Friday, June 25, 2010

The Crooked Face, I Love So Much.

There is only happiness, a care free spirit, an innate sense of love received unconditionally. As she commando drags herself across the floor of our home, she has no idea of what is going on, of the worry that her loved ones bare on her behalf. Man, she can grab a good beard and pull!

For all intents and purposes Lucy goes on, day by day - the happy little infant she has always been. And that alone warms mine and my serioso's hearts and makes the events of the past few days seem lesser overwhelming. But I'm pissed off - and I know it probably does me no good. But I am none-the-less.

Lucy had her first physiotherapy session to assess the degree of torticollis and to structure a plan to try and stretch that abnormal muscle to try and get her back on track. It wasn't pretty but she bared up well. It involves gentle manipulation of the neck in an effort to work the sternocleidomastoid muscle, to lengthen it and hopefully make her skull symmetrical once more - or, more precisely, make it symmetrical for the first time.

Excuse my French but fuck me! How could have this have been missed.


It's like, 2 in the morning as I write this. I'm tired and I'm emotional. I have thought of nothing else these past few days.

Anyway. Our homework with Lucy is to spend an hour each day, using some techniques to encourage her to turn her head in the direction that will facilitate the stretch. My serioso brought a colored rattle with little beads inside that will provide some visual stimulation for Lucy and keep her interested in the exercises. Already, she is displaying a fiercely independent streak and doesn't always do what she's supposed to. I think we may have a firecracker on our hands...which is probably a good thing huh?

To watch her play on the floor, to crawl (aka drag!) herself across it, to sit up and hold herself up in the sitting position using her hands to stabilize her little body the degree of asymmetry is stark. It's going to take a lot of work to get this right again. 

My serioso and I have talked about what to do with regards to the pediatrician. And we've struggled with this. We've swung from being angry and wanting to write a sternly worded letter, to ringing the office and seeking a meeting, to shaking our heads and wondering if we should just let it go. We do have a routine follow up booked for August and I have half a mind to ring the office next week to see if the date can be brought forward. Again it seems to be somewhat of a dilemma. We also have an ultrasound booked for Monday next week and we have decided to go ahead with it. I need to rule out any possibility of a lesion. That's the thing that is scaring the shite out of me right now. The weight of expectation is terrible.

We see the physiotherapist again in a little over a week. That is something less daunting but I know it's going to hurt Lucy. I can take a lot of things but the tiny little yelp of my own daughter...well, that is gut wrenching.

To look into the crooked face, I love so much and see pain...


1 comment:

  1. Oh god it's the worse feeling in the world. I know it's minor comparitively-but my son had to have a CAT when he was 9 months old and found he had fractured his skull. To see him so uncomfortable all strapped into the machine and totally broke me. I hate it. I hate it soo much. You're in my thoughts and prayers, as is Lucy.