It took just 48 hours for 14 donors to raise $552.00. Money needed to get this:
to them:
They were washed:
And packaged for transport to Portland and then to Ukraine:
They will soon have new chairs:
Saturday, August 25, 2012
48 hours
Saturday, August 11, 2012
All hail to Shriners! Now, let's get them shipped!
Seth has a team of two PT's , an OT and a speech therapist. Among the best of the best in our town. Seth is incredibly lucky to have such quality therapists on his side. Whenever people ask who Seth sees, I'm told we have the best working for our boy. I know this is true. I frequently leave therapy with tears in my eyes because while they are amazing, I'm not sure they really grasp just what they are doing for Seth or just how significant it really is to him. They have become some of my very favorite people and I feel like we are in partnership to help Seth overcome what he has been through.
The first appointment Seth ever had in our country was with Shriners Hospital. In fact, we had that appointment set up before we even traveled to Ukraine. Pretty incredible that while a little boy sat in a wheelchair in Ukraine, lacking in health care and without a family, our country was already setting up the care he'd need. Say what you will about the USA, but that is phenomenal. We landed in the US on Monday and Seth was at Shriners on Wednesday. At that first appointment, he saw a myriad of doctors and therapists, had xrays and got a prescription for AFO's. We also established a relationship with Shelly, Seth's PT at Shriners. Seth sees Shelly every week.
So when Helping Hands USA came to me with a request for wheelchairs for the six men and boys at Seth's institution, I, knowing the physical condition these boys are in, asked for Shelly's advice for sturdy yet affordable wheelchairs that would best accommodate them and their needs. She directed me to their equipment lady, who, rather than making a recommendation, told me she'd like to donate to our cause. She told me to come see her the following week and she'd have some things set aside. So on Wednesday I came to Shriners and was stunned when I was presented with this:
Blown away. What do you say when "thank you" is completely and totally inadequate? What do you say when you're speechless? What do you say when an organization that you've loved all along suddenly has done something to win your undying gratitude forever?
Over the course of two days and two trips, we loaded all the wheelchairs, trays and bath seats.
The wheelchairs will arrive, via semi, in Missouri, within the next couple of days, where they will be transported to a ship to take them to a group of boys in an institution half way across the world in Ukraine.
Won't you please help? Even a little bit helps. It's the last stretch of a very worthwhile effort. Please be a part of it.
Click on the chip in on my blog and you will be directed to Helping Hands paypal account. Or, if you'd rather, you can mail a check to:
The first appointment Seth ever had in our country was with Shriners Hospital. In fact, we had that appointment set up before we even traveled to Ukraine. Pretty incredible that while a little boy sat in a wheelchair in Ukraine, lacking in health care and without a family, our country was already setting up the care he'd need. Say what you will about the USA, but that is phenomenal. We landed in the US on Monday and Seth was at Shriners on Wednesday. At that first appointment, he saw a myriad of doctors and therapists, had xrays and got a prescription for AFO's. We also established a relationship with Shelly, Seth's PT at Shriners. Seth sees Shelly every week.
So when Helping Hands USA came to me with a request for wheelchairs for the six men and boys at Seth's institution, I, knowing the physical condition these boys are in, asked for Shelly's advice for sturdy yet affordable wheelchairs that would best accommodate them and their needs. She directed me to their equipment lady, who, rather than making a recommendation, told me she'd like to donate to our cause. She told me to come see her the following week and she'd have some things set aside. So on Wednesday I came to Shriners and was stunned when I was presented with this:
and this:
and this:
and this:
and this:
and this:
and even these:
6 wheelchairs. 5 that tilt so that those with poor upper body control can still comfortably sit.
And three bath seats for easier bathing.
We cleaned them up, pumped up tires, made some minor adjustments and got them ready for their next leg of the journey- a semi truck ride to Helping Hands USA in Missouri.
Noah and Jeremy taking off to meet the semi:
And they're off!
And these chairs:
Will be replaced with these:
Pretty dang amazing!
Have I mentioned I love Shriners?
