P.T.C.D.

Yep,
I have it. My friend and fellow cast Mommy told me of this condition. P.T.C.D. Post Traumatic Cast Disorder. I'm stealing it forever.

I have been trying to be so courageous and strong these last several weeks. If you put on a brave face, others see it and believe it and then sometimes you start to believe it, too. Others worry and share their love and concern, which we are so grateful for, the week up to the cast and the week after the cast.

But it's like a death. Sooner or later, lives go back to normal and people move on....except we don't. We still mourn, wallow, dive into our depression and brave the storms of living with scoliosis and cast life.
This week it sucks.

Up until this week, we have been fortunate to not have to deal with too many cast issues of blisters, pain, discomfort, etc. or soiling. We are lucky in this because I have been told it is NOT fun. I feel like I have not fully tackled the trials of cast life because we had been so lucky. Well truth be told, luck runs out.

Monday morning started as lots of sucky Mondays do: dreary, rainy and wet. Well, ours was that. Wet. Jackson woke up and smelled like a porta-potty. His cast was soiled with urine and it pained me to hold my son close. How awful is that? When you can't even bear the odor of your own child, do you know what that does to you?

I spent the day sulking. I hit the wall. I went to my wallow place and threw myself a pity party. Except I was the only invitee. Well, actually my children indirectly reaped the benefits of the party with my sour mood and less than perfect motherly manner.

I suppose it just hit me that day. My son IS different. I had never allowed myself to think that way because I kept telling myself that he is isn't. I forced myself to believe that scoliosis wouldn't set him apart from any other child. But it does. And on Monday....everything about PIS got to me. The pee, the 45 minute process of having to remove all of the tape, the cotton, scrub the t-shirt, re-tape, only to have him soaked again on Tuesday morning. How this summer will be so stressful and hard because I'll have to keep him from swimming with his twin brother and big sister, how the closer he gets to a new cast, the less he sleeps because he grows out of it by week 10. There is a big list, but I'm not going further with it.

So, I resolve....I have PTCD. There you have it.