Barium Swallow Study

The good news: Elliot is acting as any two year old should- rebelling against anything we grown ups want to badly. He refused most every attempt at barium-dipped food this morning, wanting instead to point at the stickers on the X-ray, and pluck at the velcro on mama's anti-radiation vest. We managed to get in some banana pudding, and thin milk with barium.

The better news: Both foods went down "the right tube."

Funny thing: I expected to hear something different. Kevin and I both went into this with the expectation that the chest gurgle that seems pretty chronic? was due to this inefficient swallow. I'm not entirely convinced that this limited test with my rebellious son was a real assessment. As the administrator of the test told us, "This is only a snapshot of where he is right now with this." So going forward, I think we'll ask to have this test done every few months...and also pay more attention to this chest gurgle and its frequency.

The quandry: When we met with El's neurologist a year ago, our pediatrician warned us that his approach was to "give the worst case scenario, and let the parents be pleasantly surprised along the way."

His doom and gloom forecast on January 3, 2006 was physically painful: "He may not walk, he may not talk, he may eat out of a tube, he may have seizures (he went on to act out 5 or so different kinds of seizures), he may be deaf, he may be blind, he will probably be in special classes. I do not know. Do you have any questions?"

We were dumbfounded. We finished the appointment in near silence. As we left the appointment, we walked into the Social Services department at Children's. We met with a social worker, whose kindness, and love, and knowledge of all the supports there for our family gave us the safety to cry.

After that meeting, our team of therapists have swept in with the "can do miracles" spirit. I guess that's because many years of experience have shown them what early intervention can do. Their success stories are the stuff of Hallmark movies and Oprah guests. We've adapted their can-do spirit too. Elliot's sheer will and tremendous spirit has slowly erased the neurologist's words, and a month ago (at our third visit with him) we saw our neurologist smile, and acknowledge Elliot's progress. It was a real success.

The quandry is--how to temper the doom and gloom with the can-do spirit...I can't pretend not to know what I do. However, internalizing it and accepting it makes me feel less like a fighter and more like a victim. How do I move forward from here? I know the answer. One day at a time. Just take life one day at a time.

Thursday, we go to El's pediatrician to check out the fluid in his left ear. It's likely from his test that he's got some issues in there. Once we clear up the fluid, we'll be rescheduling the hearing test to check out his left ear. I'm feeling doom and gloom about that test. Maybe that's just the armor I need so I won't be bulldozed here...