So all we need to do now is help with shipping costs to get the wheelchairs to the institution. Helping Hands USA gets an amazing shipping rate. We paid over $200 to mail our stack of adoption papers to Ukraine. They can ship all six wheelchairs and the bath seats for $400. That's all we need to raise to finish pulling this off for the boys and men at Seth's institution. What should have cost us $15,000 will only cost $400. That's what happens when a bunch of people doing the right thing, work together for the good of those who need it most.
Won't you please help? Even a little bit helps. It's the last stretch of a very worthwhile effort. Please be a part of it.
Click on the chip in on my blog and you will be directed to Helping Hands paypal account. Or, if you'd rather, you can mail a check to:
Helping Hands Usa
Nadia Postevka
3719 E. Beaumont ST.
Springfield, MO. 65809
Nadia Postevka
3719 E. Beaumont ST.
Springfield, MO. 65809
If you pay by check, please make a note that you'd like this to be applied to shipping on the wheelchairs.
Thank you for your help. I appreciate it. Helping Hands USA appreciates it. Most of all, the boys will appreciate it.
And I'm sharing "Frank's" picture again. Because he lives inside those walls. He needs a family. And maybe his mama will see him today and go get him out.
And I'm sharing "Frank's" picture again. Because he lives inside those walls. He needs a family. And maybe his mama will see him today and go get him out.
Monday, August 6, 2012
This boy....
This boy is on my mind.
This little guy is my friend "Frank". Frank isn't his real name. I know his real name, just like I know many other things about him. I know Frank is curious, smart, fun and sweet. I know he likes to play in the dirt and jump on the trampoline. I know he is all boy. I know he has brown eyes and brown hair and that he usually needs a bath, as most boys do. I also know he needs a family. Badly. Frank is 12 years old and living in an institution in Eastern Europe. I know what Frank's future is going to be like if that family doesn't find him soon.
While we were adopting Seth, Frank quickly became one of our favorites. Jeremy and I think about Frank every day. Frank is on my mind. A lot. Frank is a little boy who ended up at the wrong place. Frank is independent, a good eater, is happy and content. We never saw him lose his temper or act out. He's in with an older groupa, teenagers ages 16-24. The institutions highest functioning groupa. Frank is physically healthy. He walks, runs, feeds himself, speaks, does puzzles and interacts with others well. For the life of us, we can't figure out why he's in an institution. But he is.
Today, Frank received something he's never had before. An advocate. Really, a team of advocates. People who are willing to fight for him. People to help him. I've agreed to be Franks "Zero the Zeroes Hero". That means I'm helping to raise awareness and grant money to help Frank find a family. I'm actually quite happy to be doing this, because I know what an amazing little boy he is. I can't imagine him spending the rest of his days where he's at. I want to see him in a family, building airplanes with legos, going to school, joining boy scouts, playing soccer. This little boy has so much potential. But first, he needs a family.
You can help Frank find a family by donating to his grant fund. Our goal is to get Frank to $100.00. That's all. And if you go to donate, and he's already at $100, it's okay to get him to $120.00, or $150.00. Every little bit helps. Because Franks chances of finding a family are slim. He's older. He's a boy. And he's in an institution. He has three big strikes against him. Statistically, his chances are not good. But Frank now has people fighting for him. I know him. I know the little boy in the picture. He is real. Tonight, he's going to bed on the cruddy mattress in the hot hot building with 70 other boys and men who are all in his institution, and he has no way out unless we help him. Frank deserves more.
Can you be a part of helping Frank? If so, please click on the link below and donate to his grant fund through paypal. Or, you can mail a check to Reeces Rainbow (address is on the website) and mark it with "Frank". Let's help Frank reach his first goal- $100.00 in his grant fund.
If you are interested in adding an amazingly sweet little 12 year old boy to your family, please feel free to leave me a comment here with your email address. I would be so happy to tell you more about Frank. I moderate all comments before they are published and won't publish your email address.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Special delivery!
