily’s 6th birthday, except of course, she’s dead.
The news yesterday was ALL ABOUT Isaiah’s parents making the same decision. Every time I walked past a television (in the HOSPITAL) this story was on. WTF universe?
We’re supposed to be leaving for the Briars which I DESPERATELY NEED but this thing with my dad…at least the Briars is only about an hr out of town. It was originally chosen for its proximity to my obstetrician of the time, so. I think we are leaving. In a few hours.
My assistant at work quit (for greener pastures) and in the traditional of the Common Media Era we’re in, no replacement is forecast. Which means work hell. I should be grateful to have a job, esp. one which permits the odd trip to the Briars, and generally I am. But this wrinkle is going to be a hard one and going away in the middle of it, when she was going to handle stuff, is not happymaking.
Noah is the best thing ever. First, he is recovering. Hurrah for children who survive! Second, he is just a great age (well…every age is great). Yesterday he was planning his activities for the Briars and planning to say “goodbye!!!!” to his friends. We explained we are not moving there, just going for 5 days. And that then he has a bit of time off for March break. But then he goes back to school. His response?
“Harsh! [proper teen tone in that one] That sucks! - Right mummy?”
Hee.
A little crow
Y’all know I don’t cross link between my real name and this blog and I much prefer to keep them fairly separate. But I accept that one day someone may blow that out of the water and there will be a big ripple effect. Hopefully today is not that day, although I am going to make a minor little self-promotional peep.
If one were to read the NY Times Motherlode blog today one might find a guest blog there that has details that sound awfully like my life. :) Well it’s not a /journalistic/ credit or even a true op-ed but it is still the NY Times. Woo hoo.
Bonus convo (and now we are…4.5)
Noah [re: snag in his plan for playing]: Bummer!
Me: Hey, we said bummer was just fine as a hospital word. But we’re not in the hospital any more. Maybe there’s a different word? Disappointing?
Noah: This SUCKS!
…
Isolationist tendencies
Some people, when life gets difficult, call up their friends and/or family and bask in the kindness and love of their inner circles.
And then you have me (and Carl). I basically unplug from anything I can — voice mail piles up; email stays bold — and only come out of my cave to comment on completely irrelevant things, like what is it with Let’s All Hate Toronto.
Anyways, we spent this past weekend back at Sick Kids. Noah had been recovering fine overall, if you count nightly nightmares, falling out of his pants (he has lost 11 llbs! over 25% of his body weight!) and a tendency to go white with fatigue by 4 pm recovering (and we do). But then Thursday night he seemed to be getting very restless and warm in the night and then Friday morning he threw up and spiked a good high fever so down we went. I admit I fully expected to be sent home with a laugh about the stomach flu.
Instead everyone agreed he looked awful and that his stomach was distended. After an IV placement, an ultrasound, needle, and several blood draws, we were about to be free. Unfortunately one of the blood cultures also came back positive for staph (staph! in my baby’s BLOOD!) so we also spent Saturday there waiting to see what else would grow, replacing the IV, and getting antibiotics, and Sunday pretty much the same. In the end, the staph was a contaminant. It is fine.
Before I go on to the real wounded party in all this, Noah, I will just peep that I am bone-tired exhausted. I did go to work yesterday and was able to work at about half my usual speed; today I’m working from home and taking a turn with Noah. We are not ready to release him into the wild yet, as the consensus is he needs rest.
I am also really put out and angry. Being at Sick Kids in the present you do, in fact, realize how lucky you are. You pass kids with real problems all the time. Noah is going to be fine. We have walked out each time. The staff there is wonderful.
But being at Sick Kids also harkens to losing Emily. It just re-engages that wound at full force, simultaneous to worrying about staph in the blood!. So it becomes a roulette emotional game. Scared for Noah! Sad that Noah is having to get an IV! Relieved the child life specialist comes in to help explain/distract! Oh wait Emily had a little sticker like that on her central line!
Anyways, tired.
