Monday, December 10, 2018

Avoidance

It's 10:15 on Sunday night and I am sitting by my desk at home.  It is the one night a week I allow myself to sleep at home when Sonzee goes inpatient, specifically because it is Sunday night.  Not much happens on a Sunday night at the hospital, so it is "safe" to let Sam stay.  I only sent one reminder text to have him make sure the nurses wore their masks when they changed the tubing on her central line, so I think I am doing well.  The washing machine and dryer are running their cycles, there are lullabies playing in the kids rooms, and everything is calm; except I have already stopped myself twice after I swore I heard Sonzee's seizure sounds and I felt my stomach fall. 

This happens every Sunday that she is inpatient and I sleep at home.  I don't understand why my mind cannot take even a few hours off.  Once I hear the sound, the panic fills my body and it takes so long for me to talk myself down.  My thoughts start to bounce all over the place.  I sent Sam a text and of course she's snoring away with some soft music playing in the background, calm as can be, so that should give me some comfort.  Yet I feel like it is never really about the "seizure sound" when she isn't around.

The "seizure sound" is merely a lightning bolt that matches the internal struggle of chaos I feel over every admission she undergoes.  Most probably because they are never straight forward simple admissions.  They are always weighted and involve "small" but really massive changes.  Her admissions are the times I am unable to ignore the medical complexities that are very much a part of her daily life.  I have no choice but to actually face reality when she is in the hospital, and I would much prefer to stick on my smile and say "she's okay", "she's Sonzee", or some other simple pacifying phrase.  I dislike the nagging panicky feeling that accompany the majority of the situations with her life, and I really dislike when there is no way to avoid dealing with them.

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Monday, December 3, 2018

That one time...

I am not the most comfortable when it comes to direct sales, it makes me uncomfortable to send personal messages on Facebook, send texts on my phone and put myself out there, yet I became a Younique consultant over the summer.  Truthfully it was really just because I wanted a discount on the makeup products I was going to be buying anyway.  My sister thought it would be fun to do live videos on Facebook, and we started off doing them semi often, but then life continued to happen and we really haven't been doing any.  They are honestly fun to do together and we have a good laugh or two, which is really the entire point, neither of us really emphasized the selling component of the makeup, but if it happened, it's a perk.  Then about 3 weeks ago a friend of mine who has purchased mascara from me told me about a vendor fair that was going to be taking place yesterday, and for some reason I said "This sounds like a great idea".

Over the last two weeks a lot has been loaded on our plate in regards to the direction of Sonzee's care.  It seemed as if things were unknown and up in the air for so long and then all of a sudden the logistics came together, yet mentally nothing is actually cohesive.  I would be lying if I said everything was surprise, yet I would also be lying if I said everything was not.  While some of what lays ahead are based on the recent situation where we became aware of just how fragile her bones actually are, the other things are based off of conversations and care conferences that have been occurring for months, and topics that have been discussed for literally years.  In addition to everything that is going to occur she has been sick and missed an entire week of school, and my emotions and thoughts are really all over the place.

As I sat in the room yesterday with various vendors, it was only fitting that the makeup counter from Nordstrom was placed across from me one table over, their setup taking up two long tables.  Women who have clearly done these sort of events before.  Women who brought those fancy makeup chairs and wore the makeup brush aprons.  I wanted to leave the minute they began to set up their table.  After all, it was the first night of Hanukkah, I was missing attending the candle lighting with my family, and we only have 3 nights of Hanukkah as a unit before Sonzee and I fly solo on the 8th floor of PCH for g-d knows how long.  I felt guilty I said yes to this event, I felt angry that I didn't stand a chance at selling anything when I was missing out on crucial family time.  I felt upset and scared about everything that is coming our way.  So there was that one time that I sat at my first vendor event, wondering what the heck I was doing there in the first place, in front of complete strangers and my close friend and cried.  And then I wiped away my tears, acknowledged that it wasn't about the vendor event, made some friends, and even made a sale.

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Monday, November 26, 2018

Wrong

Yesterday was a big day in our house as we celebrated Sonzee's baby brother's first birthday (officially it is Wednesday, although I am still in denial how that much time has flown by already), and her biggest brother had his final championship game for ice hockey (that we did not anticipate his team qualifying for).  It was a jam packed day, but filled will the typical chaos that comes with life of multiple kids; except for the fact that overshadowing it all was that Sonzee has been sick since Friday with the medically complex version of a common cold and she spent the entire weekend in her room, missing it all.