Two weeks ago, I told you about a need for a group of orphans in Ukraine, a group of people you had never met. A group of people that Jeremy and I have met. A group of people who changed Jeremy and me forever. Jeremy and I visited them every day for seven weeks while we waited for our adoption to be complete. I asked you to open your hearts and consider their needs, in a time when everyone is watching finances closely. I asked Helping Hands USA what they needed most, and of all the big, expensive luxury items they could have named off, they said fans. I asked Helping Hands USA to consider CD players also, so the boys can have music in their lives. Together, we formulated a plan, and somewhat nervously, I presented that plan to you.
I hoped that we could raise $500 in a week to cover the cost of the fans and CD players. I didn't know, honestly, if we could do it. Certainly not in a week. I didn't know if I could express their need in such a way as to raise that kind of money.
I was so overwhelmed with gratitude when I heard from Helping Hands USA that just 4 DAYS LATER, you had helped to raise $720.00 for Seth's former institution. I was humbled and so very grateful. Not only were fans and CD players delivered, but they had money left over to buy a few other things for the boys, girls and men who live behind that gate:
Three of the fans and CD players:
I hoped that we could raise $500 in a week to cover the cost of the fans and CD players. I didn't know, honestly, if we could do it. Certainly not in a week. I didn't know if I could express their need in such a way as to raise that kind of money.
I was so overwhelmed with gratitude when I heard from Helping Hands USA that just 4 DAYS LATER, you had helped to raise $720.00 for Seth's former institution. I was humbled and so very grateful. Not only were fans and CD players delivered, but they had money left over to buy a few other things for the boys, girls and men who live behind that gate:
Three of the fans and CD players:
One fan and CD player, delivered to Seth's front room, as promised:
Art supplies:
Diapers:
Food for all the men, boys and girls:
And shoes for two men who want to go to church but couldn't because there were holes in their shoes and they couldn't walk that far in them:
Thank you, thank you for your willingness to step forward to help a group of people you've never met. They are some of the sweetest people I know, with the purest hearts, and they have the hardest lives with little or no hope of ever getting out. I feel their hopelessness and their despair and I want so much to brighten their day and let them know that somewhere, someone cares for them, is aware of them, and is willing to sacrifice for them. Thank you for being those people. If some good can come out of Seth's time spent in the institution, I want this to be it- that a group of men otherwise forgotten are receiving your love and compassion.
If you have not already done so, please click on this link and "like" Helping Hand USA on facebook. They are doing a fantastic job of serving a very needy and very, very deserving group of orphans.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
For the friends we left behind
Some things change you forever. Adoption is one of those things. Visiting and getting a child out of an institution is another. Leaving behind kids/ men who will live out the remainder of their lives there is one more. Jeremy and I came back from EE a lot less naive. Our eyes had been opened. We realized in ways we never truly did how very blessed we are. Our education system, health care system, our culture.... all providing things for Seth that he simply would never have received had he stayed in EE. And while we breathe a sigh of relief for Seth and for all the other children being adopted, we worry about the ones who will remain behind that gate forever.
Earlier this week, I ran across videos and pictures taken by an organization, Helping Hands USA. The videos were of Seth's institution. More particularly, his groupa. To see those girls and boys in the very same seats, doing the very same thing they were doing eight months ago was both heartbreaking and eye opening. Because I know that in two years, five years, ten years, twenty years they will still be there. Doing the same thing. While Seth starts school, gets better at walking, learns to be independent, goes to church, makes friends, learns to read, learns to ride a bike, swims, play at parks, graduates high school, goes to college, gets a job, gets married, has children, and lives out his happy long life, the boys and men still there will sit and do the very same thing they were doing eight months ago when we walked out the doors forever with Seth.
This young man speaks three languages and has an amazing singing voice. He sings a national anthem that made me cry every time. He is often heard singing for the boys and girls in their groupa. Their entire institution loves music. A couple times a week, the music teacher comes to visit, and when he does, some of the boys will go out on concrete and dance. Music is a big part of their culture. Because of this, Helping Hands would like to also donate 4 CD players, one for each of the main rooms, including the room this young man is in. The sounds in an institution are not always pleasant. I'll leave it at that. And there's not much to do. A CD player would go far in keeping their minds occupied and entertained. Having been in this very room every day for six weeks, I can attest that the sounds of uplifting music will brighten their lives considerably.
