Archives for April 2008

Not That You Asked

I was all set to complain about the EEG today; the instructions for the procedure clearly state that you should not allow your child to sleep the full night and that they should want a bottle during the procedure. So, they want your child to show up cranky and hungry. Charlie, however, took a nap in the car on the way over and was in a GREAT mood. It was our best EEG yet although they didn’t get any recordings of him sleeping.

I tried to discern something from the squiggly lines, but I’m no doctor. The tech raised one eyebrow once, but other than that she was stone-faced. Someone will call me in a few days after the epileptologist reads it.

So, rather than complain (since I don’t have any complaining to do), I’m going to talk about Miley Cyrus’ picture on the cover of Vanity Fair.

Here’s my opinion: It’s a picture of a clearly topless fifteen-year-old girl. Rather than blame the girl, let’s blame the photographer. I know that Annie Leibovitz is supposed to be a big deal and everything, but shame on her. You don’t take pictures of fifteen-year-old girls without their shirts on. It’s that simple. Maybe Miley was OK with it and maybe she wasn’t. Point is, she’s not at the age of consent. She’s not even really at an age where she can draw the line between “art” and exploitation. From what I’ve read, even parental consent doesn’t allow someone to take nude photos of a minor. There were about a gazillion photo people there and SOMEONE should have stepped up and said, “she not eighteen, you can’t legally do this.” I bet Vanity Fair has a lawyer on staff–didn’t anyone think that about this? It might be a beautiful photo (personally, I don’t think it is, but I’m no photographer), but that doesn’t make it OK to take pictures of young girls without their clothes on. If this wasn’t a famous girl and this wasn’t a famous photographer than this would be an issue for the police. Instead, people are asking Miley and Annie to give quotes about the photo. For crying out loud, she is fifteen and a very reputable photographer asked her to do things to get on the cover of Vanity Fair. If that isn’t manipulation of a minor then I don’t know what is.

My two cents.

PS: I’ve got new pictures on Flickr and a new video on Youtube. Let me just say, the Youtube video has me with wet hair and in my sleeping clothes. I didn’t know that I would be in the video too. Just try to ignore my heinous appearance and focus on the baby.

Not Covered in Med School: Parents Like Me





Brain Injury

But also. . .


Beer drinking

and Zen parenting.

The visit to the nuerologist was per the usual. We covered the basics, but we always ramble off into strange territory when no one is looking. She reminds me of the gals from Coffee Talk with her quick mouth and N’awlins accent. She doesn’t hold anything back, so you don’t have to either. You can tell her that you hate a certain doctor, or that you’re not interested in pursuing a course of treatment. Your opinion matters.

First, we get the two residents. At this point I talk to them like residents. I ask them if they’ve read the chart—I like today’s doctor who admitted he’d spent about five minutes with it. I had one come in once and ask me “what brings you here today?” Uhhh, that would be the massive brain bleed and multiple abnormal EEGs; not to mention the instructions to return in four months.

So, I did a lap to cover the back story and then proceeded to fawn over my child’s most recent accomplishments. Go ahead and get it all out when you’re dealing with the students because the “real” doctors are busy and will have very specific questions.

In comes the big doc like a whirlwind. The thing is, she’s so fast-paced that your thoughts get all jumbled and stuff just starts falling out of your mouth. For me, it’s a weird combo of my normal, dumb blonde talk mixed with a recently acquired medical vocabulary. The end result is I say things like: He’s freakishly hyper-reflexive.

I also mentioned that he has a Pavlovian response to stretching since he laughs whenever I do it. He’s so used to the singing that goes with stretching that he giggles even if you leave out the song. The doc finds this hilarious and wants to know what song I sing. Now I’m forced admit that I actually hum the tune to Clementine because I don’t know the words. Even better–now she orders one of the residents to Google the lyrics and print them up for me.

She fiddles with Charlie a bit, taps his knees and elbows and looks at him. She asks about his eye doctor, chides me about finding a new neurosurgeon, and tells the students that I’m the kind of mother who’s in complete control of my child’s treatment. She noticed that he’s doing a pretty good job attending to midline and told me to just keep doing what I’m doing.

We’ve got an EEG scheduled for tomorrow to make sure that he’s not having seizures any more. I told her that I didn’t care about the EEG and she said she completely understood—she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. I can understand that, so tomorrow I get to take a cranky, under-fed baby to have electrodes glued to his head. Sweet.

Report Card

What She Wore: black, v-neck tee; faded Levis; baby-blue tennis shoes. I didn’t really go anywhere, so the shoes were a bit of an afterthought.

What She Ate: Busted! Chicken nuggets. I’ll be good tomorrow, I promise.

Well, we last saw the neurologist in January. The visit was kind of rough with words like seizure disorder getting thrown around. The neuro did think that Charlie looked good, but things were still pretty scary.

Anyway, we finished our last course of meds over a month ago, so we’re checking in tomorrow. I decided to list all our accomplishments since mid-January. It makes me feel better–sometimes I forget how far we’ve come–especially when we’re reaching what feels like a plateau.

  1. Late January he prop-sat for over a minute. He can still do this, but he’d rather not and fights us pretty hard on it. Basically, he’ll only do it on the lawn and I think that’s mainly to keep his face out of the grass.
  2. Consistently rolls from front to back.
  3. Improved eye contact.
  4. Began shaking toys to create noises.
  5. Uses large gross movement to operate toys like his piano, press board, music cube, etc.
  6. Figures out how new toys operate.
  7. Increased use of right hand.
  8. Picks up things that he has dropped.
  9. Holds bottle pretty consistently.
  10. Appears to know three words and his name (up, mookie, and diaper).
  11. Anticipates during play and some daily routines ( he may have already been doing this, but these days it is very obvious).
  12. Showing beginning signs of purposeful movement while on stomach (wiggling forward)
  13. Tolerates table food although he does have some trouble moving it to the back of his throat–no problems with baby food. Self feeds with the safe-feeder and Cheetos and french fries.
  14. Touches toes!
  15. Participates in verbal exchanges although he makes no babbling sounds.

I’m writing all this down because I’m sure I’ll forget half of it when I’m there. The Hub and I have discussed it and we are not interested in another course of medicine. We feel that the last batch did the job or else we wouldn’t being seeing so much improvement. Even if we have an EEG that we don’t like, the Hub doesn’t want to do medicine again. Our next batch would probably be daily injections and we just don’t think it’s necessary. This list is to help me stay strong.

And just for laughs, here’s a video of Charlie “singing.” My husband sings into his hand and he does it too–he sounds kind of like the dog, though.

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