Thursday, October 27, 2011

N-Zilla my loveable and destructive son is not a spectrum test. Part 1

First let me start this post off by saying I think Santa Rosa Hospital in Down Town San Antonio is great.  We frequent there.  With four kids and what not.  I'm surprised we don't have our own wing.  

On average each kid has two E.R visits per year.  Soooo....out of twelve months I'm there like eight times.  And that is a slow year.  

Again my experiance with this hospital and staff have overall been loving and caring and great.  This post is more about people.  Not the Hospital.

I know you get it now...I love Santa Rosa.

A few weeks ago I picked up N-Zilla from the M.I.L's after work.  She had been picking him up from the bus while I was at work.  (And for that Lady Silva, I am great full.  This 30on mom needs to work and you have helped.).  When I got there, M.I.L told me that N-Zilla my little Loveable and Destructive son had had his left hand in a fist for the past 4 hours.  He wouldn't open it to drink out of his sippy cup or play with his cars.  He wouldn't even open it up for F.I.L, Which N-Zilla adores.  His hand looked swollen.  

I asked N-Zilla what happened.  The usually mommy questions

1. Did you fall down?
2. Did something bite you?
3. Did somebody hurt you?
4. You want Candy? K, open your hand and I will give you candy.
5. You want Thomas the Train? Open your and hand and I will give it to you.

Of course days of all days this is would be a day that N-Zilla did not like to make eye contact.  Not to mention...although his verbal skills are freak'n awesome, he's just not able to carry a conversation of "what happened" yet. 

Now, I am not the strongest person but I have been able to pry open a hand or two to remove dangerous or  chocking items from kids hands.

This time no luck.  It was like N-Zilla's hand was cement shut.  And every time I tried opening his hand he screamed his little Zilla lungs out.

Phone call to a fellow Suburban Homie to ask for babysitting for The Lilith (aka The Baby).  Off to the E.R we went.  Phone call to N-Zilla's teacher to ask if anything happened at school.  Phone call to bus dispatch to see if anything happened on the bus. Nope and Nope.

Great.  I was thinking how was I going to explain this at the E.R.  "My son's hand won't open. Fix it."

This is where I write what this post is really  about.

I was getting weird looks from the nurses because N-Zilla was not responding to any of their questions.  He wasn't making eye contact.  And he was covering his ears.  Reluctantly I had to tell them that N-Zilla is in the Autistic Spectrum.  Reluctantly, because often times I am confused and mostly just focused on raising my SON.

"Oooooooh, I see".  I am starting to find a complex with this sentence from perfect strangers.  

Now we come to the part when people. Not close family and friends, but people.  Just people.  Want to "see" what part of the spectrum he is on.  

To be continued because The Lilith woke up and I have to lay down with her...  So here is a pic to hold you over until the next post.

1 comment:

  1. anxiously waiting to see what happened...but I tend to always declare Bub's position on the spectrum the min I am in the ER as it gets us in faster and I tend to get a better Nurse (ie- one that understands the definition of "non-verbal child w/ autism") that will actually ask me how to start their assessment and what procedures to avoid/alter to help him stay calm. I hope it wasn't a bad experience for you.