Earlier this week, I ran across videos and pictures taken by an organization, Helping Hands USA. The videos were of Seth's institution. More particularly, his groupa. To see those girls and boys in the very same seats, doing the very same thing they were doing eight months ago was both heartbreaking and eye opening. Because I know that in two years, five years, ten years, twenty years they will still be there. Doing the same thing. While Seth starts school, gets better at walking, learns to be independent, goes to church, makes friends, learns to read, learns to ride a bike, swims, play at parks, graduates high school, goes to college, gets a job, gets married, has children, and lives out his happy long life, the boys and men still there will sit and do the very same thing they were doing eight months ago when we walked out the doors forever with Seth.
Oct 2011:
June 2012:
Oct 2011:
June 2012:
Oct 2011:
June 2012:
And here's one more thrown in, because I want so badly for someone to go get this awesome little boy!
Oct 2011:
June 2012:
See? Not much changes for them. Life got way better for Seth when he got a family, but all those boys and girls left behind..... nothing changes. Since coming home, Jeremy and I have thought about those kids every day. We've worried about them. We've thought about things we could do to help them. And then, one day last week, I "found" Helping Hands USA. Helping Hands USA is a US non profit organization who visits this institution, taking them food three times a week and clothing as needed. They operate solely on donations, taking none of the money. 100% of money donated goes to goods donated to these boys and girls in these pics.
I asked Helping Hands USA (on facebook, by the way. Please go "like" them!) what the kids are most in need of. He said four fans for ventilation and four CD players. Jeremy and I were in that institution in Sept and Oct. It was stuffy, with little air circulation. And the smells..... well, you can imagine the smells. Fans would make an enormous difference. I can't imagine how hot that building must be. It's made of bricks and bricks attract heat. It's in the upper 80's in their country this week. That building is like an oven. Fans are not a luxury. They are a necessity.
See this awesome young man right here?
To make this work, Helping Hands USA needs to raise $500 in one week. They are visiting the institution on July 20th (next Friday) and want to take the fans and CD players with them when they go. I'm asking all my facebook friends, my blog friends, my IRL friends and friends of Helping Hands USA to please consider a donation to bring very simple pleasures to our friends living lives we can't imagine. Helping Hands USA prefers cash donations, because goods can be purchased in country a lot less expensively than if purchased here and mailed to them and the less money spent on mailing, the more can be spent to directly benefit those behind those gates. Each cash donation is tax deductible and you will receive a receipt. My goal is to see that $500 gets raised in six days. Can you help? I have 71 official followers of my blog and almost 500 facebook friends. Together, we can do this! Please, please help us! Help us help those we left behind.
This is Helping Hands USA's website. If you click on it, it will take you to their paypal page. If you'd prefer, you can also send a check to their Springfield Missouri office.
Also, if you are on facebook, please go to their page and "like" them. And then "share" them. I've been talking with them for several days now and I love their hearts. This is currently the only institution they are working with, and they love those they are serving.
While we were at the institution, whenever visitors came, it was a big deal. The boys were always thrilled for the break in routine. The boys each have a photo book and they'd bring them to us over and over again, showing us the people who have visited them. Visitors are a BIG DEAL! Please know that if you choose to help, we thank you. I thank you. I know, first hand, what your donation will mean to those kids. Helping Hands USA has said they will take pics, and I, of course, will post those. Be a part of this. Just $500 dollars. Together, we can do this!
One more set of pics for you, to re emphasize the power of adoption. Of hope. Of a family...
Oct 2011:
July 2012 (home 8 months):
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Not much needs to be said
Eight months ago today, Seth stepped foot in the Denver Colorado airport, and with that step, became a U.S. citizen. This is his Ukrainian passport picture, taken a few days before we took him out of his orphanage forever.
In other adoption news, our friends the Jobes are about to travel to go get Josiah!!! I cannot wait for them to hold that little boy in their arms. I think I will cry as much as Faith. Josiah has waited far too long for this day.
These are pics of him taken today, in our backyard, doing what he loves most.
Swinging.
Is that transformation even possible? Can that even be the same little boy? It is.
Not much more needs to be said. The pictures say it all.