~~
Noah…wow. In the first experience with the appendectomy I learned so much about my child. He is weirdly stoic about any internal pain; right up to when they decided to give him morphine he insisted that he was only having a “little” tummy ache, despite the sky-high blood pressure etc. He was helpful and polite and extremely brave, particularly if anyone would explain anything to him (to the x-ray tech at Centenary who took the time to explain x-rays and show Noah how the “robot” machine moved all around the room, blessings).
However my child hasn’t had any procedures other than vaccines and exams that he remembers (he did get his heel stitched up at about 1 year of age) so the first “real” needle he got was an IV placement into his hand…that failed the first time, digging around in there, and so his second one was into the vein on the side of his wrist where it all hurt very much.
It broke his trust and it was heartbreaking to see the change; he had always regarded nurses and doctors as superheroes and now, I am afraid, he watches them like they are the alien in Alien, dripping with acid and containing extendible body parts that might at any moment stick him with a needle, insert a suppository dose of Tylenol, or put him to sleep whereupon he will wake up with a tube down his throat gagging him and a tube in his penis, the most sacred of private areas. Or hold him down during a seizure and poke a needle into his finger to get a blood sugar count.
Which, you know, all happened.
Lynn would say with a calm accepting pride that Noah has steel and that it came out in the hospital and I guess I would have to agree although I would say it with regret and sadness. When the chips were truly down and he was so miserable that he would not speak (unfun around a NG tube anyway) or make eye contact, hovering between despair and anger, he chose anger.
Mostly at the parent who delivered him into the nightmare - his mum. And was he ever furious. When daddy came into the room he would make eye contact and ask to be read to, but I was persona non grata.
However this did give him something to focus on and maybe even draw a little strength from. I see what Lynn means and why it makes her glad — although I don’t really want trauma in my son’s life I do sometimes think that a little anger can go a long way in having the energy to deal with sad trauma. Lynn, of course, doesn’t waste any time getting all fussed about the “why Noah?” question; for her the amazement has been that the trauma has not arrived sooner.
Noah also had his own TV even in the ICU and he zoned out into that thing like I’ve never seen before. It was quite something.
Anyways, Noah did eventually start to treat with me again. First he would hold my hand and then he’d look at me, and then the real turning point came when my mother (of all people) got herself a Burger King kids’ meal and it came with a toy from the Incredible Hulk movie. So I told Noah about this guy that turns green and stomps around when he’s angry and we invented a little game where Hansel and Gretel have a house (the next toy someone went to get from BK) and beg and plead the Hulk dude to leave it alone, but he smashes it down and then Holmes on Homes comes to fix it.
(Yes Jung would have a field day.)
Sick Kids has a lot of wisdom in its care and gives kids a lot of space for their feelings, which all helped the emotional side. Noah got very into going to the playroom (each unit has one) and it was hugely well stocked with clean toys and games (with all the pieces!) and a huge art cupboard. Volunteers came around and offered to play with Noah, both for his benefit and to give us a break (we said no but appreciated it). And every nurse and doctor took the time to talk to Noah and explain things.
And Noah did respond, eventually, as if perhaps these people might be of his species. Maybe. But at any moment an alien might burst forth from their bellies.
And he came home and had nightmares and was getting comfortable when…we had to go back, and get more pokes and IVs and everything else. He’s now gotten the opposite of stoic - freaky? - about anything to do with his skin. Even putting on numbing cream (which they use at Sick Kids) was a production.
The good thing about having to go back, if there is a good thing, was that he did visibly relax once he wasn’t getting tubes. But it was still rather awful.
This time, we left Sick Kids with a live child
But - it was a little too close for comfort.
Tuesday night: Stomach flu
Wednesday night: First ER visit, sent home with confirmation of stomach flu.
Early Thursday morning: Second ER visit (local hospital); Get This Child Some Tests STAT.
Thursday morning, 9 am: Likely appendicitis, prepare to transfer to Sick Kids. IV insertion.
