Have You Been Sitting on the Edge of Your Seat, Too?

Last week Mad had her EEG.  The instructions were clear and simple:  Wake her up no later than 6:00 A.M. and bring her with clean hair.

Madelyn is a morning person.  Six o'clock would be like getting up 15-30 minutes earlier than she does on her own.

We kept her up about 90 minutes later than usual and then woke her up around 3:45 to go with Daddy to Grandma's.  (Hey, it said she had to get up early, not me!)  And right after Tom called to say he would grab Madelyn before her appointment (I was running late... it was a crazier morning with just one than with two!), I called Margaret and asked her to please wash Mad's hair.

Once upon a time, my life was under control.

Only one parent was allowed in for the procedure, which would have been nice to know since Tom took half a day off work to be there.  The tech instructed that it should be the parent who could be the firmest.  I waited for Tom to grandly acknowledge my rightful position, but he just looked at me blankly.  I said, very tactfully (for once), "I think that's probably me."  He nodded.  I went.

The technician, Mary, and her trainee were gentle and friendly, lovely.  I was given a mirror to hold so Madelyn could watch all the scalp cleaning, followed by gooping her up, adding electrodes and covering them with gauze.

Mary praised Mad's ability to follow directions at such a young age and talked soothingly to Mad and me about relaxing.  I wonder how many more times in her life I'll get to watch her fall asleep.  Not many, probably.  It was beautiful and fast and completely unlike trying to get her to nap today.  Within five minutes of the test starting, Mad was out.  Just in time, because my arm was starting to tingle from holding her hands (both a soothing and a don't-touch-that technique).

I watched the screen the same way expectant fathers watch contraction monitors.  I saw the standard brainwaves and I saw some enormous spikes.  Once I saw very low waves.

Mary occasionally made marks on the screen that I couldn't read even with glasses.  Sometimes for the large spikes, but occasionally for what seemed like time intervals.  (There wasn't a clock in the room, so this is just a guess.)  As the 20 minute test was wrapping up, she remarked that our doctor is highly skilled and efficient, and the only person to read ped results.  I was pretty sure it was her secret code for telling me we'd be coming back to see him (instead of getting a call or email).  Not too soon, though, because he was on vacation until the 15th.  She suggested I call or email him to let him know the test had been done anyway.

Not seeing the rush, I waited to send my email until Wednesday morning.

I received a reply a few hours later.  From the doctor.  Who was "stuck in London," but promised to read the report right away upon his return.

Dude, I think tears welled up in my eyes again just from the memory.

This morning I opened my email to find another e-missive.  The results.  Three days before he returns from his vacation.  Yes, I wonder how long it would have taken to get results if we hadn't switched insurance companies, too.

Yes, she had spikes.  If Mad ever does have a seizure, or unprovoked fainting spell we'll need to medicate.

I responded right away to clarify... and yes, the over-excitement and cold ice cream combo counts as a provocation that negates the need for medication at this time.

It's not exactly the clean bill of health we would have loved to get, but it's enough for now.

Tom and I figured these brain spikes could be a factor in Mad's brilliance.  And then we turned relief into ridiculous by arguing about discussing which one of us might have contributed this awesome brain activity.

News of My World

Doesn't involve any hacking, sneaking or listening in on other people's conversations.  But there's a lot to share!

We are feeling increasingly more pleased with our decision to switch to Kaiser.  We met the girls' pediatrician last week and Mad's neurologist today. Every medical professional we've encountered greets us and then tells us why we're there.  Because they've read our file.  Doc walked in this morning and said, "So you're here about the incident in April."

Yes, that was my jaw hitting the floor.

Moreover, he really listened to what we were saying.  We discussed Mad's fall in 2009.  Unlike the neuro we met back then, at no time did our new doc try to insist that Mad had a seizure and then fell.  He listened.  We laid out everything.

Two women in Tom's family have a history of seizures.  Teen onset, lasting through early adulthood.

Mad fell.  Knocked herself out.  Came to.  Went out again.  Had an EEG that showed some minor activity that our old ped, Dr. Present, said could result in a seizure disorder later or could be nothing.

At the birthday party in April, Mad was extremely excited.  By the singing.  Her first candle to blow out.  The frog cupcake.  The ice cream that she was eating way too fast.

She seemed to have a brain freeze followed by a seizure.  But she came to and was her normal self (albeit upset) in a matter of seconds.

What did all of that mean to our new neurologist?

Mad fainted.

Apparently some people are susceptible to vasovagal episodes.  And do you know what can cause them?  I am not joking when I say being excited and eating something cold.

Yes, that was me breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Fortunately, Doc is going to redo the EEG to be on the safe side.  Again unlike the previous neuro, New Doc does not advocate using heavy duty meds to prevent something that may or may not happen.  So if it turns out she is at risk for developing seizures, we will wait to treat them if they show up.

He said Mad seems perfect.  Developmentally appropriate.  Smart.  Pretty (he did say that, but not as part of his diagnosis).

So next up will be an EEG.  Unlike two years ago, Mad isn't likely to fall asleep anywhere we put her (not that she did then), so she'll probably have to be put under for it.  That's our least favorite part of the whole thing, but we'll take it to get the answers we need.

Finding the Funny

Let's be honest, shall we?  There isn't a lot of hi-larity when it comes to my in-laws.  They're just great people.  Of course it goes without saying that they're completely unlike MY family.


