I spent the night at the hospital with Dustin since I have to do his IEP today and I am supposed to get my hair cut and colored (which may not happen). It was freakin' miserable. He could not decide whether he wanted to pee, chat, watch TV, or complain loudly of his chest and belly. . .
My poor boy is miserable and I am wickedly tired!
Nothing is moving down there and just in the last few hours they have pulled 300cc out of his belly so nothing is heading that way either. I have a feeling that we may be headed to surgery today, but then again, I thought that yesterday. . .
He did get his chlozapine and even his morning meds. Yay! I am particularly tired of telling every new nurse that Dustin is moderately mentally handicapped and that he will not "chat" with you like a typical 14 year old! read the freakin' chart already. (when my dog goes to the vet there is a huge red tag on the front of his chart that says she may bite if you try to give a shot. They really should put a big red tag on Dustin's chart that says, "He cannot tell you his pain on a scale of 1-10, he cannot tell you what school he goes to, and he will not chat about friends, his favorite subject, or sports. He may however tell you about Dora and Barney if you ask" Boy, a red sticker to identify MoMH status, that would piss off some of the militant special needs moms out there! hehehehe) I may sound like I am complaining here, but all in all our experience with the hospital and the nurses has been very positive. I suppose I can always find something to complain about . . .
Seventeen years, seventeen stories.
10 hours ago