Thursday, 11 am: Noah has a seizure
Thursday, 3 pm: Noah is transferred to Sick Kids by ambulance with a nurse (and Carl)
Thursday, 3:45 pm: Noah has hives all over his body as a reaction to something
Thursday, 7 pm: Decision is made to just operate
Thursday, 8 pm: Noah enters ER
Thursday, 10 pm: Wow that was a really burst appendix and a belly full of infection, but Noah is ok - has a tube in his nose to his belly, a catheter, and morphine, but is ok
Friday, 2 am: Big fever, pack in ice
Saturday - ICU; Noah throws up a lot until they figure out his NG tube is kinked way up high where the x-ray they’d done to look couldn’t see
Saturday night - Noah discovers Treehouse
Sunday - transferred to room, eventually catheter is out, NG tube comes out; Noah discovers COOL PLAYROOM on ward
Tuesday- home we are, 6 pm.
Exhausted. Weird to be back on the sleep-at-Sick-Kids schedule. Carl and I were pretty shut down until it was clear Noah was leaving, and even so, I don’t think we’ve processed the fear. The seizure was AWFUL AWFUL AWFUL and from there until they got the NG tube sorted out I don’t think we could think about much, either one of us but definitely me. Constant obs (icu) is soooooooo like a NICU.
Have managed to stay employed thus far although still have a ways to go.
It was traumatic and scary for Noah. I was very sad to see his faith in the world get soundly shaken up. There is a whole post in that. But one of us was there the whole time, no exceptions. Hopefully we can help him through the feelings and hopefully we started.
Noah is really doing well physically and even better emotionally; I have some pictures of the recovery. Sick Kids is amazing amazing. More later. We’re ok.
Drama III, Robert Munsch, and more
Last weekend I took Noah to the Robert (Bob) Munsch reading at Chapters. Munsch hasn’t been doing too many readings; he had a pretty major stroke at least a year ago and so I had sort of given up on the idea that Noah would get to see him. But, he did - along with 220+ of his neighbours at this end of town. It was quite energizing to be in a group of people who had all rushed out for a reading. That is my tribe. The publishing industry is in chaos, but Mortimer remains.
Noah had a blast, after all the waiting. The waiting was looooooong.
~~
Friday Noah had his doctor’s appointment to follow up on this anemia thing and we have a requisition for more tests. He has had a vitamin most every day and I have been food combining like mad - beef and lentil and kale stew, for example. (Liver is pretty much out for a variety of reasons.) We also have switched over to cold cereal a few times a week, so as to get all the additive iron in it.
After that, Noah and I had made plans to go to the museum together; I’d actually booked the whole entire day off work. Just before our doctor’s appointment who called but my mother; apparently the ex-communication was lifted.
Before I knew it, another system member had invited her and my dad along to the museum. I was pretty grumpy; not only was this supposed to be Our Day Out but I thought there should be penalties for all the shit. However, I didn’t care enough to call back and cancel. I have told myself:
- One trip to the museum does not entirely wreck boundaries that have not yet been set.
- I get bonus karma points for not going off on my parents.
However it still doesn’t sit right with me. But the truth is, I (and others) had not done the system work to get everyone on board with a plan, so no plan was implemented and the good girls took the day. This is both human and multiple; I think it’s human to find yourself doing things you wish you hadn’t. But it’s multiple to be really REALLY sure you’re not going to do something, and find yourself doing it anyway.
The person who went ahead is part of the MMC, which is a whole other post.
In any case, it actually was a nice day regardless. The museum was pretty quiet, and Noah hooked up with a docent in the kids’ area and uncovered a whole bunch of dinosaur bones in the dig-your-own spot and she helped him figure out which each one was.
~~
Noah’s swim teacher remains excellent. In three days he’s gone from dreading the lesson to crying that it ends too soon, and has put his head underwater and swum a bit holding onto a noodle.
~~
Taking the day off was really good for me. There is so much to like at my job, but the other parts are horrid. I don’t have a strategy in place. But I do need to exercise ’cause it really is high stress.
Le drama, II
And happy birthday Madeleine!
I spent three hours at dinner with one person (my mother) giving me the cold shoulder and complaining and being not very nice. Never said, you know, happy birthday.
