Woulda Coulda Shoulda

Things have been going along pretty well, post-Monkey-carving. Some might even say TOO well. (Please cue up the foreboding music of your choice right here. I’ll wait.) Despite my fears that post-surgical Monkey would be a giant ball of pain and anguish and HULK ANGRY HULK SMASH misguided energy, for the most part, post-surgical Monkey has been calm and agreeable and positively robot-like in his apparent inability to recognize that he might be in any pain at all, most of the time.

In fact, I was just reading Jean’s post about Jack’s recent dental work and laughing that slightly hysterical “Oh God I’ve been there” laugh that one does when having a there-but-for-the-grace-of-God moment. Because that’s kind of what I expected, this week, was a neverending MAKE IT STOP thrashing from my son. But no. He’s been perfectly fine. The model patient. Particularly if your patient is evidently impervious to pain.

We were thrilled. We were also, it turns out, perfectly positioned for a giant hubris smackdown. And as these things tend to go, I was completely unprepared even though afterward it was CRYSTAL CLEAR exactly what had happened. (more…)

One of the things I truly struggle with, when it comes to Monkey—still—is that he is pretty much a black belt master in rationalization. He has an answer, a justification, an explanation, for EVERYTHING.

Most of the time his conclusions make no sense whatsoever. They come off as elaborate, implausible lies invented by someone who is the world’s worst liar. I often look at him and wonder HOW someone so smart can think that what he’s saying makes any sense at all. But then I (slowly, and with many internal “DUH!”s) realize that this is what life with Asperger’s is like for him; so many things make no sense to him. What we tell him is “right” sometimes feels ridiculous, so the stuff he invents as explanation seems plausible to him, because what is real-world plausible feels similarly ridiculous. (Did that make your head hurt? It made mine hurt.)

Sometimes the things he says totally delight me, because they’re hilarious. Other times they scare the hell out of me, because the conclusions he draws (particularly before/during/after meltdowns) are dark and dangerous. And other times they give me tiny little priceless insights. (more…)

I meant to come back yesterday and talk a little bit about what the ENT told us; we are reaching the end of the “first line” treatment plan for Monkey’s infection, and while I adore the ENT, I think he was unprepared for Monkey’s reaction when he said, “Well, if this doesn’t work, we go to surgery. Oh, don’t worry, we just drill a little hole in your ear and—” Yeah. Monkey—shockingly!—is not interested in letting the good doctor take a drill to his head! Go figure! He voiced his displeasure with this plan, yes indeed.

Basically, we can’t SEE the infection in the mastoid/sphenoid areas without a head scan, but what we CAN see is that he still has a tremendous amount of fluid in his ears and just looks like crap. So we are “following the protocol” and trying one last antibiotic for two weeks, and then it becomes a surgical matter. My understanding is that they would also get up into the sinuses to see what’s going on there, you know, after they drill a hole in his ear. Though Monkey’s general reaction to even the idea of surgery tells me we may have to drug his milk and toss him in the back of the car, A-Team-style, even to get him to the hospital for it.

I was going to tell you all of this yesterday. But then I got a phone call from school saying that Monkey had been suspended and I needed to come get him. (more…)