Ordinarily, I’m not a big fan of the word “normal.” Mainly, because it implies that some things are ABnormal. I do not approve of that word, mainly because I was labeled with it throughout my life, or variants of it, like weird, strange, cooties, crazy, nutso, and on and on. Also, because there’s no such thing as a “normal” person. Every person is abnormal in one way or another. I never thought I would ever like the word “normal” or anything it implies.
This post is late because, yesterday, my husband, jaklumen, and I took our son in for a Multiple Resonance Imaging scan (MRI). It was recommended by the Children’s Village doctor we took him to last year along with genetic testing when he was officially diagnosed with autism. They also recommended evaluation to discover if he had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).
I have said over and over that there is nothing wrong with his head. It’s just big. Like his daddy’s. I should know. I could feel that gigantic melon of his in my pelvis for three out of the nine months I carried him in my womb. I’ve said over and over, it was like carrying a bowling ball between my knees. Not fun. But, apart from having a thick skull, there’s nothing wrong with his head. The Children’s Village doctors measured it and decided an MRI scan was a good idea just to be on the safe side. I have my own private opinion about that, but I didn’t voice it at the time.
So, yesterday, I spent the better part of the morning sitting in the hospital waiting room while my son had his MRI. We had determined that he would never be able to lie as still as the technicians would need him to lie if he was awake, so we suggested that he be anaesthetized for the procedure. We arrived at nine and they prepped him for his scan, then they wheeled him out and sent us down to the waiting room. I had brought along a Where’s Waldo book, because I knew the MRI would take two hours or more. So, I thought I was prepared.
But what mother is prepared for the possibility that some doctor is going to come out and say, “We found something else wrong with your son.” I really didn’t want my boy to have another diagnosis hanging around his neck. I mean, just his being my son has him marked as strange. Plus, what with the autism and the ADHD and the Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD), he talks incessantly and needs to be the center of everyone’s attention, sort of like a Siamese cat. Now, I was faced with the possibility that my son would have yet another diagnosis, another reason for the kids at school to laugh at him and/or avoid him. What mother wants that for her kid?
My son came successfully through his MRI and wasn’t wobbly at all, like the technicians said he might be. About fifteen minutes after we got home, we had a call from my son’s pediatrician. She had the results in front of her.
No swelling, no bleeding. He just has a big head, like I’ve been saying all his life.
What a relief. I’m so glad.