Worst Day

It’s hard to decide where to start. We’ve gone through so much and it’s not all easy to tell. I think parents find it hard to admit it to each other when things are going roughly; there’s a stigma attached to admitting a child is having trouble, so we tend to bottle our problems up instead of turning to each other for help.

However, I’ve found when I start talking to people about what we went through with Luke, they almost always have a story about their own child, or a child they know, that’s very similar. Once you admit your own difficulties and let your defenses down a little, other people do too, and you realize how much you have in common.

So here goes.

Before I start, though, I want to tell you what my son Luke is like today. He gets good grades at school, is described by his teacher as a “normal 3rd grade boy,” and is described by his friends’ parents as well-behaved and polite. At home, he has his good and bad days like any kid, but overall he’s a smart, funny, goofy, all-around good kid. The apple of his mom’s eye. ;-)

Let’s rewind about 5 years. One particular day comes to mind which I think of as hitting the absolute rock bottom.

Back then he was in preschool and getting a call from school to pick up Luke meant he was acting in a way that was so unacceptable that he could not stay. Those calls were becoming more and more frequent, and as I worked, I cringed whenever my phone rang about 1:00, which was right after lunch, nap time; Luke’s worst time of the day.

One day, sure enough, the phone rang and it was the child care director. She had affection for and understanding of Luke, but her voice was restrained, as though she was trying very hard not to say what she really wanted to say. “You’re going to have to pick up Lukas,” she said. “He’s having a very tough time. He wouldn’t sit still for quiet time, and when we tried to get him to at least sit down, he had a tantrum and threw books all over the room. Then he started hitting his teacher and he’s given her a bloody nose.”

My stomach dropped and I could feel the blood leaving my face. Again!? What is happening?!?

I rushed to the Y, and the room was a disaster; books strewn all over the room. The director filled me in. During his tantrum, his teacher tried to settle him down. Luke (who has always been a big kid) tried to hit her, and she restrained him by holding him on her lap and encircling him with her arms. Struggling, Luke threw his head back, right into her nose, bloodying it. Finally, he dissolved into tears, ending his tantrum, but he had to leave.

I brought Lukas home. He was miserable, remorseful, exhausted. Unable to explain why he did what he did. I was worried to death; deeply troubled by his behavior but at the end of my rope as to what to do about it.

This scenario (in lesser versions) had repeated itself over and over and nothing had worked. Rewards for good behavior, punishment for bad behavior, anger management counseling in preschool all had little effect. He was always pretty good until lunch time and then the meltdown would come. But this was the worst yet.

My husband and I talked that evening. We wondered for the hundredth time: how can Lukas be such a good-natured, funny, sweet little boy some days, then transform into this terribly-behaved problem child on others? We used to joke that he was either a “prince” or “the prince of darkness,” but it wasn’t a joking matter anymore. My husband finally said what I didn’t want to think—could he have a brain tumor?

It’s a terrible, stomach-wrenching feeling of helplessness when you’ve tried everything and nothing works, and when you don't know what's wrong.

In upcoming posts I’ll describe the symptoms Luke had, some of the experiences we went through, what the doctors said, and how I finally discovered that food was the culprit.

"It's always darkest before the dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it." --Author Unknown