illness Archives - Page 2 of 4 - Running for Autism

Overcoming The Bad Stuff: 19 March 2010

February 27, 2011 By Kirsten

As I attempt to patch together bits of my life that feel as if they are falling apart, I find myself unable to write. This is a re-post from last year. In fact, this was only the third or fourth post in the life of Running For Autism. I’ll see you tomorrow, emotional Band-Aids and all.

2010 did not exactly start off well for me. In early December, I had suffered from a strep throat infection, during which I had only been able to lie down comfortably in one position for three days. This resulted in some stiffness in my neck and upper back. It was not crippling, merely uncomfortable, and my chiropractor was helping me out with it. The day before New Years Eve, a chiropractic adjustment went horribly wrong. I had excruciating shooting pains in my back and going all the day down my left arm. The fingers in my hand went numb. While everyone else was out partying it up the following night, I was sitting on the couch writhing in agony. I missed the New Years Day Resolution Run – something that I had been looking forward to for weeks.

Over the next month, I went to the Emergency Room twice, was seen by five different doctors, and got four different prescriptions for drugs. I cried myself to sleep each night because I was in so much pain, and I appropriated the kids’ giant stuffed gorilla because it was just the right size for me to rest my arm on. I was taking Percocet for the pain every six hours, and when the pain between doses got too much for me to bear, I was taking Tylenol Three as well.

For a month I could barely stand up, let alone run. In the end, it was the folks at Toronto SEMI (Sports and Exercise Medicine Institute) who saved me from insanity. The doctor there told me what I had suspected, which is that I had a pinched nerve. The pinched nerves always get resolved, he said, and it could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to a few months. I immediately started seeing one of the physiotherapists at SEMI, and within days I was starting to feel relief. After two weeks, she told me I could try running again. Two weeks after that, I was in full-on training mode again, and feeling great.

As soon as I had gotten back on my feet, though, I was struck down again. I caught a cold, and the cold turned into something a lot worse. I had a hacking cough, I had a fever that came and went, I was weak. I was so sick that I was off work for two weeks, and was not allowed back without producing a doctor’s note certifying that I didn’t have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. During this time, I was not able to run for three weeks.

Last weekend marked the end of this three-week drought. I got up on Sunday morning, and although I was still coughing a bit and somewhat congested, I decided to give it a try. It went surprisingly well – slower than I would have liked, but considering all I’d been through over the last three months, I didn’t mind. I was just happy that I was out on the road again.

On Tuesday I went for a lunchtime run. Due to time constraints, my weekday runs cannot really be longer than 5km, but that’s still enough for a good workout. About 500m into the run, my hair band snapped. Not a good thing – I have quite a lot of hair. I ran almost 5km with my hair streaming out behind me. It reminded me of those movies about horses, where the horses are running across meadows with the hair on their tails flowing behind them in the wind. That’s what I felt like. A horse’s ass. I had also misjudged the weather that day, so I was overdressed. Hair flying every which way plus clothes that are too hot leads to a run that is uncomfortable and cumbersome. I was not happy with my pace or the fact that my heart rate was reaching the stratosphere.

My next run was on Thursday. I almost left my running clothes at home that day, because I had had zero sleep on Wednesday night and did not rate my chances for a good run. But you never know, so I took my gym bag to work, not really expecting to use it. Come lunchtime, I still felt like the undead, but knowing from past experience how a run can actually have healing powers, I suited up and hit the road. My clothes were appropriate and my hair band stayed intact. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and I had a fantastic run. Although the “pace buddy” on my training watch still beat me, my pace was a lot better than it had been on Tuesday. My heart rate stayed within reasonable levels. When I reached the end of the 5km, I could have continued. It was one of those runs that reminds me why I love running.

I am planning another 5km run for tomorrow morning, and a longer one for Sunday. I am looking forward to my 10km race on April 3rd. I am hopeful that I will stay healthy this time. I have to. After all, there are only 190 days to my next run for autism.

