(The moving truck arrived so there are currently giant men and 497 boxes all over my house. Jack is in a corner screaming, and the dog peed on the floor. Such is life, eh?
Needless to say, I’m reposting again. I PROMISE to write new stuff next week–you know, when I can feel my legs again (who knew moving would work so many muscles?!). Until then…)
This week has been super stressful, for multiple reasons. There have been appointments, life-altering conversations, and…it’s my first week of summer semester (so I had to teach and act professional after getting sorta icky news). Also, I was on jury duty….just because I didn’t have enough else to do.
Wednesday, Jack got his CPT vest. The nurse came to our house and set it all up. She was absolutely fantastic with Jack. She had him help her open the boxes and showed him all the things inside. She fit the vest and G-tube cover. We spoke at great length about starting off slow and getting him used to it, rather than just hitting the ground hard and fast.
After an hour (no joke) of training on how to turn the thing on, she was set to try it out on Jack. I was anxious–I was more than positive that the outcome was going to be horrid. Jack is not a huge fan of movement or repetition or motion.
She turned it on. I watched as Jack was shaken—I’m telling you, it’s not just a gentle shake either. But he totally tolerated it.
Remember when you were a kid and you would talk in to a fan to hear your voice sound funny? That’s what Jack sounded like when he tried to talk during the treatment! It was hysterical…He was laughing so hard! I was laughing until I cried. The nurse thought we were both crazy.
About halfway through the treatment, he decided it wasn’t cool anymore. He wanted to be done. I explained that he really needed to do this to help his lungs.
He looked sideways at me and said, “I all shaky quaky, Momma.” I agreed.
He looked again and said, “I love my Mayuc Wobot Nake.”
You said what? Magic Robot Snake?!?!
So, the CPT machine is his Magic Robot Snake. He adores it. He pets it. I’m not fighting it!
But the best thing is…he’s tolerant. In a week where the kid has had nothing but trauma, he found the joy in an imaginary robot snake. As parents, we often get so caught up in the bad–we forget that the kids are still imaginative and playful. We forget that they don’t dwell on the fear of the future–they happily live for the moment.
We all should be so lucky.
It’s the little things like a Magic Robot Snake that gently reminds me to find joy in the little things.