In Which We Have A Not So Wonderful Day

Not the best of days today, I'm afraid.

First a little bit of good news-- Connor's rash, though rather nasty looking, hasn't spread at all, and I'm about 95% sure it's just a bad case of diaper rash brought on by the change in brands.  I'm glad I waited before calling the doctor, as I would have looked pretty silly bringing him in for diaper rash.  We switched him back to his old diapers (that'll teach me to buy things because they're on sale) and he was looking much better by this evening.  Anyway, on to the fun that was the rest of our day.

This morning we were supposed to be meeting Jer at an army function, but we ended up late because Connor threw up all over himself and me as I was putting him in his chair to walk out the door.  I got us both cleaned up and changed, went to put him in his chair again, and he staged a repeat performance. 

A shower, yet another change of clothing, and twenty minutes later, we were finally on our way.

We would have arrived only about five minutes late, but as this was a major event of course all of the close wheelchair van parking spots were taken and we ended up driving around for twenty-five minutes looking for a space; finally parking about three blocks away.  We got to the parade field just in time to hear the last ten minutes or so of the ceremony.  That's a little more than fashionably late.

Then we got caught in the rush of everybody trying to leave at the same time, and as a result were ten minutes late to Occupational Therapy.  Lovely.

Connor seemed a little off at therapy-- nothing big; he just told us he was tired and didn't want to work at all.  He's been doing so well with his sensory issues in the past week, and so he did his very best to prove me wrong by not wanting to touch anything.  We all have our off days, I guess-- might have been the change in routine, and the fact that he was probably picking up on me being slightly flustered by being repeatedly late.  I hate being late.  He was also kind of upset about how we saw Daddy and then left him on post instead of bringing him with us.  I think it triggered memories of leaving Jeremy at the hospital.

So we went back home, where Connor decided that instead of taking a nap he was going to have a complete meltdown and cry unless he was held for an hour and a half.  Finally he calmed down and I put him to bed.  Then instead of cleaning the house, I took a nap.  Priorities schmorities-- I needed a nap.  Unfortunately Connor woke up a scant hour later and immediately began crying again.  I got up and groggily staggered into his room to pick him up.  I don't wake up from mid-nap very easily.  After a while he calmed down and was perfectly fine so long as he was no more than two feet from me at any given time and could see me.  This made cleaning, cooking dinner, etc. pretty much impossible.  I finally decided that instead of trying to throw something together with what we had in the fridge, I'd run with Connor down to the grocery store and pick up something ready made, as it would be easier to deal with, and maybe the change in scenery would distract the little guy for a bit.  I got him in the car and we were almost to the grocery store when he slumped over sideways.

Yep.  Seizure.

So I ended up screeching into the grocery store parking lot and doing mouth-to-mouth on my kid outside instead of going in to find the chocolate I so desperately needed.  This one was about two and a half minutes long, and I did rescue breathing for about a minute and forty-five seconds of that.  Connor woke up, threw up all over the floor of our van, and then, surprisingly, seemed to be feeling okay-- he was actually less cranky than he had been earlier in the day.  I have to wonder if maybe he could feel the seizure coming on, and that was part of the reason for the crankiness.  At any rate, since I was already at the grocery store and Connor had to stay in his wheelchair to get home anyway, I ran in with him and grabbed something to eat.

Or at least, I tried to run in, but I discovered at the checkout line I'd left my wallet in the van.  Then when I got back out to the van I realized that instead of actually pulling into a parking spot, I'd only pulled Rowbert about halfway in, so the entire rear half of my van was sticking out into the road.  I ended up just grabbing my wallet and going back in, ignoring all of the irate looks I was getting, as Connor's postictal drowsiness was starting to wear off and he was making dangerously crabby noises again.  We went home where he was extremely sad lying in his bed for about ten minutes before falling asleep.  It's shaping up to be a great night too-- he's already thrown up three times since I put him down.  He's not running a fever or congested at all, though, so I think the seizure just unsettled his stomach.

Oh, and did I mention his entire left side was completely paralyzed by the seizure?  Last time I cleaned him up he was just starting to move it a little. 

Poor little guy.  What a day.

~Jess