Filed Under: Illness, Injury, running Tagged With: bronchitis, chiropractor, illness, injury, pain medication, pinched nerve, postaday2011, race, recovery, running, strep, training

One Step Closer To Normal

February 14, 2011 By Kirsten

Life is one step closer to normal today.

James has rallied back after his week-long illness and is back at school today. It completely failed to register with my overtaxed brain that today would be the day to send in Valentines cards and treats for him to hand out to his classmates, but I don’t honestly feel too bad about that. I’ve had other things on my mind. In any case, James will no doubt get a lot of attention today. He is immensely proud of the tiny little bruise on his hand where the IV line went in. He is going to show the bruise to his friends and tell the tale of his hospital adventures. I’d say the kid has earned the bragging rights.

George is still home, but he hasn’t thrown up for about thirty hours. He ate jam sandwiches yesterday, and right now he is digging into the scrambled egg that he requested. He has colour in his face again – a colour other than pure white, that is – and he is chatting away in his own little autie language. He seems happy, and definitely better. He’s getting one more day at home to recover his strength.

Gerard and I are at home as well. Both of us feel a little drained and weak, but we are also on the mend. My system is still very delicate – so delicate that I am, for the fourth day in a row, voluntarily foregoing coffee. Those who know me and my love for caffeine will appreciate just what a sacrifice this is.

Even though I am at home, I am well enough to actually work. Tomorrow I will go back to the office for the first time in almost a week. I’ll feel like Marco Polo must have when he got back from China or wherever it was he went, except that I won’t have boatloads of tea and rice with me.

After my return to work, I will be able to think about the next big thing. Running. Oh, how I miss running. How badly I want to lace up my running shoes and go out in the crisp, cold air and feel the crunching of the snow beneath my feet as I run.

If I try that today I will throw up all over that nice pretty snow. I have to be sensible. It will probably be Thursday or Friday before I try running again, and when I do, I will have to start out slow.

I won’t even care about being slow. I just want to be out on the road again.

And for everyone in my family to be able to go to bed at night without a designated puke bucket on the floor beside them.

Filed Under: health, Illness Tagged With: family, George, health, illness, James, postaday2011, recovery, running, school, Valentines Day, work

We Survived The Gastro Bug Of 2011

February 13, 2011 By Kirsten

It has been quite a week, one in which both kids made it to the Emergency Room at our local hospital. James’ visit resulted in an overnight stay, which left me feeling exhausted and sick myself. With George, we were luckier. His condition, while similar to James’, was less severe and did not call for any needles or IV lines. We were seen by a really nice doctor, and then sent home with strict instructions on how to orally administer fluids.

Most parents of boys aged 5 and 7 have seen the inside of an E.R. at least once. With this latest visit, James has now clocked up four visits (3 months: hair wrapped around toe so tightly that said toe was turning purple; 2 years: hand placed on rapidly moving treadmill belt resulting in the loss of several layers of skin; 3 years: arm pulled out of joint at elbow by big brother; 5 years: severe dehydration).

George has been somewhat luckier in this regard, having only needed to visit the E.R. on two occasions. This is a good thing – I cannot describe how good. James takes stuff like this in his stride. Sure, he cried when the IV line was put in place on Wednesday night, and he cried when I explained to him that we would be in the hospital overnight instead of going home, but when these things happen, he understands that the doctors are there to make him better. George has a much harder time. His autism makes him resistant to changes in routine, new places, unfamiliar people, and strange smells.

Doctors’ offices are bad enough. Hospital E.R.’s have the ability to send him right over the top. It is a good thing that George has managed to stay healthy and relatively injury-free.

The first E.R. visit, the day after George’s 4th birthday, was prompted by an accident in the daycare he attended at the time. He had been stimming, spinning round and round in circles. The daycare staff were attempting to move George to the centre of the room where he could safely stim without hurting himself, but he lost his balance and fell, hitting his upper lip on the corner of a bookshelf.

The E.R. we took him to was very understanding. We registered him and completed all of the requisite paperwork, and then wondered out loud how we would cope with what was likely to be a long wait. The admitting nurse, realizing that George’s autism would make a hospital wait unbearable for him, told us to go to the donut shop across the street with him. When it was his turn, and when the examination room was all set up, someone would come and get us.

