Expectations vs. Reality
We have officially entered the fall back-to-school season, which, for us, also means back to therapy. Last week, Elliott began serial casting, something he hasn't had to do since December 2021.
Serial casting is applied to his right ankle to strengthen his leg muscles and increase muscle tone quickly and effectively. After casting, he will return to his daily brace, which will continue to stabilize and maintain flexibility in his ankle day to day. When he goes through growth spurts and takes breaks from therapies, historically, these have significantly decreased his muscle tone. There are numbers and ranges that ankles can naturally flex to. The number goal for Elliott therapists try to maintain is between +10 and +15. When we started this casting process, he measured at a -2, which meant they wanted his flexibility to increase by nearly 17 degrees.
All that to say, leading up to this first casting appointment, I was feeling more apprehensive than usual. We hadn't done this process in so long that Elliott was much older and more active now to notice, and potentially be bothered by this cast.
Elliott is also at an age where he can understand that he has Cerebral Palsy. Nathan and I have reached a pivotal point in parenthood, at a very early stage, where we have to teach him hard life lessons about perspective and difference, and also to walk a fine line between remembering that he is a five-year-old. Elliott is deeply intuitive, so we are constantly finding a balance between being honest with him and not crushing his spirit. We are teaching him now what CP means, and that he is capable of anything; he may just have to work harder at it. We constantly have to show him that when life gets tough or feels unfair, he can get through it and come out the other side.
I knew that casting had its limitations, specifically, not being able to swim or take baths because it couldn't get wet. It is still hot enough out that our neighborhood pool is open — a staple we often frequent, and Elliott loves it.
So putting a cast on his leg draws attention to all those points above, and he especially doesn't like any limitations around it, meaning he didn't want to get this done at all, but he just plain had to.
As the appointment approached, I was hyper-focused on making the day as fun as possible. I wanted to find joy points surrounding the casting experience. A joy point is something that we can clearly call a highlight and that can stand out above the rest of the day.
In the morning, before I dropped him off at school, we had a plan for me to pick him up early so we could swim together and grab lunch before the appointment. A sure-fire joy point, I thought.
Our appointment was at 1:15. I picked him up at 11:45, in my bathing suit, ready for a fun mommy-and-son date.
What really happened was that we sat in the car in front of the pool while he screamed and cried, telling me he didn't want to get into the pool. In fact, he didn't want to do anything at all.
It was in this moment that I had to readjust my expectations vs. my reality. Initially, I felt frustrated and bummed. I was looking forward to an afternoon of fun with just Elliott and me, something that doesn't seem to come as easily these days. But in that moment, I was reminded how fragile my sweet boy was.
He was having BIG feelings about this casting appointment, and he didn't quite know how to express them other than sheer upheaval from the inside out. He was scared and sad and worried, and it was all coming out at once. My heart broke for him, and all I could do was hold him and let him cry it out.
I made a vow to myself a long time ago that I would always allow him the safe space to be able to feel really big, raw feelings, even if that means hitting and kicking objects in the moment, without consequence (as long as he is not hurting himself or others). It is after these huge emotions that I remember just how much he really does have going on in his little brain.
We sat in the car, in front of the pool, for 45 minutes before he started to calm down. The "joy point" went nowhere near expected, but I wasn't filled with disappointment. I was filled with gratitude that he was given the space to process what he needed to, in a safe and loving place, so he could take the rest of the day in stride.
When his world feels out of control, which it often does — especially medically, I find it very helpful to give him some control back. I give him choices and power in his own voice and actions, especially after a true meltdown. It shows him he is heard, he matters, and that his feelings are ok and normal.
So, as I drove to the appointment, I asked him if he wanted to make a pitstop at Starbucks for a cake pop, which was actually the plan for the post-appointment celebration. In his very excited yes, it was finally something that made him smile a little. I let him choose everything that had to do with Starbucks — Do you prefer drive-through or to go inside? Which cake pop sounds good? Do you want to help me pay? Where do you want to sit?
We sat silently, and I rubbed his back while he ate his cake pop. I chose to see this particular moment as my joy point.
The ironic thing is that when we got to the appointment, he was fantastic. He sat still, complied with the therapists' requests, and picked out a pink cast with a temporary tattoo of a ninja turtle. #balance. The whole process took about 40 minutes, and he ran out of the building without slowing down.
We have now moved into the second week of casting. He has chosen blue for this week and has gained about 4 degrees of ankle flexion. With this weekly cadence, we should be done with casting in about three more weeks.
I have since thought long and hard about that day, and it has made me wonder, is this theme of our expectations not meeting our reality more common than I realized? It happens often, to anyone, no matter who you are or what you're going through.
What is something in your life that hasn't gone as expected and you have had to readjust, accept & move on?
If you live your life hoping for things to always go a certain way, you will almost always be let down. Learning this lesson may be hard, but it is important, and sometimes that is all that matters. I am convinced that finding contentment in the process is what will ultimately bring joy and a life well lived with peace and happiness.
