Down the Rabbit Hole or Medication, pt. 2

Step into my house. Time is measured differently here.

He doesn't eat during the day. A banana here, a waffle there, perhaps a small bag of fruit snacks if I coax him. That's all.

Until magic hour.

Meds wear off just after dinner time. Then he's HUNGRY. Like a bear coming out of hibernation. All the meals he's missed, all the calories he hasn't had, he makes up for in one three-hour binge. Watermelon, chips, chicken nuggets, yogurt, popcorn, cantelope, toast, cereal, chocolate milk. He eats and eats and eats and I'm left wondering where he's putting it all. But we keep the courses coming until he has his fill. Only then do my mommy worries settle a bit as I mentally add up calories and realize with relief that he's not going to starve.

That's our life on medication. A daily routine of feast and famine.

He's lost a little weight since the meds. Nothing to worry about, the doctor assures me. All the same, the little boy who used to eat constantly night and day is no more and I'm still trying to adjust.

"Are the meds helping?" the doctor asked me yesterday at his check-up.
"Yes, they are . . . " I trailed off, watching my son bounce off the walls in the exam room. He always bounces off the walls in exam rooms. It's one of the constants in life.
"They haven't solved all our problems, " I explained. "But then, we weren't expecting them to."

True. The meds have helped. School work comes easier. Social situations are better navigated. Restaurants are no longer on my list of Places to Avoid. Even listening and following directions seems to happen more often.

But the medication has not fixed everything. Caleb is still a highly energetic boy with sensory needs. He still struggles to function in a classroom setting, even with me right by his side. I still refuse to enter the black hole that is Shopping with the Boy. And he doesn't sleep much.

In fact, some days I wonder if the meds are doing enough.

But I should note here, and thankfully so, what medication has not done. It has not changed my son. He is not a zombie, staring off into space, out of sync with the world while evil pharmeceuticals run unchecked through his veins. He is still Caleb, creator of monsters, builder of legos, player of computer games. He's still in love with the beach, all things related to Halloween, and is the most recent Dr. Who convert in the house. He still tells me stories. He is my little boy. Meds and all.