Years ago when I worked at a software company, we used to negotiate software license agreements. As part of that process we were responsible, sort of, for making sure that the deals were in line with revenue recognition rules. As anyone who regularly “works” with these accounting rules, they are subject to interpretation by inside accountants and outside auditors. One of my favorite people at the company used to joke about the methodology for calculating revenue recognition. He used to say you do this and you do that and then you add the live chicken. Sounds ridiculous which is the point. It always seemed like there were rules that you had to go by, and then some sort of wacky twist that no one could explain. Took Bryan to the psychiatrist on Wed. She is really smart and we get along great. She also prescribes my meds. We not only talk about Bryan, his meds, my meds, we talk about shoes, handbags, blah blah blah. She is newer to Fl than I am and she likes to pick my brain on local stuff too. Sometimes I’m such a goody two shoes, like why do I give a crap if she likes me or not, what’s that about? I’m sure my sister could write 10 blogs about that, yikes.
Ok, so we started talking again about Bryan’s sleep issues, anxiety, impulse control, the usual. Starting tonight we are going to wean him off of risperdal and start getting him on zyprexa. Kind of like the live chicken, who the hell knows. Earl (that is what I call Erwin for those of you who don’t know) and I always agree on important stuff like meds. We could argue about who fed the dog for an hour, but we have never shared even an unkind word when it comes to the real stuff. Go figure. Ok, back to the meds. The irony is that in order to change his meds, you really have to brace yourself. You just don’t know what you’re going to get. If you are expecting the ultimate breakthrough you are just an amateur. There is no magic anything here. But, a little calmer, a little more sleep, a little less pinching, I’ll take that any day of the week. However, it’s all a risk analysis here. Are we going to go to someplace even worse than we are now? Will he get nauseated, dizzy, etc. What about side effects. These meds are not aspirin, you know. I used to really beat myself up about not doing more of the homeopathic meds, Earl and I would talk about it but we just haven’t found the right resource I guess. One of my Autism team members (that’s how I’m going to have to refer to all of the folks in the autism world that help us) rightfully pointed out, hey those are meds too, and they are not regulated and research isn’t done for those. Whew, that really made me feel better. Ok, I’m not the worst parent on the planet if my kid doesn’t get some sort of gaba, probiotic mix.
So, back to the crapshoot. Time to take a little risk. I’m trying to prepare myself. We don’t want to hurt him, we want to help him but the meds are so tricky. The other parents I talk to feel the same way, we all try things and see. No one really knows what will work, even my Columbia grad psychiatrist. It’s that old saying, throw enough shit against the wall and something will stick. Boy, nice parenting, huh? This morning when I got out of the shower Bryan had already crawled into my bed. I went over to kiss him about 20 times and told him, “hey Bry, time to go in the shower.” He said “In a little while”. I love that, so typical. Time for the live chicken.