>The annual IEP (in Amigo’s words, the I Eat Pizza) went reasonably well. Amigo at 16 has become much more self-confident in these meetings, and he handled quite a bit of it himself.
We went out for supper, decompressed, came home. Amigo did his homework, took his evening meds (for acne and for anxiety/tics), and went to bed. Almost exactly an hour later, he threw up.
We are the type of parents who analyze, worry, and then analyze and worry some more on the way to our decisions.
Analysis: his IEP caused him stress and anxiety.
Worry: Maybe his stomach wasn’t fully healed from its recent illness.
Analysis: The acne medicine upsets his stomach. He tossed his cookies about an hour after he took it.
Worry: Maybe we should call the doctor and ask for a change in meds.
Analysis: Being sick scares him. His Asperger’s style logic doesn’t let him calm down and heal.
Worry: This adds more anxiety, which upsets his stomach more. Again.
Analysis: He was exhausted and lacked appetite already on Sunday.
Worry: Was this a sign? And we missed it?
Keep him home for a day, let him rest, feed him bland foods, monitor (and analyze and worry) throughout the day. If he’s up to it, we’ll shop for a low-dose over-the-counter antacid. We’ll re-introduce the meds slowly, on a full stomach, well before bedtime, after consulting the doctor.
Upon further analysis, his illness continued for days, weeks, and eventually months. The local pediatrician referred us to the Big Children’s Hospital for a specialist and heavy duty testing. Amigo went through a week of gathering lab samples, only to have to do the tests over because the local hospital’s lab didn’t like the Big Hospital’s containers. These tests (you guessed it) showed nothing new, eliminated nothing from the list of possibilities.
Next up was a three day stint.
Day 1: prepare for tests.
Day 2: Travel to Big Children’s Hospital for Day Surgery, as the tests take place under general anesthesia.
Day 3: rest, resume some normal eating, rehydrate. Maybe, just maybe, start doing homework.