For the last few weeks at school, when they have had school that is, P has been getting regular asthma attacks at school. Only at school and only at a specific time. The regularity of it worried me, the timing worried me and the fact that it didn't happen out of school peaked my interest. He wasn't faking, he was definitely wheezing, the school nurse confirmed it.
My ex was the one the school kept calling. He would call the doctor and call me. I felt a bit out of the loop. I usually take the lead with medical issues. Usually because I can explain things better and pass along a message clearly. But with me at my parents house I was not around to take care of my children's medical issues. I was taking care of my parent's medical issues.
Still the "asthma" attacks nagged at me. This week started out with another asthma attack. As usual the meds didn't work and the symptoms eventually went away after a couple of hours. Usually after school was over. That night P came up to me and asked me if he had to go to school the next day. If he goes to immediate care and is kept out late sometimes I would keep him home. Especially if he didn't get much sleep. However in this case he was home before school let out and staying home wasn't an option.
He begged me to let him stay home. He pleaded with me and told me how scared he was about having another attack. I don't blame him there is not much scarier than not being able to breathe. My mom just went through that with an obstructed trachea. She ended up needed a tracheotomy. He was in tears and there was real fear in his voice. He clung to me with a death grip. He wasn't being silly and this was not fake. He was afraid to go back to school.
The next day I called his pediatrician and made an appointment for him. This was more than asthma. I was sure he was having anxiety issues. I had no idea how bad it was though. Luckily I was on the right track. Luckily I made that phone call and luckily I told my ex that I was taking P to the doctors and I was taking an afternoon of work off to do it. He didn't think it was urgent and didn't want to pay the copay. I would pay the full amount for the visit if I had to.
The appointment was for the next day. That day I also found out that P had failed English last quarter of school. He wasn't handing in his assignments. He was misplacing textbooks and assignments in school. His teachers were concerned and now I was too. I was almost in tears. The last few months added to this was about all I could take. Still I was at work and I had to pick up the kids from art. Back to the real world where I had to act like everything was okay and teach some math and reading.
That night I was mad! My dad went to bed and P asked to watch TV. Seriously I find out he is lying to me about homework, and failing English. NO! No, TV for you! He is in tears and screaming at me, telling me how much he hates me (to which I always reply that I love him) and that I am the worst Mom EVER!!!
Even after I went upstairs I could hear him crying and I remembered what it was like when I was a child and I thought my parents were the worst and how alone I felt when that happened. Of course I went back downstairs and called him over to the couch. He sat next to me and I hugged him, just a tight hug and told him that I loved him. That was exactly what he needed.
Before I knew it he was telling me that he couldn't handle school. He had three locker combinations to remember, he couldn't remember which binder was for each class, where all his classes where, who his teachers were, what his homework was, what he needed to hand in to whom, where he needed to go after school, what house he would go to, when would he see Dad, when would he see me, what items were at each house... He is in sixth grade. He was overwhelmed and I think almost ready to pop.
To hear your 11 year old say that he can't handle school over and over again and to know from to quiver in his voice and the uncontrollable sobbing that this was real was almost more than I could handle. I listened to him and told him I would do anything I could to help him out. I held him and let him cry in my arms for two hours. I made sure I was there for him and I was so glad that I made that doctors appointment for the next day. Even the next morning when he went off to school and I saw the fear in my eyes I knew that I was on the right track to finding a way to help him.
Right off the bat at the doctors office I told P's Pediatrician that I thought it was anxiety and he immediately aground with me. He picked up on the fact that my ex was not someone who understood anxiety or how it can effect the body. He had no idea. Yes, my ex was fired by our psychologist. I had already called my psychologist, who had helped P before his diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome. I also had emailed (it bounced back), called (I was transferred to another extension) and walked into my son's school psychologist office to let him know my suspicions and to see if the school could help P out.
Everything I had done was exactly what his pediatrician wanted me to do. He was hoping P could be seen soon by the psychologist, luckily I was going there that night. It had been a few years since I had last gone, but my world has abruptly changes these last few months so I gave him a call. HELP!!