Families heal little boys.
It's been eight months today, and without a doubt, I've learned even more than he has. Parenting a post institutional kid with special needs is tough stuff. Watching life get breathed into a child again is a phenominal experience and an incredible blessing. I simply cannot even imagine him sitting in that institution, in that wheelchair, waiting for his turn to die. I just can't.
It's been eight months today, and without a doubt, I've learned even more than he has. Parenting a post institutional kid with special needs is tough stuff. Watching life get breathed into a child again is a phenominal experience and an incredible blessing. I simply cannot even imagine him sitting in that institution, in that wheelchair, waiting for his turn to die. I just can't.
In other adoption news, our friends the Jobes are about to travel to go get Josiah!!! I cannot wait for them to hold that little boy in their arms. I think I will cry as much as Faith. Josiah has waited far too long for this day.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Valuable lessons learned the hard way
This post is a long time coming. It's been a busy month of trying to get Seth back on his feet from a surgery that should have been routine, but ended up with us in the hospital for four days. While I would have gladly skipped all the pain he had, I am glad for the lessons learned and the emotional progress that was made.
A month ago, Seth went in to have tubes put in his ears for recurring ear infections, and came out less a set of tonsils and adenoids. During the surgery, the doctor came out and said his tonsils and adenoids were very enlarged and showed signs of continual infection. This was no surprise to any of us. His advice was to go ahead and remove them. Seth woke up from anesthesia weirdly and wildly, in a complete panic and in huge amounts of pain, striking out, hitting, screaming. Brutal. They were unable to administer pain medication post surgery because he would have spit it out. We were told to wait til we got home, in order to let him calm down and to allow the anesthesia to completely wear off. I had a bad feeling about this.
We got home and he flat out refused to take any pain medication in any form. We tried liquids (which he's always done in the past). We tried chewables. We tried quick dissolves. Nothing worked. We resorted to a little bit (okay, a lot) of coersion and that resulted in him spitting it out and hysterics.... on everyone's part. We tried to hide the medication in his food and drink. He was on to us and wouldn't eat or drink it. As he felt more pain, he started to refuse food and drink altogether because to eat or drink would require him to swallow, and that wasn't happening. By Thursday, he was dehydrated and in a great deal of pain. We called his doctor who told us to get him to the ER to be admitted.
We got to the hospital and Seth was a nervous wreck. Long hallways that resemble institutions do this to him. He has no frame of reference for the word "hospital" and he didn't want to hear what I had to say anyway. He just wanted me to hold him and he wanted the pain to go away. Once they had him back to a room, they needed to draw blood for labs and put in an IV to begin rehydration. At this point, his tongue was so dry there was no moisture at all on it. He was beginning to fall apart emotionally. He didn't know where he was or what was going on and he was in significant pain. The lab tech came in and wonders upon wonders, she spoke Russian. I asked her to tell him that he's in a hospital, that we were going to help him feel better and that he would be going home with me when it was over. You could see him visably relax as she talked to him. Poor baby. :(
Amidst wimpers and pitiful cries, blood was drawn and after two unsuccessful attempts, an IV line was put in. They ran the bloodwork and learned he was definitely dehydrated and needed to be admitted. We were taken upstairs to pediatrics for IV pain medication and hydration.
Over the next 24 hours, he got better. We were able to go to a playroom and paint, to walk the halls, to play in the play area. He still wasn't eating or drinking, but because of the IV and good medication, he felt better. That was Friday morning.
By Friday afternoon, he was spiraling downhill again. I told the nurse and we tried to figure out why. He had no energy and refused everything I tried to give him. He slept a lot. He didn't want to leave his room. He couldn't seem to get past the pain. We added in morphine and he needed it every two hours, like clockwork. That's not normal for someone three days post op. Friday dragged into Saturday with no real change, and then it was Sunday. They couldn't send us home because he still wouldn't eat, drink or take oral pain medications. We were stumped. He just wasn't getting better.
One of the low points for me came as we took a walk together through the halls. He wouldn't allow me to even put him down, so I carried him in my arms. We passed by a row of cribs, and Seth absolutely scrambled to get into one. I allowed him to, partially because I was curious. Sure enough, he instantly curled into a ball and put his thumb in his mouth. To him, a crib still represented security. Break. My. Heart.
