Four weeks ago Calvin fell out of his bed and broke his right foot. He got the cast off last Tuesday and has been limping ever since. The doctor said this is to be expected, but it looks slightly swollen still, and he doesn't walk on it for any distance before wanting to be picked up. My fear is that it hasn't healed, so hopefully we can see the doctor again this week.
At the grocery store yesterday, Calvin asked to be picked up before I was finished getting all that I needed to get. I scooped him up between his legs in a sideways carry and pushed the cart with my left hand which also cradled his upper back. When we got to the checkout counter, I set him down gently and asked him to wait while I paid. He reached up to me and fussed, whined and hugged my neck, put his fingers in my mouth, grabbed my nose, and ravaged my hair, which had been tied loosely in a bun. I leaned down and gave him a big hug.
I mentioned to the clerk and the man standing behind me that my son had just gotten his cast off after breaking his foot and, to add insult to injury, that he was likely going to have a seizure in the morning.
“He’s a complex kid,” I said, and the man behind me, who had a twinkle in his eye, smiled.
I explained myself not for my benefit, but for theirs. I figure too many folks make snap judgements when they see a fussy child like mine. I figure it’s good if I can help raise awareness and encourage folks not to jump to conclusions or to judge.
At four this morning Calvin had the seizure I'd expected. When we heard Calvin screech, Michael and I scrambled to his room, untied his safety netting and lowered the side panel. I reached in to protect Calvin's feet, particularly the one he’d broken, from slamming against the side of the bed. Once I’d pushed them to safety, I grabbed the vial of frankincense and rubbed a bit on each toe and arch, at the back of his neck and at his temple, then held the bottle under his nose for a bit. The seizure stopped shortly thereafter, and he suffered zero aftershocks while I laid with him in bed.
Today, Calvin doesn't want to put weight on his foot. I wonder if he might have kicked the side of the bed when he first began to seize. I wonder if I made him walk too much or too far yesterday. I lament not having secured the safety netting the day he fell out of bed. I wonder if he'll every walk "well" again.
So, we'll spend the day indoors again where I'll watch out for partial seizures in the grand mal's wake. I'll keep him from staring at the sun and poking his eye. I'll give him a bath and offer him a nap, change his diapers, feed him his food, clean up his mess, give him his meds, and I'll carry him up and down the stairs to keep him from standing too much on his poor little foot.
At the grocery store yesterday, Calvin asked to be picked up before I was finished getting all that I needed to get. I scooped him up between his legs in a sideways carry and pushed the cart with my left hand which also cradled his upper back. When we got to the checkout counter, I set him down gently and asked him to wait while I paid. He reached up to me and fussed, whined and hugged my neck, put his fingers in my mouth, grabbed my nose, and ravaged my hair, which had been tied loosely in a bun. I leaned down and gave him a big hug.
I mentioned to the clerk and the man standing behind me that my son had just gotten his cast off after breaking his foot and, to add insult to injury, that he was likely going to have a seizure in the morning.
“He’s a complex kid,” I said, and the man behind me, who had a twinkle in his eye, smiled.
I explained myself not for my benefit, but for theirs. I figure too many folks make snap judgements when they see a fussy child like mine. I figure it’s good if I can help raise awareness and encourage folks not to jump to conclusions or to judge.
At four this morning Calvin had the seizure I'd expected. When we heard Calvin screech, Michael and I scrambled to his room, untied his safety netting and lowered the side panel. I reached in to protect Calvin's feet, particularly the one he’d broken, from slamming against the side of the bed. Once I’d pushed them to safety, I grabbed the vial of frankincense and rubbed a bit on each toe and arch, at the back of his neck and at his temple, then held the bottle under his nose for a bit. The seizure stopped shortly thereafter, and he suffered zero aftershocks while I laid with him in bed.
Today, Calvin doesn't want to put weight on his foot. I wonder if he might have kicked the side of the bed when he first began to seize. I wonder if I made him walk too much or too far yesterday. I lament not having secured the safety netting the day he fell out of bed. I wonder if he'll every walk "well" again.
So, we'll spend the day indoors again where I'll watch out for partial seizures in the grand mal's wake. I'll keep him from staring at the sun and poking his eye. I'll give him a bath and offer him a nap, change his diapers, feed him his food, clean up his mess, give him his meds, and I'll carry him up and down the stairs to keep him from standing too much on his poor little foot.
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| Photo by Michael Kolster |
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