dribble scarves i must sew
Suddenly I have a four year old,
And it is easy to wonder where the time has gone,
But then I look back over our journey thus far,
And it feels more like a lifetime of achievements,
Rather than a mere four years.
And while birthdays are special,
The older he gets,
The more excitement they hold,
They will always be slightly tinged,
With the darkness of at four I thought he’d be able to……
And the cold fact that there is always so much more,
Waiting in my peripheral,
To distract me,
To pull my focus,
And hijack my ability to be content in a moment.
With his drooling becoming an increasing problem,
We seek to retrial medications,
Quarter tablet twice daily,
In a hopeful plea to reduce saliva production,
And while I debate it’s ranking in my worry tally,
I find it grapples me,
Possibly more than warranted,
With its intrusiveness,
And loud statement of disability,
I feel desperate to address it.
And loath it for being yet another thing,
While speech is improving in leaps and bounds,
As words form softly,
If somewhat slurred by increase fluid in his mouth,
As Prompt therapy and Feldenkrais method continue to work together,
To improve his voice production,
We see a real need to activate the proprioceptors in his mouth,
By working within his mouth,
And with his tongue,
For currently the sensory receptors which receive stimuli from the body,
Have been waylaid,
And need a directional shove.
This could be said for signals to his entire body,
Not only the mouth.
Miraculously within days the medication shows impressive results,
And we hear Isaac more clearly,
Without the spit bubbles impeding his words.
And it’s hard not to be ecstatic,
For it’s the answers,
The quick fix to at least one thing,
In a long line of challenges.
Yet history should have had me warned,
For quick-fixes always have a catch,
And within two months I would learn yet again,
The detrimental side effects of drugs,
In a tiny little framed boy.
Drying up the body of excess fluid,
Stopping urination for up to twenty-four hours at a time,
To the point where the word depressed is mentioned,
And eventually drooling making it’s vengeful return.
Its use is ceased.
Knowing full well,
It would not be trialled again.
Despite how many dribble scarves I must sew,
Each and every day.
As it may seem,
Always take the long road.
Which might have just become our life’s slogan.