Rompe La Cabeza

Question mark made of puzzle pieces

Question mark made of puzzle pieces (Photo credit: Horia Varlan)

In English, the word is puzzle. In Spanish, the phrase is rompe la cabeza, or rompecabeza. Translated literally, “breaks the head.”

Flower Child is my puzzle.  A beautiful, delicate, complicated puzzle.  For now, and for far too many years already, trying to put these pieces together…the Spanish feels more appropriate than the English. Breaking my head, trying to make sense of what is and what’s to come for my sweetness. The modern medical world is an absolute maze; so basically, it’s wandering through a labyrinth, trying to locate puzzle pieces, and then getting lost in an attempt to trace back to see where they might fit.

I used to like jigsaw puzzles. I found them relaxing.  I had a teacher who used to call those types of hobbies mental masturbation. Made sense.  But now?  No, the very sight of those stamped cardboard pieces induces a PTSD type reaction.

English: Image from The Great War taken in an ...

English: Image from The Great War taken in an Australian Advanced Dressing Station near Ypres in 1917. The wounded soldier in the lower left of the photo has a dazed, thousand-yard stare – a frequent symptom of “shell-shock”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Except for one teeny tiny contradiction, it isn’t “post” anything. I live it, we as a family live it, every day.

This morning I didn’t get up at 5AM and work on a story, or Mrs Fringe. This morning I got up at 5 to go over paperwork and organize copies of medical reports.   Another visit to a new specialist, this one specializing in the puzzle pieces that make up each of us. Three hours of going over medical history–Flower Child, me, Husband, Nerd Child, Man Child, and extended families.  If you’ve never had the pleasure, it’s the emotional equivalent of  sucking down a chocolate milkshake when you’ve got a molar in dire need of a root canal. A quick physical, looking, bending, measuring, hemming, hawing, instructing, and note taking. Then a trip down to the lab, and 80 reminders to FC about “girl power” while waiting for a blood draw, and of course, the positioning of the doll, the iPod, and the negotiating about what the treat will be afterwards.

The testing least likely to yield information is expected first, in three to four weeks. The rest of the results should be back in four months.  Follow up appointment in six months. An extra vial of blood was drawn, in case nothing useful is found in the testing done today, it will be used for round two of more detailed testing, taking another 6 months for results.  Now we play the hurry up and wait game.

Sundial

Sundial (Photo credit: njj4)

 

 

15 comments

  2. Ohhhh MrsF. </3 You know how I feel about all of this, and about your Flower Child. I'm with you through this process whenever you need a hand or a shoulder. I truly hope an answer will come, because FC needs it and because you need it too.

    I love rompecabeza. I really, REALLY love that. I think I'm saving it for future reference.

    Much love!!!

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  4. It feels funny to “like” this but I will translate my like to mean that I empathize with you as a mom. Struggling with finding the missing puzzle piece is the greatest challenge for a parent. However, with your faith, strength, and the knowledge that many fringelings are behind you, you will find the patience you need to wait for whatever answers come. Some puzzles have pieces that fit neatly, others not so much. Sometimes there are more questions than answers. Regardless, FC will feel your love. Best to you. Virtual hugs!

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    1. Thank you! I get it, by the way, the “like” is a like in much the way it was a good appointment. No one wants to have to have these types of appointments at all, but when you need them, it’s good to walk out feeling a step has been taken. ❤

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