In front of my four-year-old.
I don’t know. Now I regret having been the bigger person and not having told them just not to come. I’m actually regretting staying in contact for the years they kept the chairs I TOLD them I had been sodomized over in their home, and everything since. Well, not everything. We have had good times. But I am so angry.
I’m not really sure how you call someone on this. Another vote for therapy I guess.
Le swim, and drama update
So last term we signed Noah up for real swim lessons - in a group of 6, with two instructors. I had trouble getting into the interface on the critical day (swim lesson registration starts at 7 am and is basically over before 9 am) so we ended up at a local pool in a high school, which meant it had old tile, and was over Noah’s head except where the instructors created a little platform using the wheelchair lift.
It wasn’t a disaster by any means, but it wasn’t a great experience. The boys were kind and caring, up until the last few weeks of class when they seemed to focus pretty exclusively on getting the kids to pass. Noah wasn’t quite ready to pass and eventually this led to a dunking incident (no one’s fault, more just Noah slipping) and some tears. Also, Noah slipped on the tile floor in the change room and got a pretty serious concussion. (Which was one of several reasons he was ‘behind’ at passing-the-level time.)
So this term I signed him up at a better pool and for private 15 minute lessons (the city helps make this relatively inexpensive as far as private swim lessons go). Today was the first day and he really did not want to go. He asked us to cancel the lesson last night and this morning.
So here’s what we did. I said he didn’t have to swim, but he did have to go to the pool and meet his teacher and let him/her (turns out to be a her) know. And that we would bring along his swim stuff just in case. Then Carl and I both shared our early lessons, and also all the things we can do since we know how to swim (kayak, canoe, windsurf, etc.)
Sure enough, once we got there and he saw the other kids, he went along nervously. And then when he saw his teacher he was really happy. She was wearing a hijab (as well as a full-body suit) and honestly I think he finds that comforting. I think I do too at this point…it’s funny how our prejudices develop.
~~~
For the drama, my parents are apparently speaking to me again. Nothing changed but time.
We are going out for my birthday tonight (tomorrow is the actual day) and I have slid back into not dealing with it - yet. I do want to take it up with them that they can’t do this.
But I’m not quite sure how to do it, and I haven’t had the energy to sort it out. This is where it would be helpful to be in therapy.
Now, I am the Master
It’s been a bit of a drama-ride here the last few days.
I didn’t realize it, but since Christmas Day my parents have felt slighted in some way. I’m pretty sure it has to do with not having activities with Noah arranged for them (I left it at “call anytime if you want to come over or do something”) and Carl’s mother being here. But, my parents stopped taking my calls, some of which would have led to specific invitations. At a certain point I worried that they were okay, so I emailed them and my dad called with his version of events. (”Your mother and I are very disappointed.”)
In the language of other families this might be minor, but in the language of our family this is a signal from my mother (with whom my father always agrees; agrees being too weak a verb here - it’s more like “into whose interpretation of the world my father always enters”) that she is displeased and that steps must be taken. (By others.)
In therapy we dealt with a number of these kinds of episodes and my therapist occasionally recommended that we sever, or severely limit, contact with my mother. I’m never sure how all this looks from the outside but from the inside, that is me and Carl and Anna and others who have been involved for years, it seems to be pretty clear that this kind of thing is disruptive.
It’s disruptive mostly because the offense, whatever it is — and I will state for the record that I think in families we do often trip over each other — is never outright expressed. You are supposed to know what you did (and weirdly, you often can tell from the way the phone rings that something is brewing). It is always your fault and never a miscommunication or a shared problem. And it is your job to fix it. And until you do, affection is withheld. And you never really know when this will happen or over what.
It’s been a few years since something like this came down, particularly over the holidays, and I admit I had dropped my guard. I made my mum a pretty special dish over the holidays and I had spent a fair amount of time sourcing her gift and basically, I felt like I had put the effort in. So it was a surprise that in her mind, I suck. So one of the reactions I’m having is related to the cold icy water of it. I have in the past deliberately avoided my parents from time to time, but this week wasn’t one of them. Had they called up, I would have happily made plans. The last plan that was made was Christmas Day and I made it, so I sort of felt like I’d done my part of the family thing.
