The autism whirlwind taunts me. Flashes of OCD and tics bring feelings of dread. The resurgence of OCD or tics has the terrible ability to bring worry of regression and plunge me into a major funk. The dark clouds of fear precariously hover within reach. “Calm down,” I tell myself.
Any idiot can face a crisis – it’s day to day living that wears you out.
– Anton Chekhov
My week so far.
Brody is sent home from ABA. He has a fever, sore throat and he’s complaining he has to burp. I am told one of his teachers is home sick with strep throat. “Oh great,” I think to myself.
Strep throat = crazy town in my house.
He eats lunch and seems okay until I hear… “I’m going to burp!”
The house goes into emergency mode. All hands on deck. Carpets are rolled up, decorative pillows shelved and the handy-dandy throw up bucket comes out of hibernation. And almost, as if on que, an explosion of Old Faithful proportions takes place. I chase him with the bucket hoping the house remains unscathed. After a couple of minutes pleading with him to throw up in the bucket and not on the floor, he nonchalantly proclaims, “I feel better now.”
We make it through the day with only one more “burping episode.”
Brody is eating and drinking. Fever is gone. Complains of a sore throat occasionally. I see some teeny red dots in the back of his throat. Maybe we are not out of the woods…ugh. Just in case, I call to make a doctor appointment.
We are not out of the woods. Wakes up complaining of a sore throat and I notice some spots on his feet that look like mosquito bites. Brody is not amused with his new additions. We get to the doctor and I now notice spots on his hands. At this point, I no longer suspect strep. My bet is on Coxsackie Virus.
Bingo, I end up being right. Since it is a virus, we have to ride it out.
The spots end up driving him crazy all day long. They burn, itch, etc. During his shower that night, I make the mistake of telling him the water will wash the spots away and he will feel better. I know better than this. He’s not stupid. He knows I’m lying.
There was no sleep in our house that evening. He obsessed and complained about the spots all night and into the wee hours of the morning. He was so tired he was no longer rational. This was the first time we were introduced to “time fixation.” “What comes after 10:00?” “What comes after 11:00?” “Where is 13 o’clock?!” You get the picture. (P.S. This still will reappear when he is feeling anxious.)
It was a very long night.
His spots have now taken on a blister like appearance. It reminds me of chicken pox right before they dry up. Hopefully, this is an indication “it” is nearing the end. I’m thinking I am over Coxsackie. I need to sleep tonight!
Wish me luck.