The saddest part was not even the fact that she was missing from the festivities or that she won't be in any of the pictures from the day, or that she spent the entire weekend rotating pain/fever medications and having constant seizures (which is not her typical "sick routine").  The saddest and worst part of the entire situation was that, I have come to expect this in our life.  The disappointment and sting was not as strong as it once was.  This has happened so many times, it is now part of our typical.  I was just beyond thankful this was one of the Sunday's she happened to have her nurse, so she could stay home and in her room to rest quietly and neither Sam or myself had to miss out on the festivities.  Despite the normalcy of the situation lies still a blanket of guilt.

Guilt that it is okay for us to go on our day without her present.  Guilt that we are used to it.  Guilt that there was relief in having her nurse care for her.  Guilt that life continued to go on without her being there with us in the same room.  Guilt that I didn't cry over the situation.  Guilt that it was better for her to spend the day in her room and not with the rest of us.  Guilt that this is her life.  Guilt that there is nothing we can really do to help her.  There is just so much guilt.

I was partially proud of myself for not letting the situation get the best of me, but partially upset that I didn't.  It continues to be a common recurrence, especially as she gets older and each time I am unsure what reaction is right.  I know nothing about our life is really normal, so there is "not really a right"...but it all seems to wrong.

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Monday, November 19, 2018

If only

It was "one of those days" yesterday.  Sonzee's seizures were nonstop, she cried when she wasn't having them, she slept after she had them, she was in visible pain when she was awake, and she was having a very difficult GI day.  All in all, by 5pm I was trying (unsuccessfully) not to cry by my desk and by 6:30pm I was officially over the day.  I managed to get myself under some sort of calm by adding makeup into my shopping cart and posting an epilepsy awareness post; at least the latter makes me feel like I am doing something to help.

It does not feel like it has been that long since I have been in this position.  The one where everything between the last melt down and the one on the horizon becomes too much for me to keep bottled up and eventually I turn into a New Years champagne bottle being opened.  I know this is all just part of the repetitive cycle that comes with the situation, but I hate when it gets to this point.  Within the next 24 hours I will no longer be able to hold in the tears; it is ok, it is time for them to come anyway.  By Thanksgiving I will have be able to smack a smile on my face and almost feel the same behind the scenes, and by next Sunday I will have pulled myself back together to face the next unknown period of time.

If only this was not the reality.  If only things could be easier for her and I did not have to watch her suffer so often.  If only there was a magic potion that could be created to completely fix the damage that has been created and will continue to be by her mutated CDKL5 gene.  If only I could close my eyes, go to sleep, and wake up to a Sonzee who was born with a complete CDKL5 gene.  If only prayers such as the ones I have relied on for the past 3 years 9 months and 8 days could actually come true.  If only. 

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Friday, November 16, 2018

Preparations...continued...

I sat down to write this post last night after the word "preparation" kept running through my mind.  I knew it would be the perfect title for what I anticipated writing, but I also felt like I had used the word before as another blog post title.  Funny enough that only a couple of months after I began blogging in 2015 my first post about preparations was written, and 3 years and 4 months later this post rings eerily true and similar as we embark on another path of uncertainty.

It is a weird experience to keep repeating similar but completely different situations.  The groundhog day effect aura lingers but each challenge, each discussion, and each decision is ultimately independently determined despite the influence of the past.  I find it fascinating that no matter how many times we go around this merry-go-round I am no better off prepared to make any of these life altering decisions.

Every day this week I have been playing out the best case scenario of what could come in my mind.  I am partially proud of myself for (apparently) still having some hope and faith I was not aware I had, and partially annoyed with myself for even attempting to think that things could actually work out in reality how they are in my dreams.  I do not have the stomach to even consider the worst case of these decisions because it is just too much for me to even process.  Too loaded.  Too much guilt.

I just keep telling myself that we are doing what she needs.  We are making our choices based on what we feel is best for her overall quality of life and well being.  We are making our choices with HER best interest at heart, and so to quote myself, "[I] have to trust myself and my knowledge, and pray that I have enough of a foundation to get it right."


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