The nurse was true to her word. A hospital orderly came and got us after about twenty minutes, and we were taken straight into the examination room, where the doctor, a nurse, and two other orderlies were waiting. Before George had any clue what was happening, he was placed on the bed, and the orderlies expertly wrapped him up in a sheet like a burrito, so only his face was exposed. The nurse immediately swabbed his face, and the doctor, who was waiting with an already-prepared suture, gave George the single stitch that he needed.

We were in and out of there in less than three minutes. Kudos to all staff at that E.R.

This time round, George had to stick around for a longer time. His utter lethargy, while certainly a concern from a health perspective, definitely helped the E.R. visit go more smoothly than it otherwise might have. He endured the admission tests, with the exception of the temperature check. He was having none of that thermometer business, either at the front desk or in the examination room.

He allowed the nurse to put a tamper-proof hospital band around his wrist. In the examination room, he tampered with it and got it off (people who make tamper-proof products should really test-drive them on out-of-the-box-thinking auties). I was very concerned about the prospect of an IV line. The kid wouldn’t even keep on a wrist-band. How were we going to prevent him from ripping out the IV line?

Imagine our relief when we were told that IV fluids would not be needed. We were told how to administer fluids, how frequently, and in what amounts. We all got to come home.

*Phew*

A day later, we are all officially on the mend. Well, except for James, who is completely recovered. George has just eaten a jam sandwich – his first real food in three days. I’m no longer feeling nauseous (I still think that was due more to pure exhaustion than anything else). Gerard is a bit more lively than he was yesterday.

And now, hopefully, we return to a “normal” life in the special needs family.

Filed Under: autism, hospital, Illness Tagged With: autism, Emergency Room, gastro, George, hospital, illness, injury, IV, James, postaday2011, recovery, understanding

A Night Away From Home

February 11, 2011 By Kirsten

They should sell T-shirts that say, “I survived my child’s first overnight stay in a hospital.” Or they should give out badges, like they do in Girl Scouts. Because let me tell you, it is quite an accomplishment. Just one night in the hospital with my son left me feeling jagged and raw. While I was sitting there yesterday afternoon wondering when I would be able to grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee, I sent a message to my friend Amy, expressing my pure admiration for the fact that she did this in a far more serious situation, day in and day out, for five months.

It all started when James started tossing his cookies at the daycare on Monday. For a full 24 hours he was throwing up and having attacks of diarrhea, and even when they kind-of-sort-of passed, he didn’t get better. By the time I got home from work on Wednesday evening, he was still not eating or drinking, and he was crying out from the pains in his tummy.

Recognizing that most kids’ tummy bugs are over and done with in a day or so, and we were now at the end of Day Three, I took James to the walk-in clinic (no family doctor – ours had the gall to retire, citing stuff like “time with family”). The doctor at the clinic examined James for five minutes and decided he wanted none of it. He told me to get James to the hospital. “Now,” he said.

The triage nurse at the hospital was cranky. She was abrupt and acted as if we were inconveniencing her. I didn’t hold it against her. She was nearing the end of what had probably been a long shift in the emergency room, but still. Being cranky with a sick five-year-old seems a bit much. She did her thing and then sent us off to see the admitting doctor – go to the room at the end of the hall and wait in partition D, she said.

The doctor was cranky. He overheard James saying that we were looking for “Number D” and grumpily said, “D is not a number.”

For God’s sake. I mean, I know E.R. doctors are taxed to the limit. These guys are on their feet for long shifts during which they no doubt have to make many life-or-death decisions, but come on. Don’t take out your stress on a five-year-old child who is visibly ill.

Anyway.

The doctor examined James and said that he was severely dehydrated. He invited me to feel James’ hands. I did, and they were ice-cold. The dehydration had made his core body temperature drop right down. We were taken to a dedicated examination room and IV fluids were started. Within 20 minutes, James’ temperature was looking better.

