Tag Archives: gappy

A Pain That Cannot Be Communicated!

I remember a little girl looking up at her mum with sad eyes and saying, “Mummy, I have a headache in my tummy” her hands hugging her belly in pain.

She didn’t have the words or knowledge to express her pain, so she did it in the only way she knew how.

Fifteen years ago, I lay curled up on a hospital bed in pain, a doctor came up to me and asked me my symptoms. Looking up at him through the slits in my eyes, I mumbled, “I don’t know.” The pain was so great that it emanated throughout my body disguising its source.

Illness comes in many forms and even when you have the ability to express verbally what is wrong, we often cannot find the words or process the detail to do so.

And that’s for those of us who can talk.

So when I picked up Rhys from school this morning, the absence of language and knowledge to express his pain, was only presented with tears and the words, “Sad”.

Rhys is either happy or sad.

Just one or the other. He doesn’t kmow any level in-between.

So I become a detective and look for the non-verbal signs. A feel of his forehead to check for temperature, a look at the colour in his face, the sound of a cough or a sniffle, and the alertness of his character.

There is no temperature, no cough, no sniffles. But he holds his ears and cries, with the words “sad” verbalised between breathes.

He wont eat except for soft food like his white bread sandwich – his crackers and orange remaining untouched.

When we get home, he perks up. The quiet atmosphere is a blessing to his torment. But a flash of the calpol syringe sets him off again. The request to bring something to his mouth brings distress.

I think I have identified the culprit of his pain. His teeth. The new big boy teeth pushing through his tender gums.

But I have been wrong before. I can only guess. I can only make sense of what I see. Because my little boy cannot tell me.

So we will play it safe. Give him another day’s rest and fingers crossed he is ok.

This is where things are tough. Tough for both sides, the struggle to communicate, and the challenge to help.

Forty-eight more hours of cuddles is all I have to offer…

… and sneaky calpol in his squash.

Get well soon little buddy.

❤❤❤❤

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A Cage Fighter or Just a Little Boy?

We are at that stage in my son’s life. That phase where he looks more like a cage fighter than my little blonde haired cutie.

He parts his lips to smile at me, but I am met with a gappy mouth. The loss of his top and bottom two teeth in the space of two weeks, has left him looking like (well if he was ten years older) someone you would not want to meet in a dark alley!

The first tooth loss came and went, with no fuss and was a pretty much a non-event. But things have changed.

Rhys stood this evening and watched his reflection in the window. The massive gap in his teeth reflecting back at him. He continued to babble, phrases from Hey Duggee and Peppa Pig flowing from his mouth in his own little muddled up conversation. He watched his mouth move and the gap flashing back at him from the temporary mirror. As he spoke, the words were interrupted with sobs and gasps for air. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and turning his face to me he whimpered “I’m sad”.

“Why you sad, Rhys?” I asked, trying to take him in my arms, but the comfort wasn’t accepted, and he pulled away, turning to communicate his pain to me with his hands, the words unable to roll off his tongue.

Then placing his fingers to my mouth, he tried to pull at my teeth. His tears rolling further down his face.

“Rhys, teeth will come back” I said, realising his confusion at the change that had happened so quickly. I looked to the table and saw his uneaten dinner. The feeling of biting into his crackers had put him off his food. Lunch lay untouched in the kitchen from earlier, a little boy who couldn’t face the strange sense in his mouth continued looking at me with confusion.

Once Rhys had realised that I understood why he was sad, he let me take him in my arms. He let me cuddle him, while his tears continued to fall.

To my other children the joy of a little fairy bringing a gold coin, in exchange for their teeth, is an event that they will wiggle every second of the day to bring closer. For Rhys, the exchange of money for his pearly whites, is a bizarre concept he is unable to comprehend. To Rhys he has no teeth where there used to be, and that is upsetting.

Rhys’ bottom teeth are coming through, his top gap is just gums. It is a change to the norm, and it will take some time to adapt to.

For now, cuddles are unlimited, while we step through another change in this scary thing called life!

I now just need to go and pull on my fairy wings and grab a bag of chocolate coins. Because chocolate makes everyone a little bit brighter.

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

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