{30 in 30} something that really scares me

There’s the easy thing to talk about: Cockroaches-crickets-beetles….any bug with spindly hairy legs. UGH. They creep me the fuck out. I will be the totally stereotypical girl and scream and shudder and run from the room. It all stems from my little brother and his torture tactics. You see, he used to catch whatever he could get his grubby little paws on (in Arizona, this means crickets) and throw it down my shirt. Then that nasty little creature would try frantically to get out of it’s new fabric prison using my body as its ladder *shudder* You can imagine the complication that happened when I started having to wear a bra, yes?

TORTURE.

The harder thing to talk about is a serious illness befalling my child. When Sprog was wee, we spent a lot of time at Texas Children’s Hospital. A LOT. We saw all manner of specialists. We had all manner of tests. We were in for weeks at a time. He was poked and prodded, he was strapped to various machines, he was in the stainless steel army crib, he almost spent his first Christmas in the hospital (got out just two days prior) he was diagnosed and mis-diagnosed with diseases that no one has ever heard of, hospital staff included. It was a very scary and taxing time and it went on FOR YEARS. He was hospitalized 5 times before the age of 4 years old and that isn’t counting the other times where he just had nebulizer treatments (they finally gave us one at home) or bronchitis or pneumonia or he busted his eye open and had to have stitches or he had an allergic reaction to an antibiotic and so on and so on.

He turned blue and no one, NOT A SINGLE DAMN PERSON could tell us why. He was rushed past sick children in hospital beds in hallways. HALLWAYS. The hospital was 103% of capacity but my kid got a room. If that doesn’t tell you your child is in dire straights, I don’t know what does. They put an IV in his freaking forehead at one point (he ripped it out of his hand).

After 8 specialists thought he had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis he was finally diagnosed with something called HSP (the longer name is way too much to type out with the umlauts and shit) and is something that only one other person in the ENTIRE hospital had even heard of. When we later had to rush him to the emergency clinic (affiliated with the hospital) they had no idea what we were talking about and the nurse practitioner had to go double check the information I gave her about what he had.

One (extremely young and well meaning) doctor tried to convince me that my son was hard of hearing because he refused to talk to her. He refused to talk because at that point all doctors terrified him and he was tired, so very tired of being stabbed with needles, jammed with scopes, poked and prodded by strangers and trying to sleep in strange rooms.

We couldn’t even take him to the park, zoo or museums because they are by the hospital and he would freak out and start to cry the minute I took that exit from the freeway.

He’s been really good since he entered school, other than the chicken pox and one bout of the flu, he’s been a really healthy kid…but always in the back of my mind I hold the fear that shoe is going to drop again and it’s not over for us. I really REALLY hope that isn’t the case. He’s been through a lot already.

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