Musings of a Marfan Mom

October 18, 2009
by marfmom
3 Comments

Pain(ful) Questions

I’m sitting here with a questionnaire 12 sheets thick, completely befuddled. I have a Masters degree…a Masters degree in public health, no less. I took a class on survey methods, love evaluation, used it in my culminating project for school. I really shouldn’t be stumped by a simple questionnaire about me, myself, and I.

But I am.

I would venture to say many—probably most—people with Marfan suffer from chronic pain at some point in time. I’ve had fibromyalgia for 8 years or so now but never felt inclined to do anything about it. Until I was pregnant my flair-ups were few and far between, but the first-trimester pain from fibromyalgia was far worse than my first-trimester nausea. Since then my flair-ups are more frequent and I know that as Menininho gets older I need to be as pain-free as possible to have the ability to keep up with him. One of my biggest fears is that my physical limitations will hinder him (or any future children, if we can be so lucky) in a major way.

And so, for weeks I have tried to find a doctor who would take me on as a patient. At first no department wanted me, and then neurology and the pain clinic fought over who could take my referral. Last week I received a call; the pain clinic won out.

Now I sit here, trying not to over-analyze all the questions on the New Patient Pain Management Questionnaire. How can I quantify my pain on a 1-10 scale? What is my constant level of pain? My worst pain? What’s the right answer? If I mark too high of a number I worry the doctor will try to push narcotics on me. Too low, maybe she will laugh me out of the hospital. How do I explain, in numbers, that the burning pain I feel keeps me from being active, but I soldier through what needs to get done for my son anyway, because what if he didn’t ask to be born to me?

What number represents the baseline level of pain you’d like to achieve through treatment? Well, I’d love to be pain-free, but what’s reasonable to expect?

How many times and ways can they ask me if I’m a drug addict? Because really, if I was, wouldn’t it defeat the purpose for me to confess? Do people honestly say yes?

I hope I find my doctor willing to look past these numbers and instead listen to me try to quantify the qualitative.

October 17, 2009
by marfmom
0 comments

Pumpkin Patch

Hello. My name is Maya, and I have a thing for pumpkin patches.

I suppose “a thing” might be putting it mildly. To me, they are the symbol of fall. They get me in the mood for baking and crafting and cocooning myself in sweatshirts, blankets, and big winter coat until spring. But really, I LOOKED FORWARD TO HAVING A BABY SO I COULD TAKE HIM/HER TO A PUMPKIN PATCH FOR PICTURES.

You can ask Mark. From early on in my pregnancy I would daydream not about baby’s first Christmas or first birthday, but about the first time we’d take him to a pumpkin patch for pictures.

Be honest: are there many cuter things than a little baby in fall clothes with pumpkins?

Exactly.

I carefully chose our outfits for our first family pumpkin patch excursion, so we could use a picture or two for our Christmas card. I even brought an extra outfit for Menininho, to placate Mark. I practically trembled with excitement the entire 45-minute drive. The patch did not disappoint. There were rows of affordable pumpkins of all shapes and color, Indian corn, food booths, hayrides, corn mazes, and a live band.

The best part? Menininho’s obvious love of the pumpkin patch:

October 15, 2009
by marfmom
1 Comment

Superbaby

Welcome to today’s edition of “What inappropriate object did Menininho try to eat now?”! I was desperate for a shower this morning, so I did what I do most days, and scooped up Menininho and some of his toys and set them all by the bathroom door. He’s content to more or less sit there and I can watch him from the shower. Until today. See, last night Menininho discovered the springy doorstops that are attached to the walls in our bedroom. They make a fun noise when you hit them. And so, while I showered, he played with one, strumming it. Then, silence. I poked my head out of the shower because any mom knows that a suddenly silent child is NOT a good thing. And sure enough, what did I see?  Menininho had ripped the doorstop off the wall and was happily trying to shove it in his mouth. Needless to say, I jumped out of the shower and took it from him. Superbaby strength, or just superbaby curiosity? You decide.