Surgery is scheduled

It's time.

Dr. Waters wanted us to wait to do the surgery until Quinn's mobility and range of motion stopped improving. He still is showing some very gradual improvement, but in the meantime he's developing a series of work-arounds that result in him using his right arm less and less.

We shared the latest range measurements and these details with Dr. Waters' staff, and they decided it's time to go ahead. April 29 is the first opening, and of course we couldn't get tickets with our frequent flier miles that week. We didn' want to push it much later and subject Quinn to a summer of hell in a cast and brace. So I called American Airlines hoping to get a mom I could appeal to, and lucked out! She agreed to appeal on our behalf, and her supervisor agreed, and that guy's supervisor agreed, so we got the tickets.

I'm relieved, but nervous.

Ice cream - yum!

I ordered some ice cream the other day because it's something I can eat despite my broken jaw. Quinn has shown very little interest in hard-packed ice cream (he does like soft-serve) so I didn't think he'd take too much. Ha! He took a bite, then slid the whole parfait glass in front of him and wouldn't give it back.


I thought he'd give up when he ate through the vanilla and got to the green tea ice cream. Ha! He loved that, too. He did finally stop when he hit the cut-up roll cake at the very, very bottom of the glass. Finally I got some!

One stupid move after another

Sometimes, we really are our own worst enemy. I took an overnight biz trip to Phoenix last week, and my stomach started feeling weird by mid-afternoon. I picked at a small salad for dinner, watched some TV, started shivering and went to bed. When it was pretty clear I was going to throw up, I got up, went into the bathroom, and, bam, passed out cold. I woke up in a puddle of blood, and THEN threw up.

A smart girl would have called 911. Or at least called her husband. Not me. I did think about calling 911, but I decided there was no way I could get to my cell phone WAY across the big room - and even if I could, there was no way I could then get back to the door, which I had bolted, to let in the paramedics. So, bleeding, hurting and with a potential head injury, what did I do? Crawled to bed with a pile of towels to sop up the blood coming from my mouth, ear, nose and a huge gash on my chin, and WENT TO SLEEP. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I bled the night away, then got up, took a shower and decided it really was time to get some help. Did I go to the closest emergency room? Of course not. I wasn't sure what my insurance would cover and I didn't want to be stuck in Phoenix for another night away from Tom and Quinn, so I DROVE TWO HOURS home and called my regular doctor - who saw me and sent me straight to the emergency room. Again, stupid, stupid, stupid.

The diagnosis? I fractured my jaw in one place and broke it badly in another - and the bone from that break ruptured my ear canal. Got a CT scan and stitches in my chin, followed up by surgery yesterday to reset my jaw. Thankfully, I'm only wired shut at night, as the doc wants me moving my jaw during the day in hopes of working the jaw joint back into place.

Of course, this happened during Tom's busiest work week of the year. So my sainted mother - God, how I love that woman! - has come over every day, all day, to help. Tom was out of town the day of the surgery, so she came over and stayed. Her job was to play with and care for Quinn and my job was to rest - and avoid doing anything else stupid!

I seriously could not have made it through this week without her. Thank you, Mom!!!! I love you!

A little man of letters

Giving Quinn a bath a few nights ago, Tom pulled out the foam letters and numbers Grandma Marj gave him for Christmas. Much to Tom's astonishment, the child who just scored a full year behind on his speech assessment started picking up letters, saying what they were and sticking them to the wall. He got through maybe 10 letters and 3-4 numbers before he got bored and went on to something else.

Neither of us has tried to teach him his ABCs, thinking he's not nearly ready for that. I guess all those ABC books are sinking in!

Speaking of speech

Quinn has exactly six months left until he turns 3 and ages out of his state developmental services, so upon the retirement of his first speech therapist we started right up with a new one.

Wow!

We talked about our goals for Quinn: to get his drooling -- which gets going when he's concentrating on something -- under control, to increase his ability to string words together and to encourage him to follow directions.

Her ideas were really surprising. After an initial assessment, Maureen said she thinks Quinn's speech delays and drooling may be physical. She spotted two possible problems: His drooling, she said, may be caused by a lack of muscle tone in his mouth stemming from a lack of sucking, babbling and mouth movement in his first months. Second, she said the fact that he isn't stringing words together may be due to a lack of muscle tone in his diaphram and other muscles in his stomach. Evidence of that, she said, is that Quinn rarely sits on his own. Playing, he usually squats, stands of lays on his stomach. Both, of course, stem from his time in the orphanage.

As for following directions, she said it's not that he doesn't understand us, but that he's a "free-range chicken" who is so busy checking out every little thing around him that he simply isn't listening - in fact, he doesn't even hear us. She suggested I get down to his level and say,
"Quinn, listen to MaMa" and point to my ear. I tried it and lo and behold, it works!

The whole session was very, very interesting. Of course I can't help but think that had I met Maureen six months ago, maybe Quinn would be chatting away by now. But enough of that. I feel so good about this therapist and I'm really excited to work with her!

Toddler at sea

We went on a cruise to the Mexican Rivera to celebrate Tom's parents 50th anniversary. It was actually their 51st anniversary since we were in China on the actual 50th, but no one was counting.

Quinn had a fantastic time. He loved the looooooong halls and would "unnnn" down one after another. He may be the first person ever to lose weight on a cruise.



In between "unnnns" and meals, Quinn got to know his California grandparents, Tom's mom and dad. It was great for all of them to have a nice, long block of time together.




The highlight of the trip was Quinn's discovery of classical music. We walked by a lounge after dinner the first night and I noticed he was really interested in the string quartet playing. So we grabbed an empty seat in the back of the room. The music stopped and Quinn hollered, "More? More?" After that, we went to hear the "moo-azoo" every afternoon and every night. One night they played late, so i took Quinn down in his jammies. The musicians loved him, and said he was the first groupie they ever had. Valentina, the cellist, let Quinn play with her cello on breaks, teaching him to bow and pluck the strings.


A good time was had by all, and we all really enjoyed the time together.

Isn't this supposed to be a treasured memory?

Quinn has gone from bald to shaggy, so we trucked him down to see George, who does our hair, and who said that, sure, he can do kids' hair.

Well.



Quinn started crying the minute the water bottle came out.

Eventually he got so hysterical that poor George gave up after doing half of Quinn's head. I'm not sure which of them was more upset.

We took Quinn out for his favorite grilled cheese sandwich after the dreaded event, and within about 30 seconds he was beaming like it was Christmas morning.



Hopefully next time will go better...