The on-duty pediatrician came in, examined James, and made the decision to keep him in overnight. He was transferred to the pediatric floor, and we were installed in a room. I helped the nurses get James as settled as he could be, and then I lay in the bed provided for me and failed to sleep. Every now and then I kind of sank into a trance, only to be roused by the comings and goings of the nurses who came in to fuss over James every now and then.

James was in much better spirits when he woke up in the morning. He still couldn’t eat, but he requested and received a Popsicle. In a turn of events that was very sweet, when the nurse came in with the Popsicle, he asked her if she would please get another one for his Mommy. We sat there in companionable silence, eating our Popsicles together (and it was so welcome – my throat was parched), and then another nurse came in bearing gifts. Apparently, every child admitted to the pediatric floor gets a bag of toys that they get to take home with them.

I borrowed a BlackBerry charger from the doctor, and was able to be in touch with the outside world again. I read and responded to emails, James played with his new toys plus the ones his Dad had brought him from home during the night. Apart from the occasional stomach cramps and attacks of diarrhea still plaguing James, all was well, if a little bit boring. IV fluids continued to drip into his system, and the comings and goings now involved a different group of doctors and nurses.

In the middle of the afternoon, I was finally able to get a cup of coffee and a sandwich. By this point I was beyond exhaustion and beyond hunger. With the nurse watching James, I fled to the donut shop, where I got a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then, in a bid to extend my freedom for a little longer, I went into the gift shop and got James a new Cars toy and a book.

Back upstairs, I drank my coffee and ate half of the sandwich. I promptly threw both of them up.

Lovely. Just as my son is getting better, now I start to get sick?

Since I have not had a repeat episode since then, I am assuming that my system was just responding to exhaustion, and that the shock of actually receiving food for the first time in 24 hours was a bit too much for my body.

In the late afternoon, the pediatrician came in and declared James almost well enough to go home. He was hydrated again, he was drinking on his own, and he had even managed a bit of food. All we were waiting for, she said, was for him to pee. Once he had peed, we would know that fluids were getting both into and out of his system OK. In the I.T. world, we would refer to this as end-to-end testing.

A couple of hours later, James’ bladder obliged, and we were given the all-clear to leave. The IV was disconnected, final temperature and blood pressure checks were done, and we were out of there. James was definitely a much more healthy, brighter child than he had been before going in.

It felt almost obscenely good to be back home.

James is OK. George, who was doing a great deal of his own throwing up in our absence, seems to be on the mend. I have not tossed my cookies again (although, to be fair, I haven’t taken a chance on eating either).

Equilibrium seems to be returning…

And I am truly grateful to the doctors and nurses at Centenary Hospital for taking such good care of my baby.

Filed Under: hospital, Illness Tagged With: Amy, children, dehydration, diarrhea, doctor, exhaustion, hospital, hunger, illness, IV fluids, nurse, pediatrics, postaday2011, recovery, throwing up

Sick Child, Sleepless Night

February 8, 2011 By Kirsten

When you receive a call from your child’s daycare that includes the words “vomiting” and “diarrhea”, you know your day is about to take a nosedive.

Yesterday morning, I arrived at work and went straight into a meeting without even going to my desk first. After the meeting, I returned to my desk and saw the message light on my phone blinking. Three new messages. All of them from James’ daycare teacher, ~~asking~~ begging for someone to pick him up and take him home.

This was a problem for me, since I was sitting in my office at work, more than an hour away by public transit. I called my mother-in-law, who is listed on James’ paperwork as a designated pick-up person. She didn’t answer her phone. I called Gerard, whose place of business is ten minutes’ drive away. He didn’t answer his phone. For about twenty minutes, I was frantically calling the two numbers in turn, picturing my poor child huddled over miserably at the daycare. In the end, my mother-in-law picked him up, and took care of him for the day until Gerard and I were able to get home.

During the night, things got really rough. Right before bedtime, James twisted around to throw up again, into the plastic basin that he had placed beside him. As he twisted, he dinged his knee very hard on the metal frame of the futon he was lying on. All of a sudden, his knee was as much of a problem (although a less messy one) than the fact that he was sick.

