Today we met with someone considered to be one of the top dev peds in the area – Dr. Charles Conlon. We spent two hours rehashing all the things that have made life so hard over the past 6 years. It is amazing how quickly I can fall into that deep pit feeling of hopelessness after spending years of trying to climb out of it. Year one what do you remember, year two and so on. We ended up with hearing that Seamus will likely benefit from medication and heard many new types of diagnoses bantered about. Not sure how many labels we are up to now.
It was grueling and it reminded me how tiring this journey is. We went out for a drink after wards. It didn’t help. I was mad. Mad at myself that I got preeclamptic in the pregnancy. Mad that I didn’t make more noise with the doctors about not feeling my baby move in utero, mad that I have a bloodline that has the capacity to produce someone so flawed, mad that my husband had nothing to say when asked if there is any history of mental health issues in his family . And, finally, so mad that I am now have to fix my son who has all the best qualities of my dad and his worst as well.
We return in two days with our son for him to be looked at and tested. Yet another test, another evaluation, more recommendations, more followups. He is Seamus Inc.
I am mentally fatigued by today and frankly feeling blue because of the memories that were stirred during the meeting. But it’s the only game in town — to keep talking and telling his story til he can hopefully one day advocate for himself. But I have to ask – can he really be “fixed”?
Over and out