Sticks and stones and scooters

September 20, 2010


I didn’t break a bone until I had moved out of the house.


Once I was on my own, however, I sprained both my ankles, broke a wrist, fractured an ankle, chipped my front tooth, and damaged both my knees so badly I was on crutches for weeks. Not all at once, but over a few short years.

This could be why I give my kids a little more leeway than my own mother did. I’m not sure if there is any proof in this, but I’m hoping if they learn their boundaries and capabilities young, they won’t go through their twenties like I did.

Let’s hope I’m doing the right thing: Because on Labor Day, when Jilly fell off her scooter in our driveway and fractured her wrist, I was contemplating wrapping my kids up in bubble wrap and refusing to let them out of the house. It wasn’t that long ago that D broke his humerus, his elbow and pulled a bookshelf onto himself. And Belly has also fractured her arm when she was a wee thing; I think my kids are starting to push the envelope on injuries.

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And now Jilly: See her pretty pink cast? Thankfully she’s taking it in stride and will heal in a few short weeks, whereas my broken wrist took about 3 months when I was 29 years old.

I’m either getting all these mishaps out of the way while they are young or I’m just raising a bunch of hellions who know what the inside of the ER looks like really well.

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Drug-free zone

July 26, 2010


For the past week, I’ve driven my oldest child back and forth to a day program for kids with a whole host of issues: anxiety, anger, separation issues and one kid who likes to see people in pain (ouch). The purpose of this program is to “stabilize her” and teach her coping skills so that when she feels anxious, she knows how to deal with those feelings.


Did you see my quotes around “stabilize her”? That’s because “stabilize her” is another term for “let’s see how she’s doing on the drugs we prescribe”.

When I sat down to talk to a therapist on our child’s first day in the program, I was told that we’d both be meeting with the doctor that day. He would evaluate our child and tell us whether or not she needed drugs.

What percentage of children does he recommend medicating?, I asked with the same trepidation I felt when asking a doctor for his c-section frequency.

90%, I was told matter-of-factly.

Pffffff. Surely, he’d take one look at my daughter, talk to her a bit and realize she was in the 10% that doesn’t need a thing. She’s anxious, not jumping out of her skin. She has tantrums, but doesn’t punch holes in walls or hurt family members. He’d see she is just a little girl who could use some help finding her way.

I was wrong.

After 20 minutes of conversation with her, and a quick meeting with me, I walked out with a prescription for Risperdal and about 10,000 more questions, which I proceeded to ask this doctor over the course of the week.

Why this medicine? (it will stabilize her mood.)

Does she really need drugs? (not sure. maybe! it’s worth trying.)

What about these crazy side effects? (we have her on the lowest dosage possible. maybe she won’t have any side effects. thoughmaybeshewill.)

Shouldn’t we try therapy first? (um, yeah, in a perfect world, but insurance wants kids to be “stable” before we do therapy)

But this isn’t an anxiety medication! (I really have to get going. . .)

In all fairness, the doctor was very understanding of our hesitation, though when my husband called him with a similar list of questions, he heard the frustration coming through loud and clear. I don’t think he wants to talk to us anymore was the text I got that afternoon.

But, starting on Day 2 of the program, I was asked Is she taking her meds? from the therapists as soon as we walked in the door.

Nooooooooo. . .not until we’re sure she needs it, I’d lamely reply, not sure if I’m doing the right thing at all.

Our pediatrician backed me up though, so I didn’t feel totally alone. I filled the prescription and put it on top of my refrigerator in case we decide to use it, but I just can’t do it so early in her treatment.

And, here’s the thing: I’m not anti-pharmaceutical. I take five drugs to manage my asthma and allergies every single day. Some of the drugs I’ve taken have side effects that make me hesitate, but they work, and I can breathe. My kids are vaccinated and take OTC meds when needed. I know wonderful, smart people whose wonderful, smart kids have benefited greatly from medication.

But, to prescribe something after a 20 minute meeting with my child seems too quick. As my pediatrician said as I fumbled around to justify my decision: You are her mother. No one knows her better than you. No one is going to make a decision in her best interest more than you. Do what you think is best right now.

Though if someone came up to me with a little pill that promised to instantly turn her back to her old self without any side effects, I’d snatch it up in a second.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Kids, Fairly Odd Me, Health n Food Talk 44 Comments

Hope

July 22, 2010


I have no less than five posts started that are all completely and totally depressing. To say that the issues we’re having with one child’s anxiety are all-encompassing would be an understatement.


One post wonders if I did this to her. By homeschooling her. By being a Type A personality. By yelling too much or not paying enough attention to her.

One post struggles with my fear and sadness over what has happened to our family.


One post goes through our thoughts about the whole “medicate/don’t medicate” debate.

And then there are others that try to change the subject but all come back to the realities of our life.

But, instead, I’ll hit publish on this one.

Today, I have hope. I am allowing myself to see some light at the end of the tunnel, however dim it may be and no matter how often I may lose sight of it. We will get through this.

Even if I have to repeat this a million times, it will be my mantra: We will get through this. And we will be better, stronger, happier for it.
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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Kids, Fairly Odd Me, Health n Food Talk 32 Comments
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