Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Colorado Rocky Mountain "Hi"
And as last night I hollered in the rear view mirror at him once more to sit up straight in his backless booster seat and to stop asking me when we would get to the hotel, I squinted hard through the windshield of my rental Hyundai trying to read blurry highway signs, stressed to the max and pitying myself for the lengths I go through to give my son a chance at normalcy. As fatigue and worry about being lost on a busy dark highway set in, I thought, what the heck am I doing? Last time we were here it was a disaster. What was I thinking?
I admit that it may seem extreme and perhaps desperate to fly to Colorado on my own with my son, staying in a cheap motel and shuffling him and myself to 3 days of treatment, multiple appointments a day, and paying big no-covered-by-insurance bucks to a Naturopath who reassured me a few weeks ago that "the good news is that we can get him back." It was music to my ears as I explained to her that after we did the initial Brain Integration Therapy with her, Finbar was completely normal for 2 weeks, like we had never experienced. BUT, I explained to her something had gone terribly wrong. A switch was flipped after those 2 weeks and everything seemed to have short circuited and has gone awry since then. Then the doctor confirmed my hunch without my even mentioning it. The chelation we did following the BIT set off something, likely moving metals in his brain around, which had altered the good she had done. But she said "I can get him back, I have seen this before." Phew. Just have to get our butts on a plane, spend some more dough on this child and all is well.
I should be used to it by now. We have done two other similar trips for therapies. Costs a lot of time adn money, but how do you put a price on opening up neural pathways that allow your child to express love for others, jump off boulders fearlessly, tolerate the crunch of an apple and write his name? As I drove white knuckles through the sleet in the dark trying to find this podunk town of Niwot, full of guilt for hollering at Finney too much during the tired drive, lost on I-25, I thought - ya know, if he had cancer, there would be no question I would travel to the ends of the earth for any remote chance of curing him. And so I embraced my stress and pushed aside any worry of skepticism for what I was doing for him and gave him a big hug when we reached our room. I snuggled him tight before collapsing in the king bed next to him and reminded myself when I was awoken by his tossing and turning umpteen times during the night that I knew what I was doing was right.
So here I sit, 10 minutes until the end of Finbar's 4th hour of therapy today, relaxed. He has done quite well all things considered - not easy for any 5 yr old to lie on a table for 4 hours in one day. 3 hours tomorrow, 2 the next and then a flight home on Saturday. I wonder what he will be like in 3 days..I shudder with both dread and excitement, depending on the outcome. Right now I don't care, I have my chamomile, my peace and when I pick him up in 10 minutes, we plan to go hot tubbing at the hotel. It is going to snow big tomorrow too. Yes, quite an adventure :)
Postscript: went hot tubbing, made dinner in our room (mac n cheese, PB&J, gingerale and OJ mixed, and left over pizza for mom), played many rounds on the Leapfrog Explorer, Finbar drew in his "journal" and played photographer and now we are having snacks (waffles and more PB&J) before bedtime while we watch Kipper and chat. Do I detect a hint of happiness and flexibility in him that was not there yesterday???