Instinct: part 2

So my journey to getting little man back to himself continues. Oh the path the Lord has laid out for us! Part 1 is here by the way.

Now we were sent from casualty to a consultant surgeon. So this guy looks at little man and right there asks me the question I’ve been asking all doctors who have looked at little man and I tell him as much. He says something that fit into the puzzle so perfectly. Basically he was reluctant to do this surgery because another problem had not been addressed properly therefore even if he did the surgery the issue that brought us to his office would recur. I almost passed out in joy but I was having such horrid cramps I ran to the loo instead. This guy turned out to be a close relative to one of our close friends (Gosh this our God has a sense of humor in his purpose!) He suggested we go see another doctor about the unresolved issue then call him when that’s sorted. Gosh I respected and fell in love with this guy right there, He has me as a loyal client now. I think I have found a doc worth me and my children’s time and money.

Now we had to find a doctor I could trust with this issue which clearly the guys who did the first surgery either did not see or kept quiet about it on purpose. I’m inclined towards the latter because even hubby knows how I questioned that unusualness in little man. So another doc was necessary but who? How? And how would I know I could trust him?

After sitting down with little man’s grandparents and taking in their insight, we decided to finally call a certain doctor who got their deep respect in the late 80’s. We found him and guess what, he didn’t even get off his seat when he looked at little man (who had decided he is not getting off or letting go of the push car… so he was examined on the push car). He just said, ‘Oh I can see how swollen he is, how soon can you arrange for us to get those things out?’ That’s less than a minute into the consultation. He then says he can ask for an x-ray but that’s more for my benefit than his. Then he went on and explained why an X-ray or CT scan (which we had been sent for then no one accepted to do it because unknown to me then, A CT scan has 9 times more radiation than a chest X-ray, so can you begin to see why I don’t trust these guys in white coats?) was not necessary.

So when we start talking about the necessary action, within minutes he calls the first pediatric surgeon and everything is set. I later find out that these 2 have been walking together for a loooooong time. Note, the first pediatric surgeon did not lead us to the second, my parents did. So really humour and purpose, only one way can they go so well hand in hand. Right there I decided this is the team I am comfortable entrusting my little man to. Now to work the complex issue of insurance verses cash between now and the time little man gets his issues sorted one and for all we hope.

Instinct is a big deal, you don’t have to be a doctor or teacher or any professional to know something is not right with your child. If you are unsettled about it, don’t stop looking, harassing, asking… all that. Just don’t stop until your stomach feels settled about it.

If you haven't read part 1, read it here.

Instinct: part 1

Instinct is a big deal. Value of instinct for a mother cannot be emphasized enough! Infact, the issue of over emphasis doesn’t exist. See, I feel like I have been going round in circles with little man and his constant coughs and alleged colds. We have been in doctors clinics and hospitals so much without getting any real answer or solutions that I started avoiding hospitals and doctors all together. I knew they would give me some bull about what’s going on which was not the truth, but if put to task about what I thought the problem was… I wouldn’t know. So I just started avoiding doctors and hospitals unless it started looking like a do or die. Which it did.

One night little man was just feisty and very irritable. He talks but not so clearly yet. I would ask him if he’s hurting and he would just fold into himself and shrug his shoulders. Very unlike him, he will shout ‘mummy hurting!’ at the slightest hint of discomfort. I thought about taking him to our nearest hospital but shoved that thought away at the thought of hearing the same nonsense. A few hour later I put him to bed and heard him fall asleep. Then the screams started! Oh the boy was in A LOT of pain. So much pain that he refused to cuddle into mummy and nurse (yes I still do every so often). He couldn’t sit, or lie down or stand, t some point he was running in tight circles flaying his hands about in pain. Only God knows how helpless I felt, it was all I could do not to cry with him. His poor brother also started crying inconsolably, possibly because he was scared. Oh thank God for a clear

Any parent has felt like this big cat when it
comes to their child at one point or another

headed daddy, he came in, took in the situation and we went to the hospital we go to when we must – because worst case scenario is that if we smell nonsense we can call in people we know won’t stand by and watch us being lied to (when I don’t trust the hospitals around… I have a grading system that guides my decision on when to take baby where for what, because most of these places are strong in one thing, or two so… yeah, I really do not trust 95% of the doctors anywhere! The 5% is reserved to those who are our friends from before they were doctors to the one in 100 who don’t have time or patience for bull and they are usually closer to retirement than the others).

So we find this really cool and direct young doc who says it like it is, he basically tells us little man’s issue is easily sorted with a simple surgery. But without this surgery the problem will just get worse and cause even more serious problems. Of course a girl has done her reading and since she is still interested in bio sciences, her reading and the doctors’ prognosis made sense. So the guy pushes us to a pediatric surgeon. At this point let me just share that this doc at the pediatric casualty turned out to be related to a friend I had in primary school, somewhere in the midst of tea plantations. So he refers us to a pediatric surgeon.

