Botox From Maria's Perspective

As a child Gus's age, I was very ill. Many nights were spent in hospitals with high fevers, infections and kidney disorders that the physicians just couldn't figure out. Tests upon more tests in facilities that were not meant for children but because of the insurance that my family had, were the places that I had to be treated. I was held down and stuck with needles. Often more than 5 times because my veins were so bad. I was allergic to almost everything that they gave me and so vomiting became a way of life. No one at the time thought a child should have procedures or tests explained to them and my parents did not even understand what was being done to me so I was left with out any information. The memories of all this have left me deeply scarred. So when Gus was diagnosed with PVL and CP I knew what lay ahead for him.

From his birth we have always tried to do what is best for him. We have tried many therapies and researched many more. When Botox was mentioned, I was very apprehensive. No way am I holding my kid down and letting someone stick needles in him, even if it is the best thing for him. I am not strong enough. But as the years and Gus's CP have progressed, we researched the Botox therapy and decided that is was Gus's best chance to reach his potential.

I knew what was going to happen yesterday. I was assured by other parents, therapists and doctors that the procedure would go quickly and that the numbing cream plus the cold spray would lessen the burn of the injections. For those of you that don't know, inter-muscular injections usually contain HCL to break down the tissue enough to allow the medicine to work. HCL is Hydro Chloric Acid. It hurts!

I was torn as soon as the appointment was made. I knew I could not hold him down. I didn't know if I could be in the room with out getting upset. In January when Gus had to be admitted to the hospital, I could not be in the room when he had his IV put in. I got upset. I made his experience mine and could not let that happen in front of him so I left the room and Christi stayed. I was a coward.

So yesterday I was determined to not leave the room. I could not hold him down but I would stay and try to provide some kind of comfort or at least try to make sure things went as smoothly as possible. The doctor did try to explain what was happening while she did the injections. Other hospital staff was there to assist Christi in trying to provide a distraction. But nothing distracts you from that kind of pain. My son cried. He cried out, "Mommy!". And in that, "Mommy!", I heard, "Why is this happening to me? Why are you letting them hurt me? Why are YOU hurting me? Help me! Help me!". The procedure took less that 10 minutes but seemed to last forever. I swallowed the acid that boiled up from my stomach and did not shed a tear. Christi held him and his tears lasted only a minute. I told him he was brave and that it was over (for now). The  doctor spoke to us gently and said this was the best way.  I believe her but it comes at a high cost.

My son learned that I would allow him to be hurt. I do not know that he understands that it was for a good reason, no matter how many times it is explained. As an adult, I understand now how some things are necessary but even with that perspective,  I know it is an experience that will shape him. He has already asked for the doctor's name and how to spell it. He is preparing for the next time all ready.

Yesterday, I laid an awfully heavy burden on my son. Endure a painful procedure so that you may not have to have your hips pop out of socket, you can sit up, stand and maybe even walk. It is a horrible price to be paid by a three-year old. I wish I could pay it for him but I cannot.

We have seen little signs that the Botox is working. He seems more flexible and less spastic. I still ask myself, "Is it worth it?". I hope it is.