My little man woke up this morning completely unable to bear weight on his leg or to bend it at the hip. It's like a remake of 2009 when he had transient synovitis. Which is why I'm trying not to freak out too much as we wait around for his appointment to see the doctor.
In the meantime, we'll kill time by watching train videos on youtube. And laugh at the absurdities that autism brings into our lives, even when you find yourself immobile.
For instance after resting in my bed this morning he decided he wanted to watch a movie downstairs. I struggled to pick him out of the bed as he can't bend his right leg without crying out in pain. So I'm carrying him under his armpits with his body just dangling down. His toes are almost touching the floor. I'm already panting and huffing and I haven't even got out of my bedroom.
Then his arm shoots out and grabs the wall and he won't let me progress any further towards the stairs. I look at his face, grimaced in pain, and ask him what is wrong. He points to the bathroom and shouts, "LIGHTS!". I had to backtrack so he could shut the light off in the bathroom and close the bathroom door.
I again try to go towards the stairs and he again starts crying, not just from pain but from agitation. I do the guessing game and realize we have to go turn off his humidifier and plasma ball in his room before he'll allow the descent.
Finally everything is in it's place and I carry him down the stairs.
He asks for Peter Pan and I prop him up all comfortable on the couch and put in his movie.
I go off to start getting things ready so I could get Corbin off to school when I heard crying in the livingroom.
Brian had tried to hobble to the television because he just NEEDS to watch the same scene over and over again. He didn't make it far and was crumpled up on the floor next to the couch.
I scooped him up and carried him back to the couch.
Repeat several times, until he figured out he could still efficiently army crawl. And until I figured out it made way more sense to just put the beanbag and a few blankets right next to the television so he could happily rewind the parts he needed to watch over and over again.
And that folks is when you know that you are obsessive-compulsive. When no amount of physical pain is more painful than not being able to stick to your routines.
Here's to the hope that this is what it was last time and it heals up as quickly as it did last time. Because carrying around a child his size to placate his every obsession is going to be a challenge.