As a principle I don’t do long blog posts so here is part 2.

Whats not happening?

I’ve been having very interesting conversations with women, mothers, wives, from very different backgrounds in the last 72 hours and I cannot help but feel theres an ugly vein throbbing under all the joys of parenting. This throbbing vein is felt with the men in these womens lives, in our lives, who seem to be doing the dumbest things! Things that make very little sense. Things that make you believe that indeed evil is real!

Conversation 1.

This lady is sitting outside at an open field in my neighbourhood and her face is just misery. It spells misery from the creases on her forehead to the inward downturn of her lips set ablaze by fiery eyes that are not quite seeing whats ahead but seem to be looking for something to torch internally. So I ask her if she’s okay. In polite-nese she says she’s fine. I tell her she looks like she’s just been damned to hell with no hope for redemption. She says she feels like it. Apparently her husband has sent their children to his village saying that he cannot afford to keep them in Nairobi and its cheaper if his mother takes care of them. Apparently this man has been making bad business decisions f or the last two years which  has seen them lose their little land, close down a shop they had and now their home is mortgaged to the bank. This lady feels like he is purposely sabotaging their lives despite advise towards saner ways of making money. So she sits at the open field too afraid that if she goes home she might kill him in his sleep.

Conversation 2

Theres a man I know whose children would prefer not to speak to or even engage with. Not for lack of love but rather for self protection. One of the children recently told me that she would rather send money to his account rather than visit him or talk to him because each conversation ends with her doubting her selfworth after she has been reminded that girls like her don’t amount to much in this world. As much as she says she is lonely and would like to meet a good man, she’s too afraid of being continuously reminded of her miserable place in society so she’d rather learn to embrace her singlehood rather than take a risk with a man who might turn out like her father. To her men are just good for making babies while having fun at it.

Conversation 3

Theres a man I know who seems to have gotten married without knowing why, and cozy’s up to the title daddy while wondering why the baby just can’t shut up and give him peace… He somehow expects a child barely one year old to understand him man-to-man.

I know there are many wonderful men being the best they can be for their families but there re these poor souls who seem not to know that they literally are the bastions of their home and of their families. Is there a way to rescue these men from themselves, or at the very least from women who want to give their all to support the men they believe in and for those poor children who are being wounded by the mans confusion? 

Its easy to blame alcohol, drugs, peer pressure and all that but I think the bottom line is a man needs to understand his place in society, be proud of it and deliver to his family. Otherwise these same men are the guys who will be shouting how women are bullying them out of jobs and out of the home. If you are a man and you are reading this, how now can you help your fellow men rise to their position in society?

They are grown up! Waaah!!

I enjoy listening to that t-thump t-thump t-thump of my 3 year olds feet as they run along my tiny corridor after his shower. I don’t know why he loves staying naked after his shower. This t-thump t-thump t-thump is accompanied by very mini masculine Bhars, aergh, and gaarghs from his little brother who likes his bath as fast as possible so that he can waddle after his brother.

These are the sounds that warm me up after a day of tough self-evaluation, ego grinding phone calls, and other stuff that keep me busy as I try re-organize my life for a better tomorrow. They are happy noises, the sweetest most heartwarming noises any human being can hope to bear witness to.

As they make these sweet noises of life, I can help but be in awe of how far they have both come from, I saw little man when he was a 6 week dot in my belly, the ears haven’t changed much beyond the fact that they are bigger now. I saw baby baby playing hide and seek with the ultra sound, and just a year ago he was so tiny we could hold him in one hand. Last night his daddy held him up over his head and noticed that he doesn’t ‘plank’ naturally anymore. His legs now hang low, he’s too long to stay plank straight when held up like that.

They are growing. Fast and I miss the days when little man had just discovered his legs are part of him and he couldn’t stop playing with his legs. I already miss the times when I could easily carry baby baby in a front carry and go about my business. He is too heavy for that now so back-carry it is. Now they play with each other, roughing and loving it and mummy already feels like an outsider when they are in their zone. Mummy isn’t carrying anyone or asking anyone to treat ‘baby gently’. They are growing and my role is to feed them, and change diapers, and play referee. No longer showing them that they have hands, or that the sun is up and the moon is gone. Little man is already telling baby baby what he learns every day so the teaching cap is on to him… somewhat.

Gosh, look at that, if this is how I’m feeling now, how will I feel when they get older? When they are going off to high-school or college!? I don’t want to know. What I do know is that we need to afford to give them the best in life so that they can go off and do great things as mummy sobs over their baby socks. On that note, a mummy needs to get back into her job hunting manenos. (I know, a different tone from my last post but... hey, life.)