He wasn't thrilled about adding yet another medical professional onto his already-full dance card of doctors to visit. For days before the first appointment with the neurologist, he kept telling me, "But I don't need a neur . . . what? A neurologist. I don't need a neurologist." As we sat in the waiting room, that refrain returned. You know, if I was a nine-year-old kid, I wouldn't want a neurologist, either.
But then he got into the exam room, and I was in awe. I just sat back quietly and watched during the first half of the appointment as Noah, in such a mature way, answered the doctor's questions about his health and sleep patterns. It was only when she got to tough questions about his birth complications and autism that the doctor had to turn to me for answers. I was so proud of my boy for taking ownership of his own healthcare, being his own advocate.
The most amazing part was when she examined Noah. He HATES having doctors examine him. I mean, he's got all these sensory issues and doctors come along and touch his body and shine lights in his eyes and jam sticks in his mouth. But Noah was incredible. He sat, he listened . . . and the only time he had any issues was when the doctor had to shine a light in his eyes. I was so proud.
Of course, it was the same thing that I heard with Nick--the doctor thought Noah was probably fine, but we'd do an EEG just to make sure.
Noah was a rockstar with the EEG. He had so much fun staying up late, and he was nothing short of incredible during the procedure, letting the tech place all of those electrodes all over his head even though he hates people touching his head. Simply amazing.
And then, of course, I got the same call that I'd gotten with Nick--the "wow, mom, you were right about the seizures!" call.
I sat down with Noah on his bedroom floor and explained to him about the excess electrical activity in his brain and the effect it has on him. I described the precautions we'd have to take now, explained he'd have to take medicine now, talked about the benefits that the medicine will have.
I expected him to get frustrated or upset--he hates taking medicine--but he didn't. He just calmly accepted it all with maturity and grace.
Noah has had to carry so much more than most kids would ever have to. Not only does he have his own medical issues to contend with, but he also has a severely autistic brother that often challenges his patience and understanding. He has his moments when it's all a little too much for him, but I'm surprised at how rare those moments are. He carries more weight that most adults do, and carries it better than most adults would.
That's what makes him a rockstar.
