One stupid move after another

Sometimes, we really are our own worst enemy. I took an overnight biz trip to Phoenix last week, and my stomach started feeling weird by mid-afternoon. I picked at a small salad for dinner, watched some TV, started shivering and went to bed. When it was pretty clear I was going to throw up, I got up, went into the bathroom, and, bam, passed out cold. I woke up in a puddle of blood, and THEN threw up.

A smart girl would have called 911. Or at least called her husband. Not me. I did think about calling 911, but I decided there was no way I could get to my cell phone WAY across the big room - and even if I could, there was no way I could then get back to the door, which I had bolted, to let in the paramedics. So, bleeding, hurting and with a potential head injury, what did I do? Crawled to bed with a pile of towels to sop up the blood coming from my mouth, ear, nose and a huge gash on my chin, and WENT TO SLEEP. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I bled the night away, then got up, took a shower and decided it really was time to get some help. Did I go to the closest emergency room? Of course not. I wasn't sure what my insurance would cover and I didn't want to be stuck in Phoenix for another night away from Tom and Quinn, so I DROVE TWO HOURS home and called my regular doctor - who saw me and sent me straight to the emergency room. Again, stupid, stupid, stupid.

The diagnosis? I fractured my jaw in one place and broke it badly in another - and the bone from that break ruptured my ear canal. Got a CT scan and stitches in my chin, followed up by surgery yesterday to reset my jaw. Thankfully, I'm only wired shut at night, as the doc wants me moving my jaw during the day in hopes of working the jaw joint back into place.

Of course, this happened during Tom's busiest work week of the year. So my sainted mother - God, how I love that woman! - has come over every day, all day, to help. Tom was out of town the day of the surgery, so she came over and stayed. Her job was to play with and care for Quinn and my job was to rest - and avoid doing anything else stupid!

I seriously could not have made it through this week without her. Thank you, Mom!!!! I love you!

A little man of letters

Giving Quinn a bath a few nights ago, Tom pulled out the foam letters and numbers Grandma Marj gave him for Christmas. Much to Tom's astonishment, the child who just scored a full year behind on his speech assessment started picking up letters, saying what they were and sticking them to the wall. He got through maybe 10 letters and 3-4 numbers before he got bored and went on to something else.

Neither of us has tried to teach him his ABCs, thinking he's not nearly ready for that. I guess all those ABC books are sinking in!

Toddler at sea

We went on a cruise to the Mexican Rivera to celebrate Tom's parents 50th anniversary. It was actually their 51st anniversary since we were in China on the actual 50th, but no one was counting.

Quinn had a fantastic time. He loved the looooooong halls and would "unnnn" down one after another. He may be the first person ever to lose weight on a cruise.



In between "unnnns" and meals, Quinn got to know his California grandparents, Tom's mom and dad. It was great for all of them to have a nice, long block of time together.




The highlight of the trip was Quinn's discovery of classical music. We walked by a lounge after dinner the first night and I noticed he was really interested in the string quartet playing. So we grabbed an empty seat in the back of the room. The music stopped and Quinn hollered, "More? More?" After that, we went to hear the "moo-azoo" every afternoon and every night. One night they played late, so i took Quinn down in his jammies. The musicians loved him, and said he was the first groupie they ever had. Valentina, the cellist, let Quinn play with her cello on breaks, teaching him to bow and pluck the strings.


A good time was had by all, and we all really enjoyed the time together.

Isn't this supposed to be a treasured memory?

Quinn has gone from bald to shaggy, so we trucked him down to see George, who does our hair, and who said that, sure, he can do kids' hair.

Well.



Quinn started crying the minute the water bottle came out.

Eventually he got so hysterical that poor George gave up after doing half of Quinn's head. I'm not sure which of them was more upset.

We took Quinn out for his favorite grilled cheese sandwich after the dreaded event, and within about 30 seconds he was beaming like it was Christmas morning.



Hopefully next time will go better...

Surprising medical news: A doctor who DOESN'T want to cut

Quinn's SN is brachial plexus injury, a birth injury to the nerves in his neck that affects the use of his right arm. After much research, we chose Dr. Peter Waters at Boston Children's Hospital to do his surgery and Quinn, Tom and I made a trip to meet Quinn's new doc.

Here we go:


Here's Quinn and me on the plane, checking our e-mails:


Quinn had an MRI on Wednesday. We chose to do it in Boston because an ultrasound he had in grown-up hospital in Tucson was a thoroughly traumatic experience I didn't care to repeat. It was a good decision: The staff was SO nice to him, giving him a kid-themed gown to wear, explaining everything, taking it very slowly and letting him play with things that interested him along the way, like the stethoscope:


It was a little terrifying seeing him unconscious and rolled into the giant white machine but he did just fine. He was SO groggy afterwards, poor little guy.

They told us he wouldn't want to eat dinner, so of course he ate a HUGE plate of pasta within an hour.

Thursday morning we met with Susan, Dr. Waters' physical therapist. Then we met with Dr. Waters. To our surprise, his recommendation was to WAIT to have the surgery. He said Quinn's MRI showed a totally normal shoulder, very unusual for his injury, and that he is still improving on his own. He wants us to step up the physical therapy and have our PT consult with his PT. When they decide he has progressed as much as possible on his own, THEN it's time for surgery. Wow, not what we expected - and so different than another doctor who said we were already late to the surgery party and we absolutely had to do it ASAP.

The hospital is amazing, with stuff for kids to look at and play with everywhere.



Volunteers hand out stickers in the hallways, and we saw a doctor and nurse dressed like clowns. There are several playgrounds around, including this one, where we spent the better part of two days:



Outside the hospital one day, Tom was taking a picture of Quinn and me and a woman walked up and asked if she could take a picture of all of us. She snapped four and walked off. They were ALL really good - and I take terrible pictures. We loved this one so much we put it on our Christmas cards:



Since we had flown all the way to Boston, we took a little time to enjoy the city. Boston Common was gorgeous, and Quinn loved stomping in the fallen leaves - something he doesn't get to do much of in the desert!





We walked and took the subway all over the place. One of our favorite stops was Boston's small but friendly little Chinatown. We found an awesome dumpling restaurant and had a great lunch.





After that we took Quinn to Harvard to get a taste of the Ivy League. We bought him some books at the Harvard bookstore and walked so much that he fell asleep before dinner. Luckily, our table had bench seating so he just laid down and snoozed the meal away. I believe this is the first and only time since he started eating that this kid has missed a meal!

Just some more random cuteness

Before I move on to new pictures, I have to post a few leftovers.

The day after his birthday, Quinn was still so pooped he fell asleep on the hard floor while playing with the leftover streamers.

A fun toy, a glass of cold milk and a nice warm day. You'd be smiling, too!


Quinn's first meal with his super-cool, three-section, big-boy plate. The days of chopping up everything and mixing it all together officially ended this day.

A boy and his BaBa

One of my favorite recent photos of the boys: