The Human Touch 2013 - University of Colorado Denver

Battle’s sign
Jessica Campbell, MD
My boy is an “old soul.”
I recall
Staring deeply into his
Newborn baby browns
And feeling deep
In my Being
That this being
Has seen it all
Before
He is wise beyond his 7 years
He just knows things
He could sense it immediately
When…
Dr Awkward-With-Refl ex-Hammer-and-
Tuning-Fork
Walked in the room
It wasn’t going to go well
Resident silent in tow
Dr A rattled off 100 scripted questions
Without listening
Or seeing
Anything except
His own refl ection
One week already
My boy had bravely
Endured
Shakers and fevers and rashes and
visions and terror and severe headache
And almost no sleep
When I saw Battle’s sign
Straight out of a medical school
Child abuse powerpoint lecture
on MY precious, dear, beloved
big boy’s head…
Don’t you think
His Dr. Mommy wondered
Who to blame???
I surrendered him
To the ED of my hospital
And we found… nothing.
No mastoiditis.
No ear infection.
No masses in the brain.
Nothing.
We scratched our heads
And chalked it up
To viral syndrome NOS
But…
He got worse
And then we saw the battle
That caused the sign
Somehow he climbed
Ataxic, terrifi ed
Through disturbing visions of
violence
23 steep stairs up our tiny attic
staircase
Wide eyed and trembling
In an electrical brain storm
There was an EEG with 23 electrodes
A diagnosis of epilepsy
And then a consultation with Dr A
My son tired quickly of the tone
And the lack of manner
He asks “is this the inquisition?”
Dr A spars,
“Does your father ever hit kick or punch
you?”
My boy counters,
“Yes, every Monday Wednesday and
Friday.”
The doctor couldn’t contain his judgment.
To the resident
He whispered
“I think we will need to call social services”
My boy
Had no idea
Why
The rest of the consultation got so tense.
You see… my son is a ninja
Truly
For real
You know like the original Karate Kid
Ninjitsu
Ninja
He has been training in the dojo
With Senpai Daddy
Since he was 2
First he was a little dragon
Five years later “mean and green”
Monday Wednesday and Friday
150 times a year
I sat there
Steeping in misplaced shame
Hot under the artifi cial light
In full awareness of the absurdity of the
accusation
Somehow they buy our story
And we are released
My son turns to me
And says “We need a different
doctor”
You see what I mean
My boy is perceptive
I’d like to say it got better
But, it got worse
And worse still
And the relief we prayed for
Over antiepileptic drugs
Was a false promise that
Instead
Created horrifying visions of
Mommies as vampires and
and Daddies as werewolves
Up until 6 weeks ago, I had
indeed been
“Living the dream”
And suddenly,
My living dream
Became a waking nightmare
As my old soul’s beautiful mind
Twisted over toxic tangled
electrical storms
I am no stranger to the
dysfunction
Of Medicine that values drug over
diet
Or humans
Who want a quick fi x
I should have known
There is no band aid to heal this
boy
PG 84
PG 85