Dear Addie,
No parent likes it when their child is sick or hurting. Add in high pain tolerance, lack of traditional communication, and odd sensory behaviors, and it can be the world's greatest guessing game of - is there something actually wrong, and do we need to visit the doctor?
At three years old, you had a dislocated hip, and we had no idea other than you were walking somewhat funny – I mean literally zero inclination of any pain, like none.
You enjoy drinking large quantities of fluid and hearing it slosh around in your stomach by breathing in and out super-fast - ultimately vomiting only to attempt doing it all over again. That's fun. (insert a heavy amount of sarcasm there) You also like the feeling of your stomach being super full… yup, it ends the same way.
You love bugs, particularly ants. Picking them up and letting them crawl on your arms & hand is your favorite, even if they are fire ants fearing their lives, biting their way out of your grasp. We have often had your hands (and feet) blown up like balloons from those little buggers. But again, you go about your business, balloon hands and all.
You see, Addie, as much as I would like to say emergency rooms are equipped and trained to treat kiddos like yourself, I have been in too many situations where they seem to be not. I get it; it is a spectrum disorder, so no kid is the same, but most of the time, it feels like the staff drew the short straw in helping us. NEWS FLASH: we don't want to be here either! I have been there with you for hours sometimes and only end up with us both leaving bruised, battered, and exhausted from your fear of the unknown and people being too close with no answers of why we came in the first place, which brings us to this past weekend.
It was Saturday afternoon when I first noticed it. You sat on the couch eating an apple, smiling, giggling, and breathing short breaths between each bite. Your happy demeanor would lead me to think this was a sensory thing and nothing to fret about, but I did comment to Daddy that this new breathing thing might lead to potential vomiting, so be on the lookout. You spent most of your day sitting outside on the ground where your swing once hung (a new swinging system has finally arrived and is up, but more on that later), playing with bugs. We took turns sitting on the porch watching you, but nothing seemed off besides some random quick breathing here and there, as your day was pretty typical. Around seven o'clock, we started our nightly routine of jammies, meds, and an after-meds snack of your fav - dry Life cereal. As you sat there eating, we noticed your breathing in-between bites had become far more labored than earlier, and your mood was a little more irritable. We checked for a fever which you did not have, but the breathing was starting to look more problematic than a sensory behavior at this point – so with the guessing game over, we decided to head to the ER.
On the way, the labored-ness of the breaths had died down a bit, but if we asked, "Are you sick?" you would respond with, "Sick, yeah." Same with "Are you hurt?" "hurt, yeah," but you couldn't do much to communicate after that. When we arrived, triage took you immediately and checked all your vitals, which all seemed good, including your oxygen, while you serenaded them with nothing other than "Who let the dogs out?" Yes, Addie, as crappy as perhaps you felt, you still managed to ask that ever-so-important question of "Who let the dogs out?" to anyone who would listen.
After being shown to our ER room and waiting far too long, in my opinion, the doctor finally came in and ordered a chest X-ray because your lungs sounded a little congested. While I was happy further testing would take place, I cringed at the thought of getting you to comply with an X-ray. We have been there, done that, not our finest moments. Dad decided to go back with you to try and help, and with that, I watched you and Daddy walk out of our room and down the hall, listening to the sound of your flip-flops smack against the ground echoing off the sterile walls. I feel like I blinked, and then I heard your flip flops heading back my way – yup, spoiler alert, the X-ray didn't happen, but they were going to try something different and have you sit on the gurney while we held your arms. This time, it was all hands on deck with Mom, Dad, and another staff personnel! You were still not exactly thrilled about the process, but the second time was a charm, and we got the images we needed as we settled in for our next adventure, to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And when the wait was over, we had guessed right that this wasn't, in fact, sensory as you had Pneumonia in both lower lobes of your lungs – Never a dull moment Ad, never.
Addie, I'm so sorry you were sick this week; I'm happy we got the diagnosis, medicine, and the hospital staff we did that night, as they were very patient, and 99% of them played into your song and responded to you with "Who? Who? Who? Who? Who?" Which made things a lot calmer for all involved. You managed your anxiety well through all the bright lights, sounds, and uncertainty which was just another gleaming example of how well you are doing in this chapter of your life.
We love you, rest up; you'll be back to yourself in no time.
Love,
Mom
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