ch-ch-ch-changes...

There are just so many Shout updates to update.

Her last week of school was rough.

All year, she's been in an afternoon class, but for the last week, they switched to the morning. (Because the morning class was over already.) When I was thinking how nice it would be for me (no lines at the grocery store, lots of parking at Target), I failed to appreciate how hard it would be on her.

And by hard, I mean, screaming, crying, refusing to go to school. She threw so many fits that we missed half of each day of school. And it was already a half day, which brings me to a quarter day, which is almost not worth changing out of pajamas for.

On the very last day of school, the kids and parents all walked to an ice cream shop that's about 1/2 a mile away.

It mostly went fine until we started the walk back. All of a sudden, I looked up from about 100 yards away and I could see her break free from her class and run directly toward the very.very.busy.road the ice cream shop was on. Straight towards traffic. Her teacher grabbed her at the very edge of the curb, and I *think* she would have stopped there on her own (if she didn't fall into the street, of course), but I'm not entirely sure. And the poor person who was driving the car she almost ran in front of may very well have had a heart attack.

Then she proceeded to pitch one of her classic fits where she was screaming and thrashing and running away from me along the sidewalk of this very.very.busy.road. I couldn't catch her.

I was yelling and begging and crying and running and I could. not. catch. her. At one point, I almost called the police because I thought for sure she was going to end up getting run over by a car.

Finally. Finally. I caught her and basically dragged her back to school. I had my two hands so tight on her wrist there are bruises. I was terrified to let her go.

And because it was the last day of school... and because she has wanted to walk to school all year and I haven't done it... we gathered our stuff and then had to walk (oh, maybe a mile and a half) home. Her pulling away from my grip, me holding on for dear life and trying to calm my pounding heart.

I think it was a culmination of a lot of things. The schedule change. The end of the only school she's ever known. Big kid school looming ahead. She'll never admit it, but I think she's scared. Change is so hard for her.

On the health front, her stomach is a lot better. Before, I could see on her face that she was uncomfortable most of the day. Now, it's just when she lies down for bed and first thing in the morning. (Which to me seems like classic reflux, but what do I know?)

For right now, it doesn't seem too uncomfortable. It's not waking her up in the middle of the night any more. I'm just going to let it go. She cuddles up with a puke bucket every night, but she hasn't had to use it and she still falls asleep. If things get worse, I'm going to beg for some liquid Zantac.

We did see the nephrologist a few weeks ago. He gave me some possibilities of what she might have (and some of them were pretty scary), but right now, her symptoms are mild (she has blood in her urine but it's microscopic and there was no protein this time, which was the more concerning symptom). He gave me a list of tests he wants run the next time I SEE blood in her urine.

Except, I don't generally see her urine. And honestly, I'm not going to add that to my list of things to do. She'll be going to school in the fall and I'm not even going to be in the same building as her urine.

I need to have a chat with Dr. Everything Will be Alright (although he is out on medical leave and I really hope Everything Will be Alright there)... but I think we would see increasing symptoms if any of the somewhat scary options he mentioned are actually the problem.

And can you believe, the kid hasn't had a normal blood pressure reading in over a year... in the nephrology clinic? Completely normal. Three times. (I'm sure she did that on purpose.)

I'm just going to sit on this for now too.

Going to the doctor seems to REALLY stress Shout out. And by "stress out," I mean, she kicked the nephrologist. Multiple times. It was ugly. There were tears. And they weren't all hers. (No. Not the doctor. She didn't kick him that hard.)

She's going to spend the summer being a normal kid with no doctor appointments. (Oh, except for the OT and psychologist evaluations. But no needles or stethescopes there.) And by "normal," I mean her usual self. Really, what IS normal?