Hell Hath No Fury Like a Fired Up Char!

I’ve been order to update this blog and since the order’er is one who controls my carnal proprieties I’ll comply. That and I guess it’s my turn. It seems like I haven’t done this forever and to be honest I’ve procrastinated because I fear that if I get going the update will just turn into a giant rant with an air of negativity that doesn’t belong here.

Charlie had a visit with his Rehab Doc., Terry S-N. What a gal and what a great physician. We were really looking forward to this visit because Charlie has not been a very good boy lately. You know what? I’m not going to sugar coat this… the past few months have sucked! We don’t know for sure what started it, but our best guess is that when we changed some of Char’s meds his system and damaged little noodle were less than pleased and expressed their disapproval by turning my sweet little man into an inconsolable demon offspring of Hades’. Now if you’re saying to yourself, "Man Charlie’s dad is a real jerk, doesn’t he know that he has a brain injury and can’t help it?!?!" Let me be the first to assure you that the import of my son’s condition is etched so piquantly* in my little noodle that not a second passes where it’s not my most keen concern. Any of you close to Charlie please feel free to utilize the comment section to offer you endorsement of our hero’s recent demeanor. Granted I have been known to spin a decent yarn from time to time, but not even I can embellish the substantiality of having to hold and coddle your child for 16 hours a day, 7 days a week because if you lay him down for more than 11 seconds (we counted) he instantly combusts into a frothing hyper-tonic piece of pissed off dude. After about 60 seconds he’s sweating like a fat man at a free dance and the screams go silent because he can no longer draw air all the while his mood grows more vehement every moment. The poor kid got kicked out of therapy! Now how bad is it for you when you become so un-fun that therapists, the most patient people on earth, say "I think we need to take a couple of months off and see if you can get him mellowed out." Poor deaf brain damaged lazy eyed drooling therapy dropout. I guess it’s good Charlie has no idea about self-esteem, cause I don’t think you can give Prozac through a G-tube. During our first experiences with this new mood we thought that we could just put him in his bed and he’d tire and exhaust himself and eventually fall asleep. We let him go one night to see how long he could keep it up and after about an hour and a half he was sweating so profusely that dehydration became a real concern and I succumbed and parented again. This may sound insensitive but I now know why parents shake their kids. I say that only as a point of emphasis and I assure you Charlie has not been shaken and should anyone try they will find me sideways of them. Again, if you don’t believe me just ask someone who isn’t full of it, i.e. my wife. Or I could just set Char down, wait 11 seconds, take some video and post it here. You let me know.

Luckily, his ire has receded in the last week and with the light and knowledge received from Dr. Terry we have hope. Angel has been given certain latitudes to liberally alter medication at her discretion with the goal of long-term placation. Cross your fingers as we try and walk the fine medicinal line of well-tempered vs. well-doped. I guess if you want the nitty gritty details you can call Angel and talk to her. She’s way better with that kind of stuff. It’s better for all of us if we leave the details to her and the bloviating to me. I’ve just never been that into knowing when he had his last suppository or if his meds changed from 1.33 ml. to 1.5 ml. Sorry.

So the 5k is coming up and we’re all excited to see you again. We hope you can come! My sibs have been put on the committee and I’m told that with Meg’s degree in party planning and Suz’s OCD things will run ultra smooth. Tell your friends and just know that if you don’t show up and I think that you should have, you better have an awesome excuse like your preggo and about to calf out, like Sport. Or the next time we see you Charlie will give you the stink eye (with his good/straight eye) and cry because he thinks you don’t love him. How’s that for guilt?

*(meggie/whit, adv. –sharp/stinging)