The Brains and the Bees
Andrew had his neurologist appointment yesterday. Bottom line: he's fine. His follow-up EEG from two weeks ago showed a perfectly normal kid, no blips that would indicate the onset of epilepsy. All evidence points to the seizure he had in April as being a complex febrile seizure (complex because of the length, not because of any other underlying issues). The only thing we missed was that somehow, despite the doctor ordering one, Andrew didn't get a genetic test while we were in the hospital. Apparently there's a genetic marker that indicates if a person is more likely to have complex seizures instead of your regular standard no-more-than-ten-minutes seizure. The marker doesn't make you more or less likely to have a seizure, period, but it does indicate which kind you'd likely get, and the only reason the doctor wanted it was because Andrew's first seizure happened to be the complex (read: hour-long in duration) sort.
We also got a prescription for a sort of Epi-pen of seizures: you know how people allergic to peanuts or bee stings carry around epi-pens? Yeah, they make them for seizures, too. Who knew? You don't want to know how it's administered. Trust me.
So we're weaning him off the anti-seizure meds over the course of the next three weeks. He'll be off them entirely by mid-July. We've also got to redo his medical clearance for going overseas - but Bill's sort of waffling over whether or not we want to take him overseas at all. If we were going somewhere vaguely Western - like, say, I don't know, London - this would not be an issue. Unfortunately, Bill would be bored stiff in London, and so he tends to bid for places like, oh, say, I don't know, Kyrgyzstan, which usually have less than stellar emergency services. (To say nothing of emergency pediatric services.)
*sigh*
In the meantime, I get to gather all the records and exam results and a letter detailing prognosis and treatment, etc etc, so that we can turn it into the medical clearance folkses and let them look at it. I anticipate a great deal of Andrew's naptime being taken up with me on the phone chasing down MRIs. Yay.
In other news, I can absolutely confirm that I am not allergic to bees.
Scene: Leesburg Animal Park, Tuesday. I've left Andrew with Moms #1 and #2 and their offspring while I head over to the restrooms.
Me: Huh, there's a rock in my shoe.
Bee: BZZZZ.
Me: THAT'S NOT A ROCK! EEK!
Bee: *STING*
Me: OW.
Bee: *flies away*
Me: OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW.
I fall down and cradle my right foot. My instep is beginning to burn like insanity. After what seems like half an hour, someone notices that I've fallen and I can't get up.
Mom #1: Sharon?
Me: I got stung by a bee.
Mom #1: Are you allergic?
Me: No idea.
Mom #1: Can you breathe?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Can you swallow?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Okay, let me know if that changes.
Me: Sure.
Bee: BZZZZZZZ.
Me: OMG IT'S BACK.
Mom #1: Returned to the scene of the crime.
Bee: *lands on my leg*
Me: ACK. GET IT OFF ME.
Mom #1: Okay, it's gone.
Me: Whew.
Mom #1: Do you want my epi-pen?
Me: Why do you have an epi-pen?
Mom #1: I'm allergic to bees.
Me: THEN WHY DID YOU NOT RUN SCREAMING WHEN IT RETURNED???? I WOULD RUN SCREAMING, BUT I'M DISABLED NOW.
Mom #1: Eh. Bee.
Me: I still have to pee.
Mom #1: Drama queen.
I head to the restroom - I can walk fine, strangely enough. It's on the way back that the venom really starts to kick in - it hurts to walk, so I start limping.
Mom #1: Breathing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Swallowing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Do you want some aspirin?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: It's got a little Valium dust on it, that a problem?
Me: Remind me what Valium does?
Mom #1: It'll make you really, really happy.
Me: Bring it on.
Of course, I think the bee was retaliating: I accidentally swallowed a fly last Friday. I don't know why I swallowed that fly. I have not, to date, swallowed a spider, and frankly, I don't plan to.
