Have I mentioned lately that I'm still in therapy? And that I'm making great strides in understanding what drives my mood and behavior? The work we've been doing has been intense and, at times, very difficult, but I am quite better off for having processed it. I have found a therapist who is truly an amazing, smart woman who is not only an accomplished professional but gets me (hell, she even sews and knits) and that really, really helps. She's opened my mind and encourages me to go deep - to really explore ideas and feelings - and also has me on a sort of 12-step program, only I don't drink or do drugs. Instead, I am addicted to a semblance of control over things, and when there are things I can't "fix," I resort to my "original hurt." Which, in short, means I can become super insecure and confused and feel unlovable when life forces me into situations where I'm not the one calling the shots or making things happen. It has a lot to do with not being able to really trust people, which was hardwired into me when I was a little girl.
And I don't tell you this because I want you to feel sorry for me - oh no - I share rather because it may be helpful to some of you and I am quite happy that I'm making all these discoveries. It's making me better...you can't change the past but you can change the way you deal with it. This is long overdue.
June is coming up in a few months and there is a small fear in me that the warmer weather - springtime - will trigger some postpartum PTSD flashbacks again, like last year. These flashbacks are horrible - I can only liken them to perhaps a panic attack (which I've never had, but have witnessed and have several close friends who've suffered them) in that it really physically feels like I'm going through the delivery aftermath all over again. The worst ones are ICU-related, though the one when I'm waking up from surgery too early runs a very close second. Last week I had to have a CT scan for some shortness of breath (PNH makes me prone to clots so my hematologist errs on the side of caution whenever I have breathing complaints, especially to rule out a pulmonary embolism) - anyway, the scan itself mentally brought me back to THAT TIME, and I must say I did an excellent job of avoiding a meltdown. I wanted to scream and resist but instead I breathed and thought of good things and made it through with a smile, and that says something because I frickin' HATE CT scans - if you've ever had to endure the dye, you know why ;-). My lungs came back negative but sneaky Dr. Cutting Edge threw in a whole body scan while I was there and they found a softball-sized cyst on my ovary. Long story short - one ultrasound later, the cyst was going down and is functional vs. complex, so it should go away on its own. I feel better. And I feel good knowing that I'm at the point where the smells/procedures/IVs/beeps of a hospital aren't freaking me out like they did perhaps less than a year ago. I'm getting better.
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In other news, I received two orthopedic-related reports this week: one from Smacky's ortho who diagnosed the femoral anterversion, and the other from his physical therapist at the school. It's amazing how differently two professionals can see the same situation, and, as far as I'm concerned, they're both on equal ground given the fact that the PT spends several hours a week with him and the doc, though more qualified to expound on medical issues, saw him once for a mere 15 minutes.
In short, the doc mentioned autism three times in his report...though not all gloom and doom, he basically deferred the issue as one that needs the attention of developmental experts. The PT, on the other hand, raved about how Smacky loves Gross Motor Group and is a quick study. She clearly adores him and is very optimistic about his prognosis, even if he were to receive only minimal intervention. She feels that he is the type of kid who, with the right attention, can easily overcome his developmental deficits. She is so darn rosy about his future I sincerely want to HUG her and let her come live here and stay in the guest room. I'd cook for her while she kept telling me how Smacky is usually the first to volunteer to try new therapy activities and I'd bake her her favorite cake as she raved about his remarkable ability to JUMP (with two feet! at the same time!) on his own or how he's THIS CLOSE to alternating feet while descending stairs. This PT has done wonders for him in a relatively short time and therefore, she's got some street cred with me. I'm learning that the school, for legal and financial reasons, certainly leans toward minimalizing developmental issues so I need to take what she says with some salt, but damn if Ms. PT isn't the bright spot in my day lately. She's got me so pumped that I up and signed Mr. Smacky up for some swimming lessons. And before you think I'm dumber than a bag of hammers, know that long ago I nominated the hubs to be The One in Charge of Teaching the Boys to Swim...what better way to indoctrinate him than with sensory-challenged Mr. Smacky? Heh. I'm kidding...they'll have a ball (I hope).
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J now says "butterfly" and "go downstairs." Z has been throwing A LOT of hissy fits involving purple-faced screaming when he doesn't get his way. And Smacky is urgently trying to master the art of the knock knock joke. If you have any good ones, please leave a comment!
Happy weekend!
