Eli's rough stretch is still going strong. He had a rough night last night and beeped alot. This morning after being off his feeds for 1 1/2 hrs his blood sugar was 171. Which for Eli is ridiculously high. Endocrine called. We chatted. A one time sugar like that isn't to concerning but if it continues they want to begin further testing and his HGH (human growth hormone) will need to be re-evaluated.
His new bed also came today. It got here early so he was able to take his 1st morning nap on it. He did great! Stayed perfectly in the right position and slept well with only ONE O2 drop!!! We are looking forward to seeing how he does tonight.
His primary medically complex doc called me to chat. Never a good sign. He was concerned about the fact that he got a refill request for the robinul. He thought it had been stopped. I was told it wasn't going to stop until we had the care conference and had a clear plan in place. He said that they were working to get the care conference set up and that there was more to the trach than because of Eli's need for the robinul to be stopped. They want it for secretions, for his central mixed sleep apnea, and apparently because they are feeling the need to get a clear cut long term care plan in place for Eli as they still strongly believe that the underlying issue here is progression. From the sounds of his doctor they have all already made their choices and are just hoping to get Bob and I on board.
This worries me. It worries me that they are planning for and thinking ahead. I know that "ahead" is there but I try not to think about it, I sure don't plan for it....Okay that is maybe a lie...I sure don't plan for it out loud. Please don't crucify me for saying that, but it's true. As a mother of a kiddo like Eli I know what the future can hold, what it is predicted (guessed) to hold, and what the possibilities are. There aren't scenarios rushing thru my mind of Eli walking across the stage with his diploma in hand, walking down the aisle with his bride on his arm, or being present at my funeral.
In the top of my closet there is a box, the weight of it is immense. It is full of books, books given to us by the hospital, by social worker and doctors and nurses. Bob and I know they are there. They are for that moment, that time where life is uncertain, where there is no turning back, no fixing it. They are written for children, they are to help understand life and death and all that is involved. The thought of them terrifies me on a daily basis. As they and EVERYTHING else are always in the back of my mind.
What terrifies me even more is that the doctors are so willing to talk about and plan for the future. They say these things outloud. They say them to me and Bob, they write them on Eli's charts, they discuss them together with all of his care team. They try to keep us grounded, keep us knowing, understanding. They try to push us to think like them, to talk like them.
I can't do that. Each conversation takes another piece of me, it takes another piece of my little man. Words spoken can never be taken back. I don't want these talks, I don't want to be grounded. I want to wrap my arms around my little man and my family and float off into the clouds, flying freely all around, immune to "care plan meetings".
This is what I want. This is not what I will get. I will prepare myself. I will prepare the only way I know how. I will go to the meeting and listen, I will talk, I will argue and push, I will negotiate and try to compromise, I will beg and plead, I will present evidence and emotion, tears will fall freely...Ultimately I will not win, my little man will not win, in all honesty the doctors will not win either, Mito will win...After the meeting I will return home and do the only thing I know to do, crumple into my husbands arms, cuddling my little man until his head is soaked in my tears....I will talk to those families closest to us, those who understand what it's like to never speak these horrible thoughts outloud....
....and finally then I will make formula, pull meds, clean syringes, run spo2 monitors, apnea monitors, bipaps, O2, walkers, wheelchairs, OT, ST, PT, sign language, AFO's, SMO's, glasses, hearing aids, and books....Eli's favorite....books. I will read them, touching the pages, signing the pictures he sees, laughing with him, hiding behind them, and reading them over and over until they are so worn out that we have to re-buy them. After so many books the words from the meeting begin to fade and the lines begin to fade on if they were actually spoken or if they solely existed inside of my head....This will begin to help the pain again fade back to manageable...until that next dreadful meeting.
The cycle is torturous....for bob and i, for our older 4 children, for our families and friends, for Eli's doctors and nurses and therapists....But we push forward, just as Eli does in his day to day life. Eli is truly my hero. He is the strongest person I have ever encountered. My children are strong and amazing and supportive and so madly in love with their little brother. Our community is amazing and without them we wouldn't be able to make it thru each day. I hope one day I can be as strong for all of you out there as you all are for me, for my family, for my little man. Thank you.