Torticollis

Apparently we’re not quite finished with our in-depth study of new vocabulary words.  You know, Monteggia fracture, Torticollis …. I hope the next word is something like Baklava.  Adam woke Monday morning with his head hyper-extended to the right, completely unable to move it.  When I tried to help him he cried out with severe pain.  Because he didn’t have fever, meningitis seemed unlikely.  When ibuprofen didn’t touch it and he was still lying exactly the same way three hours later, I knew it was more than just a pulled muscle from sleeping on it the wrong way.  After more ibuprofen I tried to help him sit up in bed by supporting both his head and his back and pulling him up in a straight line.  He cried out again with pain and before we got to a sitting position he was too dizzy to go on.  I called his pediatrician in Virginia who said to try heat.  By 2:30 I insisted he get out of bed to go to the bathroom so we tried again.  One hand behind his head, one behind his back and a straight pull vertically.  His back muscles were rigid like concrete.  He cried with pain but we went slowly and he didn’t get dizzy.  Adam said his neck wouldn’t hold his head and the slightest shift in movement caused excruciating pain so I had to hold his neck and head the way you do a cervical trauma patient and somehow help him shuffle toward the bathroom.  His left foot wouldn’t go straight ahead; it pulled to the right.  By the time we were halfway finished with the necessary part of the trip he started screaming that he’s going to throw up.  The logistics were pretty grim.

Having your dominant arm casted from fingers to shoulder is inconvenient.  Also having your neck muscles spasm so severely that your head can only be positioned in the direction of that shoulder makes things like eating downright awkward and vomiting something to be avoided at all cost.  I got him back to bed as quickly as I could while he turned grey and diaphoretic and later told me things went dark.  But!  He did not vomit.  I knew we needed help and after talking to our pediatrician’s office again, I called the local one who couldn’t see us because they had no appointments left for the day and who insisted we go to the ER.

I was in tears.  That ER?  Again?  David suggested I bring him to Hagerstown since he was up there doing camp work anyway.  My friend, Sheryl, came to help me get out the door.  I carried the top half of Adam and she carried the bottom half and we slowly and carefully transported him to the front seat of the van where he could lie down and be fairly comfortable.  Liam stopped a mile down the road to play with a friend and off we went.

The Hagerstown ER was a completely different experience.  The triage nurse started getting a wheelchair until I told him that I didn’t know if Adam would be able to sit up because it made him dizzy.  He listened quietly, called the nurse in the back to see if there was a bed, then walked to the van and carefully picked up Adam and carried him through multiple hallways until he got to an empty bed.  The nurses were helpful and the doctor had that relaxed confidence that happens to doctors with years of experience.  Not cocky.  Not standoffish because they’re unsure of themselves.  David said if we need an ER again, we’ll just always drive there.  I said unless the kids aren’t stable enough to make the drive.  In which case, he said, we’d call the squad anyway.  In retrospect, that conversation kind of cracks me up.  We have literally never been in the ER except after he rolled the truck and broke his hand and Adam had to be seen just because he was so young.  I am certainly hoping this hasn’t turned into an every three week occurrence!

Adam was discharged with narcotics and ibuprofen.  We’ve been doing heat and ice and he is making progress!  Yesterday he could get out of bed and walk to the recliner even if the process looked like this.

At lunchtime he only made it to the table for five minutes before he couldn’t hold his head up anymore.  At dinner time, he made it through a quick meal.  By evening he could turn his head to a neutral period of time before letting it go back.

Today he popped out of bed on his own with his head staying only slightly to the right and the capability of opening his mouth completely.  He can turn his head somewhat to the left for a few seconds.

This child is such a trooper.  Last night he complained about having nothing to read.  He’s read everything in his scope about three times or more and it is way past time to get to the library.  But he never complains about the pain or about all the things he’s missing out on. Speaks wistfully, yes, but no complaining.  I could learn a lot from him.  He’s gotten a lot of gifts since he broke his arm and the other night when I was helping him get out of the tub, David walked in the door and said he had a box.  He raised his eyebrows a bit and said, “I like this treatment a lot.” 😉

So here’s to another day of lots of books on tape and hopefully more healing.

• ← A broken arm and a healed heart
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