Medical

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Meds – Starting New Ones

needs: Meds- starting new ones.

Confession: she has been prescribed new meds and my beloved filled the script but we haven’t started them, yet.
First up- it’s not life threatening. This is a situation where the Neuro wants to try something and we have lead-in time. A lead-in time that is slipping like sands through the hour glass and I really want to be the Hope Brady of this situation, not the Stefano Dimera.

Every morning I set out her constant companion ‘regular meds’. Those I know. I’ve survived my blind date, 2nd date nerves, fall-out from the first fight, miscommunication, heartfelt rejection and romantic reconciliation with those meds. We are wedded to those meds, and take them for granted until we don’t. We’ve taken them home to the Brady Pub to meet the family. Those meds are bound to us, for better or worse, in good times and Dimera times.

Confession: I am afraid of new meds and the ripples they bring to our life. The writers’ room has drafted in a new special guest star, and I am afraid of the chaos that may ensue. So, I open the med draw. I glare at them. Give them a tap tap- see you tomorrow. And put it off one more day. Queue the thinking close up and breathy voice over: “I’m just not ready”.

Confession: After a few days I tell my beloved I am afraid of the new meds. He is all action, all solving, all take over and fix it and it turns out I am still afraid. But like Beau Brady, he confesses “I’m afraid too fancy face”.

Confession: When my girl asks about the new meds I tell her we will get to it. I feel bad about that.

Confession: If new meds were a train pulling into the station, I was sitting on the platform watching the train go, again, telling myself there would be another one, and another one, and that we had time.

Confession: When I read the review letter it was simple, straight forward. This was a new tablet, for mornings only. It would help her, but we wouldn’t know for a week. She might have some emotional challenges and watch out for a rash. I had heard these things before.

Confession: After 8 years, it still makes me nervous, I still don’t want her to have to take meds, I don’t want this to be her life.

Confession: She might not need this; this is a shot in the medical dark that is the moving target of her brain and we are one study short of discovering this is abuse. (Some of my thoughts are unhelpful)
Confession: She might really need this and the new meds could make the world better, easier, kinder, for her. (Some of my thoughts are helpful)

I laid them out in the sweet little bowls I bought for this. I was going to give them to her and I was going to keep a bit of a list. See how they landed, kept an eye on things. Should be fine? And they all lived happily ever after, until they didn’t and then they did, and then they didn’t and then they did…

means: The snakes and ladders of new meds for us

We have somewhere to keep them.
We have scripts dates diarised.
We have appointments with the specialist for a review.
We are kind to her, my beloved, my dude and me.
We keep the calendar light.
If it’s a stimulant, we plan a mental workload, a physical workload and an off to sleep routine.
We name the day: “that was a tricky one”, “that was a good one”, “that was a better one”.
Our goal is a child who is free to experience life, (all the feelings, thoughts and actions) and explore her potential as much as modern medicine and her family’s support will nurture.
Queue close-up: Beau and Hope and the kids hug long, breath in deep, and we take the next right step, together.

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Meds – The Messy Meds Draw

needs: Meds- the messy meds draw.

It was a pile of bottles, boxes and scripts in the middle of the bench. I transferred them to a tray. The tray inherited hair ties, payslips, elastic bands and pens. It was cleared to the drop zone under the microwave. The meds changed and were stored with bits of unread advice from the pharmacist. Then came the blood and imagery referrals. Afterall, the scripts and referrals were important so they must be in a good place if they were all together with an old lotto ticket, a screw driver, currency from a country we had never been to and instructions to a fish tank for dearly departed Lorelei.

And her vitamins, and then all our vitamins were added to the mix because, birds of a feather, right? After a cranky little outbreak of worms that disgusting chocolate joined the fold, and obviously the dogs worm treatment followed suit. In a flurry, the box was cleared away and papers were filed never to be found again. It became a box of meds and pain relief. Then cold and flu season hit and the box took on Vicks inhalers, lozenges and other snot suspects that enlisted the vitamins again. Finally, all the other bottles, all the other mothers had said would change the world …. came to stay.

Everything in that over-crowded box was important at some stage, but meds are different. They are always important, and other items in my house can’t piggy back on their significance.

How I store the meds is not indicative of how well I care for my girl but it does shape how I feel I am meeting her needs. That feeling is big, not decisive, but it cannot be ignored. I also know my feelings around meds are strongly repeated with each dose. So, I changed the chaos to feel better. It’s a good thing right?

Hell yes. This is on the right side of letting my crazy need to control this wild ride. Tending the organisation garden makes me feel better about the things I cannot control. For me, organising the meds, takes the mean out of meeting her needs. It also means my beloved can tag in and dish them out.

So where is the best place to organise things?

means: Kmart my darling, Kmart

  • Seriously where was I before Kmart?
  • Kmart has these bamboo cutlery draws in different shapes and sizes.
  • I choose a draw near the med must haves: food and water- so it’s a kitchen draw for us.
  • A kitchen draw can be easily accessed, and a draw can be easily locked.
  • At the very front, we have a current meds row- just a strip (no box)
  • Behind that, ready to pick up the baton, we have the containers and remainders of current meds.
  • Boxes and bottles with prescription information about Dr. and dose are essential for camps, hospital and travel.
  • We have a section for general pain relief, cold and flu, a section for vitamins – this normalises the med draw for the whole family.
  • We have a section for pens because they were going to gate crash anyway.
  • We have a section for pill boxes, plastic syringes and those little cups.
  • We don’t have a section for paperwork – scripts and referrals do not belong here.

And when I open the draw I feel good. And when she sees the draw she knows it’s sorted. And when there is a change in meds they join the party easily. And when someone has to step in, it is clear and easy to follow.