***I spoke with my (beloved) Wicked Stepmom today.  She was telling me about some of her nieces and nephews from one of her sisters.  The good one is in jail for "a few years" for failing to report to his parole officer.  So maybe I'm a little intimidated by Tom's nice, normal, well-educated 'rents.  My main goal in any interaction is to not make them feel bad for their son's choice of partner.


Here are a few basic facts:  Judy is a nurse.  A pediatric nurse.  She could be entirely pushy and overbearing about the decisions we make with the kids, but she isn't.  Larry does not work.  He's had MS for about 30 years.  Although his case is relatively mild and progressing slowly, he's told me that he often wakes up feeling like he just ran a marathon: tired and sore.  So the man naps.  I think during their regular life, he probably takes a couple of naps a day.  On vacations, and especially with us, he pushes himself.  Still, a nap a day was in order.


The great thing about our house is that we now have room for guests.  However, we don't have a room.  The sleeper sofa is in the loft.  At the top of the stairs.  Right outside of our room.  From any of our bedrooms, you really can't hear what's happening downstairs.  You can from the loft, although it's muted.  A few days before they arrived, I found a screen that would be perfect to block out sound and give some privacy.  However, the couch wasn't really in our budget, so the screen was out.


Ever wished you'd gone ahead and splurged, even if it seemed wiser not to in the beginning?


First night?  Great.  No problems.  First morning?  The same.  Second night I couldn't sleep.  In fact, I messed around on the computer until nearly 1:00 in the morning.  The baby gate at the foot of the stairs squeaks.  The one at the top is different and clicks loudly as it locks and unlocks.  Five feet from the fam.


Second morning, no surprise, I overslept.  Larry also slept later than usual.  When I came out of our room, there he was, standing (thankfully, with his back to me) in a shirt and his BVDs.


***So maybe a little shiver ran down my spine just now.  It could be cold, right?


I jetted down the stairs, made the coffee and did whatever for what seemed like forever.  Something (it seemed very important at the time) called me back up the stairs.  Only to find Larry still in his unders.


***Brrr.... chilly here!  What is it?  Like 68 degrees outside?  70?


In other, fully-dressed news (please let this be fully-dressed news), Corey has a girlfriend.  His first "real" girlfriend (no, I'm not talking "Lars and the Real Girl"... just that a couple of girls in middle school were girlfriends with whom he did nothing aside from chat during class).  The boy has worked exceptionally hard to get one.  ANY one.  Nearly a month ago I had to block several girls' numbers from his cell.  Instead of toughing it out, he found new girls to text.


Said girlfriend is Lisa.  She looks cute.  Lisa beat out Celina (as opposed Selina... keep 'em straight, wouldja?!?) merely because of timing.  Celina said she just liked Corey as a friend.  She probably wasn't up for his lightning speed getting-to-know-you ritual (which I have overheard on the phone... it goes like this:
"So what kind of car would you like to drive?"
"What's your favorite color?"
"Do you watch G4?"
"Ever have sushi?"
etc., etc., etc.)... or at least not until she found out about Lisa.  But Corey has apparently played it straight.  Anyway, Corey and Lisa are going to Homecoming together.  I have been trying to give him as much dating advice as he'll tolerate.


Madelyn finally had her EEG to rule out any seizures.  The neurologist agreed to schedule it around Mad's naptime so she could just sleep naturally and not be sedated.  In fact, she suggested it before we could say, "Hey, we're all for checking her out, but we are not up for putting her to sleep.  Thanks."  One of the nice things was going back to the hospital where Mad was born.  As with each of the times we've had to go there, the staff were fabulous.  They were very patient with us as we tried to get Mad to sleep. 


Our usual naptime routine is this:
Ask Mad, "Do you want to go upstairs and have a nip-nappy-snip-snappy?"
"No!" (You have to imagine this being said gleefully as she runs over to the stairs... she means "Heck yeah, I want a nap!")
Go up the stairs with Mad in my arms, but in a position that allows her to use the hand rail.  Do a little looby loo.  Check her diaper.  Read a story (unless we've waited too long).  Get Dog.  Get Frog.  Let Mad turn on her music and shut the door.  Kiss everybody and put them all in the crib.  Mad might sit there for a second to get an extra smooch.  Then she folds the animals in her lap and flops over on them.  She stays pretty much in that position with her butt high in the air for 2-3 hours.


In the neurology lab, there was a hospital bed and a whole lot of computer equipment.  Since Mad doesn't use a bottle, sippy cup or binky and she doesn't nurse, we had a small test of willpower to get her sleeping.  I tried sitting in one of the office chairs and spinning slowly to one direction and then the other.


Screeeaming baby.


Singing mama.


Screaming, fighting baby.


Want to go to Dada?


Yeah... NOO!!!  This at least resulted in her face being buried in my shoulder.  Every time she did that, her crying mellowed out.  We probably attempted the hand-off (at her request, not because we're mean) half a dozen times.  Eventually I was able to sit down and snuggle her.  Too soon I tried to lay her down, but it only added a minute or two to our temporary pre-sleep ritual.  She was pretty tired.  We'd gotten her up about two hours earlier than normal.  Getting her to sleep took about 15 minutes, but once Mad was out, she was out.  The only problem came when, halfway through getting electrodes attached to her head with conductive paste, Mad decided it was time to go butt up.  Everything got fixed and the testing went off without a hitch.  If I had to go through it again, I would mention to her that it was naptime, and we would have brought her special sleeping music. 


We get the results tomorrow.  Not sure why the doc wants Mad there, too.  I'm hoping it's just because the receptionist didn't know to mention that Mad's only 18 months old, it's not like she's going to understand the concepts of our conversation.