Back from the doctor...

Now what!?!

One thing that I loved about the Little Man's last doctor was how thorough he was. He was the ONLY doctor to ever look in to blood sugar levels, due full blood workups, and to do an EEG.

There is a big correlation to bipolar and certain types of seizures. His doctor requested an EEG back in August to rule out these seizures so that we could move forward in his treatment plan (ie: start him on a mood stabilizer that is also an anti-seizure med and therefore mask seizures if he was having them). I believe his EEG was done on the 4th of August, right around there anyway. After that time he was started on Depakote and his behavior improved dramatically.

When we went for the EEG the tech was great - he was wonderful with the Little Man and tried hard to ease my fears. He was very chatty while hooking the boy up to wire after wire (using the 'bird poop' to stick them to his hair). I noticed at the end that his demeanor changed, drastically. I even spoke to my family about how nervous I became due to this mood shift. They all assured me not to worry, and when I never heard back on the test - I did just that, not worry.

I was told that if there were issues on the EEG that I would hear back in a matter of days with a game plan for moving forward. I called 4 days after the test and was told the results were not in but that I would be contacted if there were concerns. I never heard back and then I forgot all about it.

At the doctors yesterday I inquired about the results. What I was told nearly stunned me. She read the report, told me about the spikes, the low seizure threshold, and the part at the end that said "Clinical follow-up is necessary". What???? My kid is having seizures and I was never told? It's been four months!

As soon as I got home I called neurology and sat on hold for ages. I finally gave up and called the pediatrician instead. Our pediatrician was voted one of the top 100 doctors (the only pediatrician on the list) in Seattle for 2007 - we LOVE him! I left a message with the nurse and should hear back on Thursday from him (if not sooner). I need to know where we go from here, whether we follow-up with him, get referred to Children's...what?

There has got to be a silver lining in all of this because the Little Man's plate can't hold much more. From the parent side of things - I almost wish for seizures. It would be much more acceptable in the 'real' world, the world where people are cruel and say mean things in public when your child is having an episode. I know people think that the bipolar is an easy out for his behavior - something that I try not to hide behind. People think that he should be able to control the bipolar, if it was a seizure, they would never expect that of him.

Maybe this will be a big answer to a lot of questions.

And Here We Are...

It's been six months since I brought my baby home from the hospital. I would love to paint a picture of roses and sunshine but bipolar does not allow me to do that. There are many times that I feel our life is ruled by this awful curse and that if I could run faster or pull harder we could rid ourselves of it.

The weeks and months after the hospital stay were brutal. He came home overdosed on medications, falling asleep on the path at a park, smacking his forehead from electric impulses that were surging through his brain when we took him off the medications from the hospital. It was all I could do to let him finish out the school year, it was trying at best and he nearly did not make it.

Summer found us moving in a courageous Grandma and her dog, allowing the Little Man to spend his days at home rather than at daycare. By the end of summer, another hospitalization seemed imminent as Grandma, the neighbor children, and I were all battered and bruised. He lost friends during this time and has worked his little tail off to earn them back. It's been a long road but he came out on the other side.

School started in September and we have found that the Little Man THRIVES on schedule and routine. He began to soar in first grade - making huge strides in reading and phonetic spelling. It has been an amazing sight to see, it would be for any mother, but even more so for me knowing what he has overcome in the past year.

His teacher is God’s gift to me. She is my Knight in Shining Armor and appears to be one of the Little Man's biggest advocates. You see, her daughter was in the same hospital as the Little Man last May, they were there at the same time. This gift to me, she does not merely understand what our life is like each day - she's lived it.

I have relished in the ease of the past 2 1/2 months, at times taken for granted how wonderful and almost angelic it has been. Gone are the egg shells, the pit in my stomach when I drive to daycare each night, the anticipation when his alarm goes off in the morning. I no longer have to question who the child will be that I receive, he is happy, he has his smile back, and that laugh that comes from the deepest depths of his core. Unfortunately, these times never last long enough. They are on borrowed time and I never know when they may end.

Two weeks ago, the Little Man walked downstairs and in to the kitchen for breakfast. The first thing he said was "I HATE the smell of the soap in the dishwasher!” That was my red flag, I knew it would be a matter of time before the peace was gone and replaced with fear. He has gone downhill much faster this time around; daycare again is a challenge for him - the lights, the sounds, and the busy-ness of it all. He is having trouble at school, even regressing academically. He is getting placed on a behavior plan and his parent/teacher conference has been replaced with an IEP review.

Yesterday was the worst. Before I even got out of my car the children from daycare were yelling to me all the things he had done to them that afternoon. On my lunch I purchased a new slip cover for the couch. When he got home he sat on it and then said "You bought this at Target. I can smell it." He becomes super-human when he is unstable; he smells things no one else can, he hears everything, and his strength is beyond compare. I couldn't imagine the assault on his body that he must be feeling at the moment.

We go to the psychiatrist on Tuesday, a feat of its own. His psychiatrist recently left the country, now we are left scrambling to find a new doctor. Tuesday I will enter this appointment armed with years of history in hand; hopeful that this new doctor will agree with the other six about the diagnosis – as controversial as it is. Then I cross my fingers that she also agrees with our treatment plan and will make immediate adjustments to his medications. A lot rides on this day – our future depends on it. For now I will dig in my heels and hold on for the roller coaster that we are embarking on.

I’ve never been a fan of roller coasters.