Another move, another set of letters

When P. took her most recent job (as a groom at a local stable), the position had the potential to come with housing. Today, she (and D.) moved some of her stuff over and she'll sleep there tonight. This makes another child out and on their own. We haven't sorted out what will happen to her room once she has things moved out, though there are younger who have definite opinions on that matter.

Onto the letter portion of the title. I didn't blog about it, but since the 26th, R. has been struggling again, this time with behaviors that are out of the ordinary even for her. Like really out there. So, grasping at straws, I googled PANS/PANDAS. I have been around long enough to know this can be a thing and we did spend the past month passing various illnesses around. Well, when I looked at the symptoms, she ticked every single box and the behaviors we have been seeing could all be explained by this. 

So yesterday, after my little session with Google, I immediately called our PCP.  Of course, the phone operator nicely informed me the first available appointment was at the end of January. I nicely said that wasn't going to work. Well, longish story short, a nurse got us in today with a doctor we hadn't seen before. 

Now, unless you are a special needs parent, that last part probably didn't phase you. If you are, then your stomach probably churned a bit. Unless you've lived it, you have no idea how incredibly challenging and frustrating it can be to break in a new doctor. There are only so many times one can take not being believed and having to navigate the subtle undertones of any issues being the fault of the parent. It's a thing and it is one of the worst parts of parenting challenging children. But I needed this appointment, so I took it.

I was not looking forward to it though. Not only for the reasons I've just mentioned, but also because R.'s medical history is long and complicated. The whole process is tedious. So imagine how pleasantly surprised I was to be met with belief and understanding. And while the doctor clearly didn't believe my diagnosis, she was willing to play along and prescribe a round of antibiotics. That's truly all I wanted. 

I don't think I can fully convey how much I am counting on being right in this instance; that the medicine will knock out whatever infection R. currently has in her brain and life can go back to normal. I also cannot even begin to wrap my head around what life will look like if this is our new normal, both for her sake and ours.