Electrical Short Circuits

 

So the special doctor that looks inside my head says there are some odd electrical firings going on even while I sleep. He wants me to take this syrup stuff three times a day. Not only that, my now squeamish Dad took me for a blood test but asked the nice nurse ladies to do it in the back rooms. I made sure he could still hear my screams as they poked me with a sharp needle. Alls well that ends well and blood is normal. Bad news is after three weeks they do it again to see if the epilepsy medication agrees with me.In the meantime those that know these things said I must get a pegboard to help with my fine motor skills. Well Durban simply does not have any so Dad made me one with scraps from his garage. Will have to do for now I guess. He is such a cheapskate and says I only get pretty colours when he finds some safe paint that I can chew on.

Just in Case

Today Dad did the oddest of things. First he keeps me awake all morning then gives me something to sleep then still tries to keep me awake. Eventually he bundles me into the car and off we go for an EEG scan. I am now in my second wind and refuse to sleep. At the hospital I eventually give in for twenty minutes which is enough time to connect me up to look like a Christmas tree. The nice lady records my brain patterns which the special doctor with the nice toys will analyze next week. Apparently they are searching for any sign of seizure activity which is all related to some kind of trauma or “insult” that I had around my birth. I am already favoring my right hand which should only happen at the age of three. I have also been trying to stand up but only manage to arch my back on all fours like a yoga pose. Otherwise the special doctor was pleased with all my other tests and said only time will tell. He told Dad to organize me some playmates to hang out with. I could have told him that long ago. Oh yes as soon as I got home I slept for the next ten hours. That will teach them to keep me awake when I want to sleep!

Riding High (13 months)

I must say the view from up here is interesting. Right now I think I have a lot more hair than Dad does. Then again I have never had a haircut in thirteen months.  Weighing in at 8.2 kgs I am now crawling around the house in my own inimitable fashion. Dad is sure relieved and I suppose now he expects me to start talking and walking. In the meantime we await the big appointment with the clever doctor on 24 October when once and for all we will dissect all those scans and reports. I have news for him though as I know i will pass with flying honors.

The big One

So I’m now one year old already. Friends family and neighbours gathered with me to celebrate this grand milestone. So many people and so many presents. Thank you all. Dad said he will ration them out to me so I don’t get overwhelmed. What a cheek!! it’s my party after all. My big sister (she with the red hair) also turned 25 today and when my party ended hers started. I was packed off to bed while they danced the night away. Life just isn’t fair but you wait my turn will come.

The Big One

Can you believe I am nearly one year old already. Yes good people I am personally inviting you all to my party. There will be food and drink and balloons and all that party stuff. The cake has been ordered already. So make sure you update your busy diary and make a note for Saturday 20 August between 2 and five in the afternoon. If you need directions my Dad will sort you. Just call him on 082 570 5364. See you there.

Had it with Scans

  I hit the eleven month mark and Dad drags me off for another scan. This time he starves me from one in the morning and promises to feed me after the scan at about eight. We get to this big hospital at the ungodly hour of 6.30am and proceed to wait and wait and wait. They then tell him they can only do me at 9.30 as the nice man that puts you to sleep is running late. By now my tummy is rumbling something serious and I need food and drink badly. I start to yell and cry but they ignore me at first. Eventually Dad throws his toys out the proverbial cot and attacks the management. They try to calm him down and he threatens to walk out. Eventually they call my number and down we go to this humongous machine. I am very unhappy and crying and thrashing about. This sleep mechanic then holds me down and proceeds to gas me unconscious. Dad take one look at this and bursts into tears. I was so embarrassed. One of the nurses even passed him a box of tissues. Can’t imagine what they must have thought. I drift off and they drug me further. Half an hour its all over and am I ready for food. I knock  down two bottles and as soon as we are home I polish off four servings of food. This fasting stuff is not for me. They give Dad a CD showing  the inside of my head which looks like a scary movie. Once again the report is so so with no major problems. Once again I told them not to waste so much money. Dad still insists on a breakdown from one more baby brain expert before he calls it a day and lets me be me, small head and all.

PS Dad blames the fuzzy picture on the magnetic waves. I say he needs to sharpen up.

On your Bike

Today  Dad reckons I am ready to hit the road so to speak. Thanks to Sharlene Versveld who gave him this special backpack thingie I now have to tag along with him on the beachfront. I mean there are over seven kilometers of cycling trails there with lots of nice eating places en route. It was such a long cycle that I dropped off to sleep in my little cocoon . Trouble is I’m getting heavier so Dad better buy one of those attachment seats to take the load of his aching back . In the meantime I cling on for dear life as he dodges all manner of skateboards and learner bike riders.