He was crying because his stomach was hurting. He was crying because his knee was hurting. He was crying because he felt bad about messing up his clothes. He was crying because he was hurting with thirst and couldn’t keep anything down.

My poor baby.

I lay down with him and tried to sleep.

That didn’t work out too well. During the night, there were two episodes of vomiting and one of diarrhea, along with many, many cries of pain because of the sore knee. I iced and bandaged the knee, and that seemed to help. I dressed James in clean pyjamas, and that made him feel better. I gave him sips of flat Coke, and he managed to keep that down.

Finally my boy went to sleep.

I did not. By now my mind was racing a million miles a minute. I was thinking of anything and everything. Rest was out of the question. Finally, at around 6:00 a.m., I fell into a fitful sleep, only to be woken up half an hour later.

Going to work today was out of the question. James, while a lot better, needs to be at home, and he needs his Mommy with him. Meanwhile, Mommy’s brain is in a complete fog. I tried to do some work from home, but in the end, I decided to take the day off. Work in any reasonable form was just not going to happen today.

On the bright side, we have had about seven hours now with no throwing up, and about five hours with no diarrhea.

Things are looking up.

Filed Under: Children, Illness, parenting Tagged With: children, daycare, diarrhea, illness, James, parenting, postaday2011, sleep, stomach bug, vomiting

The Parent Who Disappointed

January 31, 2011 By Kirsten

This weekend I had the dubious distinction of being The Parent Who Disappoints. It’s not a nice feeling, I tell ya. In fact, it’s downright awful. I feel like someone’s reached down into my throat and twisted my heart around when I see my five-year-old son standing in front of me with fat tears rolling down his cheeks because of something I’ve done. Or in this case, failed to do.

James was supposed to go to a birthday party on Saturday afternoon. The party was being held for a little girl who goes to school and daycare with him. She is a really, really lovely child with equally lovely parents. James was excited about going to the party, but the catch was that I would have had to stay at the party with him. He’s not ready to be left without either of his parents at an unfamiliar house (and frankly, I’m not ready for it either).

It’s not that I mind staying at these parties. In fact, I kind of enjoy sitting there chatting with the other parents while our kids run around and play.

On Saturday, though, I was sick. I was streaming with a cold, using up Kleenexes at the speed of sound, inhaling cough drops like they were Smarties, and feeling as if my head was about to explode. And by Saturday afternoon I had started developing pink-eye, and my eyes were oozing in a very unsavoury manner.

Would you have wanted me hanging out in a house full of moms and kids in that condition? Would you have even wanted me driving in that condition, with my eyes pretty much sealed shut with gunk?

Gerard was not able to go, because he had an appointment with a client at work.

Gerard’s mom, the only other possible candidate, was at a funeral.

It fell to me, in my sick, dreary state, to break the news to James that I would not be able to take him to the party. James was not angry, and he did not throw a tantrum. He just started weeping in a very, very sad way.

Now, in addition to being as sick as a dog, I felt like a piece of crap parent. I felt so sad for my little guy that I started to weep myself.

Just in case you were wondering: crying when you have pink-eye is not a good idea.

I apologized over and over to James. I explained to him the dual problems of putting everyone at risk of illness and not actually being fit to drive. Later, he assured me that he understood and that he didn’t hate me. But still. I felt horrible for disappointing my baby.

I asked him what I could do to make it up to him, and he said he’d like a birthday party of his own. This works for me – I have plans to throw him a party anyway – but his answer has prompted me to step it up a notch, to make a supreme effort to provide him with a special day. He wants to have his party at an indoor playground, and he wants a Lightning McQueen cake. I’ll provide him with a Lightning McQueen cake if I have to go all the way to Radiator Springs to get it.

James misses out on a lot. It must be tough for him, being the brother of a child with autism, and the son of a Mom who gets sick at just the wrong time.

The least I can do is give him a day that he can call his own, where he will be the centre of attention.

Filed Under: parenting, postaday2011 Tagged With: birthday party, children, cold, crying, disappointment, illness, James, Lightning McQueen, parenting, pink-eye, postaday2011