I've been reading over Bradley's discharge papers
from his original hospitalization, shortly after birth.
There are so many things in those records that I understand way better now.
They had most of his problems figured out by the time he was 8 weeks old.
Most of his diagnosis' are still diagnosis' he has.
And it's a memory time line of his stay there.
Every date, every picc line, every intubation, every blood transfusion, every infection, every test.
CT scan, x-ray, swallow study.
When we were released the doctor told me Bradley was special.
At the time, I only knew that special meant retarded.
I was so beside myself that I had a retarded child.
Sorry if my use of the R word, offends you.
It is, what it is.
It is a real diagnosis.
Though his neurologist has not given him the diagnosis of mentally retarded yet,
I'm sure it's in our future.
I know he has mental retardation. That's why he has the issues he does.
And I don't think it is a damage thing, because if it was they would see it in MRIs.
I think his brain doesn't work like it should.
Perhaps a chemical that is lacking. That isn't released. I don't know. They don't know.
Just like how his thyroid doesn't work; his brain doesn't work.
And I knew it when I first saw him. That he was different from my first three.
And I worried so much what people would think of him.
And that is another reason why I write this blog.
So that you will be on his side and love him as much as I do.
That you will get him, like I get him.
And when he yells out in public,
you will understand that he doesn't control his body like the rest of us.
And when he has a misshapen head and shakes it back and forth, you'll understand.
And that he won't make you uncomfortable to be around.
That you will feel like he is your brother too.
Because he is.
The RT came to show me how to use Bradley's vest machine today.
He said he had gotten his degree from U of U.
I told him we had just been up there, in September, seeing a geneticist.
I told him Bradley was undiagnosed and we were still trying to figure out what he had.
I could tell this was too much info for the RT by the look on his face.
I told him he was my 4th child and that none of my other's had had these problems.
And all of the suddenly, Jacob interrupted and said
"Yeah, and you get what you get and you don't throw a fit!"
And the RT said he didn't hear what Jacob had said and asked Jake to repeat himself.
Jacob said, louder this time,
"YOU GET WHAT YOU GET, AND YOU DON'T THROW A FIT!!"
And the RT and I started laughing.
I'm so glad Jacob understands that now.
It will make his life easier, for sure.
