The blogging world has fallen off my list the last few months. Sad but true, life continues as we fall beneath the swells of it. Now the mixture of scents brings me back to this world that I have missed. A sweet fragrance of laundry soap, bath water and vomit. Mmmmm. Just like old times.
It's nearly 2am right now and I just finished putting Ellie back to bed after yet another night of vomiting. It makes me sad and frustrated. We've been nearly 4 years free of the cyclic vomiting and now it has reared it's ugly head. I'm out of practice and not as keenly tuned to her sounds pre-vomit...so I've washed a lot of sheets the past week and a half. Those of you that have followed me for a long time might remember reading on our original website at www.fightautism.webs.com about cyclic vomiting. From birth, Ellie cycled. Seemingly normal behavior all day and evening followed by a random non-waking incident of vomiting in the middle of the night, typically between 12 and 1 am. I just washed vomit out of Ellie's hair (which now nearly reaches her lower back) again, for about the 7th or 8th time in the past week and a half. She literally almost slept through the bath. It's both strange and terrifying. When I find her she's usually flat on her back with her face and neck covered in vomit. I've always feared aspiration and we've been blessed by her always clearing her own airway. It' helps too that she's close to my room and I'm usually already bedside as she's vomiting. It's amazing (and such a blessing) that she always has managed to clear her airway after vomiting while laying on her back. God is good, even as we struggle.
I feel washed over with an entire series of emotions all over again. Each round of life, every change, every new development forces me into another phase of somethingness. I don't want to say "grief" because I want to think that I've grieved and I'm past it. Even as I write it, I laugh at myself. How many times can a person cycle through denial?? I just read a book talking about how grief isn't really phases, but rather waves that wash over you and then return to wash over again.
As I'm washing through her long locks of hair, thinking about how rotten it is that this has returned, I'm wondering if Mayo would have any new insight into this. We've run the GI workups before, done days of monitoring watching for an EEG correlate, nothing's ever come of it. I'm weighing the advantage and possibilities of testing, while considering the disadvantages of a scope, more x-rays, radioactive barium. I'm wondering what Ellie would choose; would she say, "It's not that bad to throw up in the night. Ten nights of vomiting is better than all the annoyance of testing. I cry less tears over vomiting in my own house than I do in the hospital doing all those tests." I resolve to ask her tomorrow, to give her the choice, let her decide this time. I'm coaching myself to really let her have the final say, I'm prepping in my head how I'll help her weigh the pros and cons and then really turn it over to her and let her decide.
The fresh sent of vomit still lingers, regardless of the pile of blankets and jammies already swirling in the washer. I'm thinking about how early tomorrow will come, the list of things to do tomorrow, already knowing that the day will be so full. I am reminded that life continues, even as we fall beneath the swells of it.