Second though, what’s upset them is that they didn’t get time with “our boy” (this last phone call took place with three full holiday days to go, so they could have still had time even after the initial sulk). In making that the reason for the drama of the season, they’ve involved Noah. Oh, not in any huge way that at his age he would notice. But it’s unacceptable. It enrages me. I have been doing yoga and deep breaths for three days and I am still angry at 6 am.
I probably sound overblown when I say that but had they called and said “we’d really like to take Noah out” and I’d said no, then they would have a point. But to be sitting in their lovely home making shit up that they don’t get to see him, poor poor them, is making him the source of narcissistic supply. And I think, although I am trying to figure it out before I do anything stupid, that this is actually my true gut instinct informing me of this fact, and not just bad feelings from the past. I may be wrong, but I feel it. And I am angry on a level that I rarely achieve.
And finally, they are just not grateful or respectful to me. I am not a perfect person, but I am a reasonably caring one who does her best most of the time. And despite the fact that most Christmases between 1973 and 1985 I was being raped and abused literally under their feet, and that since then my mother has had many many holiday dramas about not getting nice enough presents, not being cared for enough, etc., I continue to put myself out to try to include them. And yet, I continue to be the closest available target. (And yes, I think part of the drama is because they have continually avoided their own work about that abuse by creating drama at precisely this time of year.)
If I were not a mom, I think I would finally have come to the point my therapist was hoping I would come to where I would say no, enough. Enough. However, I can’t just fly off the handle and cut them off without considering what the best path is with Noah involved. He loves them and I think they love him (I was sure, until this little passion play started).
But man this year it hurts. It just hurts. Noah’s at a significant age now where I watch him and I know that I was being abused over Christmas at exactly the age he’s at. And that’s hard. And work has been hard this year. And it’s the season of Emily. And my birthday’s next weekend. It’s never the best time of year for me. And they’ve chosen now to pull one of these stunts. I think I’m a little beyond achieving my usual “accept them where they are” zen on this one.
I’m still not sure exactly what my response will be, once they deign to be back in contact. I am sure that they have damaged our relationship and that I am no longer willing to pretend that these things don’t. I know that we need boundaries. But I’m not sure what they should be or how to set and enforce them. I’m not sure what’s best for Noah. A monthly visit supervised by Carl? I don’t know. It sounds cold and harsh. I don’t want games to be played with my child - and I don’t want to play them.
One interesting thing (and hence the title of this post). I did realize that the scales have tipped. If I wanted to raise the drama bar and win, I think, for the first time, I could do it. I hold the ace card (access to Noah) and the fastest communication tree (Facebook) within the family. But, I won’t. I have to find the line between protecting myself, and making it okay for my child, and making that clear - and behaving as if Noah’s time is something I mete out for good behaviour. That I do not wish to do.
I’m feeling rather lost; hopefully this is how one gets found?
Seeking balance
If I had to characterize 2009, I would say it was a year where as a nuclear family, Carl, Noah and I really found our footing. It helps that Noah is 4, of course; at 4 one can say “I need to make dinner. Would you like to help or go play for 20 minutes?” and generally have one of the two happen. (Parenting tip: The third option is play playdough right next to me; the fourth option, for very bad days, is eat tuna sandwiches after a 15-minute cuddle.)
But it’s also that we’ve got our groove back. We laugh. We have fun. We get (most of) the chores done without resenting each other. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company, in all our various configurations of 3! (that’s a factorial; am I not impressive?)
Sometimes I think the magic grieving period is five years. I still acutely miss Emily and experience all the emotions associated with that, but I am regaining bits that were shut down to cope. And I see that Carl is too. I’d like to continue that this year, but it really is the highlight of 2010. I feel like we are a functional and loving and respectful team.
