As parents, it is often difficult to know when our kids are trying to pull a fast one. I imagine we all at some point during our school lives tried it on because we didn’t want to go to school, so it is only fair that our children do the same, and have the same negative thoughts about us as we did about our parents!!
M doesn’t like going to school, he is quite vocal on this subject, but he understands it is something he must do. It therefore has to be something really bad going on for him to try out an excuse not to attend, and then he will usually open up about what the problem is and we can work out a way of handling it.
D on the other hand is writing the book for his generation about it excuses. The silly thing is that he actually enjoys learning, and absorbs information like a sponge in a puddle. He does however want to be doing so many other things, that school kind of gets in his way! Every morning it seems he has a reason prepared, and we go through the procedure of picking apart his objections as he dresses and packs his bag and walks up the road. School must be difficult for a child that puts on a different persona to the one he wears the rest of the time. Having to be something that is mentally and emotionally painful must be horrible for him, and I can not begin to imagine the strain it puts on him. He does however go to school and when asked at the end of the day, he usually says he has had a good day.
It is because of D’s creative imagination – I think that’s the polite way to put it, that I have had a few bad Mummy moments, where I have totally disregarded his ailments because of the “here we go again” switch is flicked in my brain, but he has actually been unwell. You can’t get it right every time.
Sunday night the boys were in bed, and Hubby and I were settling down to watch some telly. Then D appears, tears streaming down his face. His arm hurt. So after a quick cuddle, he was put back to bed, after all on a Sunday night the chances of him working on his Monday excuse were quite high. A short while later, he reappears, still in tears, not wanting to move his hand. He points to part of his wrist and says that was were the pain was. I gave him some paracetamol, and put a tubigrip on it, and back to bed for him.
In the morning, he just didn’t want to move his wrist. When I tried to touch it to see what was wrong, there were instant tears. I decided it needed to be looked at, D has hypermobility, and so has dodgy joints, I thought it was better to be safe than sorry.
After I had got M off to school, D and I headed into the city to the hospital. It was a horrific journey with traffic backed up as if we were in the middle of rush hour. We did however get there and after a few laps of the car park, found a parking space.
We were seen really quickly. The nurse that did triage was a little off with him because he was unable to explain how it had happened, but once I explained he was aspergers, she mellowed, and excepted his lack of communication and allowed me to talk the events of the previous evening. I said I believed he had laid on his arm and twisted his wrist but because of his hypermobility thought it should be looked at. She got the doctor, who came and talked to D in a lovely manner. She asked him to point to everywhere it hurt and to do various movements. She said she thought it looked like a sprain, but that with his joint problems I was right to take him in. She thought that putting a splint on it would be a good idea to immobilize the joint while it healed. By this time, D was getting panicky and anxious but it wasn’t much longer before we were able to escape.
D’s main worry was that he wouldn’t be able to play his games controller with the splint on, but was happy when he could all be it a little awkwardly.
This morning he had a new worry, and that was he was going to get into trouble because his writing wouldn’t be neat enough with wearing the splint. I do actually believe that having something to worry about fuels him. He tried to hold a pencil and could write, but, yes, it wasn’t as perfect as he would want. It was at this point that he decided his wrist was better, and he didn’t need to wear the splint. I reminded him that the doctor had said to wear it for 3 days and it was to protect his wrist while the muscles mended. The worry and panic that followed was only paused when I said I would come and speak with his teacher to explain what was going on. His teacher was fine with no gym this week. She suggested indoor breaks – but the way the weather is I imagine the whole school will be having those this week. When I said he was worried about the state of his writing, she said he didn’t need to be, but she understood for him it was a big deal so she would try to reassure him.
D can be a slippery customer when he wants to be, but I think his full on attitude to life means that he gets there, all be it often by a different route to everyone else, and more often that not with a few bumps and bruise along the way.