The good news: my foot no longer hurts, I can still breathe, and I can still swallow. On the other hand, my instep itches like crazy, which is just an annoying place to have an itch. Stupid bee.
Dear Bee,
Thank you for stinging me. Here, have a first-class pre-paid ticket back to Melissa Majoria. And just for that, I'm buying honey tomorrow. YOUR CHILDREN WILL STARVE, BEE. Think on that.
No love,
Me
We also got a prescription for a sort of Epi-pen of seizures: you know how people allergic to peanuts or bee stings carry around epi-pens? Yeah, they make them for seizures, too. Who knew? You don't want to know how it's administered. Trust me.
So we're weaning him off the anti-seizure meds over the course of the next three weeks. He'll be off them entirely by mid-July. We've also got to redo his medical clearance for going overseas - but Bill's sort of waffling over whether or not we want to take him overseas at all. If we were going somewhere vaguely Western - like, say, I don't know, London - this would not be an issue. Unfortunately, Bill would be bored stiff in London, and so he tends to bid for places like, oh, say, I don't know, Kyrgyzstan, which usually have less than stellar emergency services. (To say nothing of emergency pediatric services.)
*sigh*
In the meantime, I get to gather all the records and exam results and a letter detailing prognosis and treatment, etc etc, so that we can turn it into the medical clearance folkses and let them look at it. I anticipate a great deal of Andrew's naptime being taken up with me on the phone chasing down MRIs. Yay.
In other news, I can absolutely confirm that I am not allergic to bees.
Scene: Leesburg Animal Park, Tuesday. I've left Andrew with Moms #1 and #2 and their offspring while I head over to the restrooms.
Me: Huh, there's a rock in my shoe.
Bee: BZZZZ.
Me: THAT'S NOT A ROCK! EEK!
Bee: *STING*
Me: OW.
Bee: *flies away*
Me: OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW.
I fall down and cradle my right foot. My instep is beginning to burn like insanity. After what seems like half an hour, someone notices that I've fallen and I can't get up.
Mom #1: Sharon?
Me: I got stung by a bee.
Mom #1: Are you allergic?
Me: No idea.
Mom #1: Can you breathe?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Can you swallow?
Me: .....Yes.
Mom #1: Okay, let me know if that changes.
Me: Sure.
Bee: BZZZZZZZ.
Me: OMG IT'S BACK.
Mom #1: Returned to the scene of the crime.
Bee: *lands on my leg*
Me: ACK. GET IT OFF ME.
Mom #1: Okay, it's gone.
Me: Whew.
Mom #1: Do you want my epi-pen?
Me: Why do you have an epi-pen?
Mom #1: I'm allergic to bees.
Me: THEN WHY DID YOU NOT RUN SCREAMING WHEN IT RETURNED???? I WOULD RUN SCREAMING, BUT I'M DISABLED NOW.
Mom #1: Eh. Bee.
Me: I still have to pee.
Mom #1: Drama queen.
I head to the restroom - I can walk fine, strangely enough. It's on the way back that the venom really starts to kick in - it hurts to walk, so I start limping.
Mom #1: Breathing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Swallowing?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: Do you want some aspirin?
Me: Yes.
Mom #1: It's got a little Valium dust on it, that a problem?
Me: Remind me what Valium does?
Mom #1: It'll make you really, really happy.
Me: Bring it on.
Of course, I think the bee was retaliating: I accidentally swallowed a fly last Friday. I don't know why I swallowed that fly. I have not, to date, swallowed a spider, and frankly, I don't plan to.
The good news: my foot no longer hurts, I can still breathe, and I can still swallow. On the other hand, my instep itches like crazy, which is just an annoying place to have an itch. Stupid bee.
Dear Bee,
Thank you for stinging me. Here, have a first-class pre-paid ticket back to Melissa Majoria. And just for that, I'm buying honey tomorrow. YOUR CHILDREN WILL STARVE, BEE. Think on that.
No love,
Me