Sunday morning, I asked the doctor to take a look in his throat. We had avoided it up til that point because we knew his throat was messy due to surgery and we knew it would hurt him to allow us to take a look. The doctor agreed it was necessary and grabbed a tongue depressor, took a look and announced that on top of everything else, he had strep. No wonder he wouldn't eat, drink or do anything else that required swallowing. IV antibiotics were started immediately and by Monday afternoon, he was doing reasonably better, not eating much but drinking steadily. We began coaxing oral meds down him and while it was met with great resistance, I felt I could handle it. It was time to go home.
He recovered fairly quickly once home, adding more food and drink as the infection went away. Two weeks post op, he was eating his body weight in food and trying hard to make up the FIVE POUNDS he lost in less than a week. That's a lot of weight when you only weigh 40 pounds to begin with. After a couple days home, he began to take his medication orally again and now, a month later, has gained a whopping NINE POUNDS!
Aside from a lot of angst and anxiety, Seth's time in the hospital actually came with some up sides. He likes me to cuddle and hold him, but on his terms, and because he's a busy 7 year old boy, never for very long. While in the hospital, he wanted me to lay with him, read to him, and hold him a lot. He allowed me to comfort him.
He also learned to communicate pain, something that he's never done before. He did not know to let us know when he hurts. Why communicate if no one is listening? He learned that we are listening and that if he lets us know, we will help him, that I, as well as the scary nurses and doctors, was there to make him better. He would reach up to me, take my hand and wimper. When he did that, I knew his pain was getting unbearable.
For four days, he watched me like a hawk. If I walked out the door, he had to know I'd come back. One time, early on, I forgot to tell him where I was going and I could hear him crying down the hall. From then on, I made sure I told him where I was going and that I'd be right back. It kept him from crying, but he continued to watch me. He learned I always come back.
We made big progress in trust while we were in the hospital. He had to give up control and rely on me and a team of medical professionals, to help him, in a situation that clearly made him nervous. He had to let us know what was wrong and trust that we would make it better. He had to figure out a non verbal way to communicate pain. He had to set aside his anxiety every time I walked out the door, trusting me to come back. And I did.
As the doctor and I talked on Monday and decided that we could go home, the doctor looked over at Seth. Seth was laying there, listening to every word. He was delighted to hear the word "home".
The doctor said Seth is amazing, that he's very smart and that he has a will of iron.
A month ago, Seth went in to have tubes put in his ears for recurring ear infections, and came out less a set of tonsils and adenoids. During the surgery, the doctor came out and said his tonsils and adenoids were very enlarged and showed signs of continual infection. This was no surprise to any of us. His advice was to go ahead and remove them. Seth woke up from anesthesia weirdly and wildly, in a complete panic and in huge amounts of pain, striking out, hitting, screaming. Brutal. They were unable to administer pain medication post surgery because he would have spit it out. We were told to wait til we got home, in order to let him calm down and to allow the anesthesia to completely wear off. I had a bad feeling about this.
We got home and he flat out refused to take any pain medication in any form. We tried liquids (which he's always done in the past). We tried chewables. We tried quick dissolves. Nothing worked. We resorted to a little bit (okay, a lot) of coersion and that resulted in him spitting it out and hysterics.... on everyone's part. We tried to hide the medication in his food and drink. He was on to us and wouldn't eat or drink it. As he felt more pain, he started to refuse food and drink altogether because to eat or drink would require him to swallow, and that wasn't happening. By Thursday, he was dehydrated and in a great deal of pain. We called his doctor who told us to get him to the ER to be admitted.