I’d also say that 2009 was a period of social pulling back for me. I’d reached out to find mom-friends, and this year I lost the energy to properly nuture those relationships. I would like to change that; the challenge for me is that as I’ve regained these lost bits of myself the more time I can sit with myself, and the less time I spend socializing. I am a strange bird that way. I would like to seek some balance, perhaps by doing something as simple as inviting people to come look at art with me rather than just doing it with Noah alone.
In that gray area between socially sanctioned family and friends lie of course the Ell (Idaho) gang, with whom our relationships have continued to deepen. I think one of the surprises this year has been that we’ve been able to do some practical things together (goal setting and tending) and it’s been inspiring. It feels very solid.
With extended family most relationships have been good. After watching my sister go through her hellish, hellish, hellish pregnancy and then make the transition to parent I have a new respect for her. Visiting her in August was great. I’m also continually awed that my parents have raised two people with such different styles. My sister gets me in a way no one else does, but we joke that in some ways we’d be good candidates for a Wife Swap (the TV sort, get your minds out of the gutter) because our homes function quite differently.
Work has been the hardest, most amazing wild ride. I have never loved a job this much and hated a job this much, often on the same day. I’ve learned about myself that I have a hard time when I’m not a rising star, and I’m not, yet, and I’m not sure I will be one ever. I over-identify with it, or at least I have this year, and that’s when I do my worst work.
I am not sure yet what I’m going to do with this information. Since my industry is sort of a dying one (if the phoenix will rise again, no one quite knows how) I find myself at almost-39 on the cusp of a pretty crazy midlife crisis. I have a job I’m not sure about, but there’s not really much of anywhere to go without a huge change. It’s all so stereotypical, and given that my job is actually soaked in the experience of the exact same thing it’s one of those matches made either in heaven or hell. I suspect that this year I’ll find out which and either part company, or become better at it in a puff of magical purple smoke. But the most important thing for me personally is to release expectations and find some Zen. This is not my forte.
Physically the year was a bit of a draw. I am not as sick as I was last year, although no one knows why I was so sick last year. I have now had my whole torso scanned except for a mammogram and seem to be growth-free, but I have had Bad Juju Symptoms. I have eaten overall really well - locally, seasonally, mindfully, with lots of nutritious veggies and whole grains and lean meats - but I also have eaten extra snacks that were not healthy. And for exercise it hasn’t been a great year at all.
Also I have gotten pregnant and not stayed that way, and of late not been able to get pregnant. This is kind of the last year for that, I think, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Carl and I have always taken the approach that we don’t want to get on too much of the ART wagon, and we have Noah and life is sweet. But we still have those two empty spots at the table - Emily and Baby X. And now that I’ve seen Carl blossom as a dad I think he should have 10 kids.
So here are my thoughts on 2010:
- write a minimum of 20 minutes 5 days a week, with at least 2 of those focused on the new book, which is actually going well
- walk during three lunch hours a week at a bare minimum; play outside at least once a week with Noah (or at the pool if the weather is really bad) work out at least once on weekends. I know this sounds very small but baby steps.
- limit work’s space in my mind outside of work, but focus on work at work. But take lunch breaks.
- keep the family stuff going, the CSA going, etc.
- invite friends in to the things I do
- make an appointment to discuss ART with my doctor
[And as for Noah's anemia/allergies/whatever, we have a follow-up appointment on Jan 22 and I am going to put my foot down about a blood workup and get one, and also seek a referral to an allergist. This holiday he has been jolly, pale, tired out at the end of the day (although we have had fun-packed days which can be tiring) and totally turned off by any food more caloric than cucumbers, unless it came from Santa. We hide the meat in the broccoli. I'm not really kidding; I shred the beef and toss with the the broccoli.]
But my #1 goal is gratitude. I’m a striver which is not a bad thing, but right now I think it’s getting in the way a bit. One can appreciate the now and not always be worrying. I found myself frothing at the mouth a bit in online communities over Christmas presents and gratitude and I think that like most rants, I was mostly talking to myself. So this year I am also going to appreciate what I have.
All the best to you, dear reader, in 2010!