I'll explain this later in the post.
Well, here's the deal. My son has Asperger Syndrome , a disorder at the high functioning end of the autism scale. . .
. . . actually, I had a lot more than this written up, then decided to scrap it. In one day, my son had to see three different doctors. He saw his psychiatrist who referred us to his pediatrician who referred us to a neurologist. What's up is serious enough for all those docs to see him immediately, as in right now, bring him right on in. In fact, the neurologist he had to see is the same one I have to wait till the end of February to get my daughter in to see, and she will likely need surgery on her beautiful little brain.
So. Serious stuff.
And I was going to write in disgusting detail all about it, but I'm tired. It's not that I am not concerned, it's that I am so concerned. I'm so concerned that I only have room for that and nothing left for creativity about it.
In the meantime, we wait for the medical group to authorize the sleep-deprived EEG we need to rule things in or out. The bad thing, that stupefying bizarre thing is that the better of two alternatives to hope for is more seizure activity. That is better than the alternative. And I am so tired of all of it, all the doctors, all the medications, all the pain/fear/worry it is causing us all. Not in a mad way, just I am so tired. Really, really tired.
REALLY. Tired.
Which brings me in a kind of odd way to the photo above. The same day all of this went on, I had an overnight appointment at a sleep center to officially diagnose the sleep apnea I have had all my life. Those wires are only some of what was hooked to my head, chest and legs. I never would have believed I could fall asleep virtually wired to the California power supply, but I did and once it was clear that I did stop breathing in my sleep, she came in to try out various masks designed to force air down my throat while I sleep so my airway stays open.
All of which appear designed to make sure my eyes stay open instead.
There's the one that straps on over my nose and the back of my head. There's the one which straps on my head and covers my nose and mouth. There's the one that straps on my head and goes up my nose and they are all hooked up to a machine with a tube you have seen on any patient in any intensive care unit anywhere on the planet. Snorklers would recognize it too. Christopher Reeve would have nodded at them.
And I can't sleep with any of the damn things. I don't believe anyone could. I would rather live with apnea and the possibility of early death through hypertension than try to sleep with those machines strapped to me.