He also agreed with me and because he can't get P in for at least 4 weeks he refereed us to another practice. P needs help now. Of course when I told D about all of this he heard it with reservations. He wants nothing to do with the mental health services. I hope that P doesn't pick up on that.
That night P offered to do the dishes, not something he usually does. He was so loving and snuggly and happy. He knew I had spent the day starting the process to get him help. I listened and let him talk. I didn't over react and reassured him. Still I couldn't help but think, "When it rains it pours!" How much more can I take? Luckily I called my psychologist and I think I am going to need him!
My ex was the one the school kept calling. He would call the doctor and call me. I felt a bit out of the loop. I usually take the lead with medical issues. Usually because I can explain things better and pass along a message clearly. But with me at my parents house I was not around to take care of my children's medical issues. I was taking care of my parent's medical issues.
Still the "asthma" attacks nagged at me. This week started out with another asthma attack. As usual the meds didn't work and the symptoms eventually went away after a couple of hours. Usually after school was over. That night P came up to me and asked me if he had to go to school the next day. If he goes to immediate care and is kept out late sometimes I would keep him home. Especially if he didn't get much sleep. However in this case he was home before school let out and staying home wasn't an option.
He begged me to let him stay home. He pleaded with me and told me how scared he was about having another attack. I don't blame him there is not much scarier than not being able to breathe. My mom just went through that with an obstructed trachea. She ended up needed a tracheotomy. He was in tears and there was real fear in his voice. He clung to me with a death grip. He wasn't being silly and this was not fake. He was afraid to go back to school.
The appointment was for the next day. That day I also found out that P had failed English last quarter of school. He wasn't handing in his assignments. He was misplacing textbooks and assignments in school. His teachers were concerned and now I was too. I was almost in tears. The last few months added to this was about all I could take. Still I was at work and I had to pick up the kids from art. Back to the real world where I had to act like everything was okay and teach some math and reading.
That night I was mad! My dad went to bed and P asked to watch TV. Seriously I find out he is lying to me about homework, and failing English. NO! No, TV for you! He is in tears and screaming at me, telling me how much he hates me (to which I always reply that I love him) and that I am the worst Mom EVER!!!
Even after I went upstairs I could hear him crying and I remembered what it was like when I was a child and I thought my parents were the worst and how alone I felt when that happened. Of course I went back downstairs and called him over to the couch. He sat next to me and I hugged him, just a tight hug and told him that I loved him. That was exactly what he needed.
To hear your 11 year old say that he can't handle school over and over again and to know from to quiver in his voice and the uncontrollable sobbing that this was real was almost more than I could handle. I listened to him and told him I would do anything I could to help him out. I held him and let him cry in my arms for two hours. I made sure I was there for him and I was so glad that I made that doctors appointment for the next day. Even the next morning when he went off to school and I saw the fear in my eyes I knew that I was on the right track to finding a way to help him.
Right off the bat at the doctors office I told P's Pediatrician that I thought it was anxiety and he immediately aground with me. He picked up on the fact that my ex was not someone who understood anxiety or how it can effect the body. He had no idea. Yes, my ex was fired by our psychologist. I had already called my psychologist, who had helped P before his diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome. I also had emailed (it bounced back), called (I was transferred to another extension) and walked into my son's school psychologist office to let him know my suspicions and to see if the school could help P out.
Everything I had done was exactly what his pediatrician wanted me to do. He was hoping P could be seen soon by the psychologist, luckily I was going there that night. It had been a few years since I had last gone, but my world has abruptly changes these last few months so I gave him a call. HELP!!
That night P offered to do the dishes, not something he usually does. He was so loving and snuggly and happy. He knew I had spent the day starting the process to get him help. I listened and let him talk. I didn't over react and reassured him. Still I couldn't help but think, "When it rains it pours!" How much more can I take? Luckily I called my psychologist and I think I am going to need him!
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