We got to the hospital and Seth was a nervous wreck. Long hallways that resemble institutions do this to him. He has no frame of reference for the word "hospital" and he didn't want to hear what I had to say anyway. He just wanted me to hold him and he wanted the pain to go away. Once they had him back to a room, they needed to draw blood for labs and put in an IV to begin rehydration. At this point, his tongue was so dry there was no moisture at all on it. He was beginning to fall apart emotionally. He didn't know where he was or what was going on and he was in significant pain. The lab tech came in and wonders upon wonders, she spoke Russian. I asked her to tell him that he's in a hospital, that we were going to help him feel better and that he would be going home with me when it was over. You could see him visably relax as she talked to him. Poor baby. :(
Amidst wimpers and pitiful cries, blood was drawn and after two unsuccessful attempts, an IV line was put in. They ran the bloodwork and learned he was definitely dehydrated and needed to be admitted. We were taken upstairs to pediatrics for IV pain medication and hydration.
Over the next 24 hours, he got better. We were able to go to a playroom and paint, to walk the halls, to play in the play area. He still wasn't eating or drinking, but because of the IV and good medication, he felt better. That was Friday morning.
By Friday afternoon, he was spiraling downhill again. I told the nurse and we tried to figure out why. He had no energy and refused everything I tried to give him. He slept a lot. He didn't want to leave his room. He couldn't seem to get past the pain. We added in morphine and he needed it every two hours, like clockwork. That's not normal for someone three days post op. Friday dragged into Saturday with no real change, and then it was Sunday. They couldn't send us home because he still wouldn't eat, drink or take oral pain medications. We were stumped. He just wasn't getting better.
One of the low points for me came as we took a walk together through the halls. He wouldn't allow me to even put him down, so I carried him in my arms. We passed by a row of cribs, and Seth absolutely scrambled to get into one. I allowed him to, partially because I was curious. Sure enough, he instantly curled into a ball and put his thumb in his mouth. To him, a crib still represented security. Break. My. Heart.
Sunday morning, I asked the doctor to take a look in his throat. We had avoided it up til that point because we knew his throat was messy due to surgery and we knew it would hurt him to allow us to take a look. The doctor agreed it was necessary and grabbed a tongue depressor, took a look and announced that on top of everything else, he had strep. No wonder he wouldn't eat, drink or do anything else that required swallowing. IV antibiotics were started immediately and by Monday afternoon, he was doing reasonably better, not eating much but drinking steadily. We began coaxing oral meds down him and while it was met with great resistance, I felt I could handle it. It was time to go home.
He recovered fairly quickly once home, adding more food and drink as the infection went away. Two weeks post op, he was eating his body weight in food and trying hard to make up the FIVE POUNDS he lost in less than a week. That's a lot of weight when you only weigh 40 pounds to begin with. After a couple days home, he began to take his medication orally again and now, a month later, has gained a whopping NINE POUNDS!
Aside from a lot of angst and anxiety, Seth's time in the hospital actually came with some up sides. He likes me to cuddle and hold him, but on his terms, and because he's a busy 7 year old boy, never for very long. While in the hospital, he wanted me to lay with him, read to him, and hold him a lot. He allowed me to comfort him.
He also learned to communicate pain, something that he's never done before. He did not know to let us know when he hurts. Why communicate if no one is listening? He learned that we are listening and that if he lets us know, we will help him, that I, as well as the scary nurses and doctors, was there to make him better. He would reach up to me, take my hand and wimper. When he did that, I knew his pain was getting unbearable.
For four days, he watched me like a hawk. If I walked out the door, he had to know I'd come back. One time, early on, I forgot to tell him where I was going and I could hear him crying down the hall. From then on, I made sure I told him where I was going and that I'd be right back. It kept him from crying, but he continued to watch me. He learned I always come back.
We made big progress in trust while we were in the hospital. He had to give up control and rely on me and a team of medical professionals, to help him, in a situation that clearly made him nervous. He had to let us know what was wrong and trust that we would make it better. He had to figure out a non verbal way to communicate pain. He had to set aside his anxiety every time I walked out the door, trusting me to come back. And I did.
As the doctor and I talked on Monday and decided that we could go home, the doctor looked over at Seth. Seth was laying there, listening to every word. He was delighted to hear the word "home".
The doctor said Seth is amazing, that he's very smart and that he has a will of iron.
Tell me something I don't know.
Seth is stubborn. Seth is strong. Seth is resiliant. Seth is a survivor.
Seth. Is. Amazing!
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