We went to LR Children’s Hospital yesterday for another meeting with the doctors about things regarding Summit’s life and such. It was pretty boring, my extensive on-line research has pretty much edge-eh-ma-cated me on all things in that dept. so this was like a review with a Q&A session afterwords. Luckily, we had already done all the required/reccomended tests on Summit so that wasn’t a part of the equation this go around. Summit almost had a heart attack, though, when they tried to take his blood pressure! He fought and screamed when the little cuff tightened on his leg. Yes, leg. We were trying to lessen the trama but he was freaking out so much we had to do the arm and it took a long time to get a reading! Not suprisingly his blood pressure was pretty high… He also screamed when he was measuered. I don’t even remember any of his measurements other than he weighed 22 pounds I think. The only thing that got him calmed down was music Ben played on his iphone. Summit started to breathe evenly again then smiled in happiness- until the few second pause in between songs when he started screaming again!!! We quickly figured out how to switch songs when they were close to the end and go to another one then scroll over so the music was already playing. That worked to get him calmed down completley. The doctor didn’t wear a white coat, so we were fine once in the room. He even smiled at her and wanted her to hold him soon after he met her. Reality is our friend, right?
After seeing the doctor, we went over to see some friends whose little boy has been living there at the hospital for a couple of weeks and will probably continue to be there for awhile longer. He has been in chronic, intense pain for that time and just recently he has been able to get some rest. It’s so hard reading their e-mails, I can’t imagine having to hold down my child when he throws himself around in crazypain from muscle spasms and tries to pull out the wires and things that are keeping him alive. I expected to see haggard, desperate expressions on their faces, instead I saw them smile peacefully and quietly invite me inside the room. He was doing better yesterday, it was his best day and although the room was warm and dark, and although we talked in hushed whispers, their peace was so apparent. They were thankful that their child cried that day, tears pouring down his face when his friend left him after visiting. He hadn’t been able to produce tears until that day. He still can’t talk, but he’s trying to communicate more. I can’t imagine. I hugged Summit even tighter and thanked God for my all my little problems.