Excerpted from Dr. Lance Fogan’s novel, DINGS
Chapter 20 (continued): Part II
That
evening I stood in the doorway of the kids’ bathroom and watched Sam tell
Conner about the anti-seizure medication. “Conner, the doctor said that you
need to take these Dilantin capsules or you could start shaking again.” Sam
forced a hesitant smile, gauged Conner’s response and his expectant face, and
continued, “So you need to swallow these capsules. You have to take one of
these smaller ones with a drink of water every morning. Then, you have to take
this bigger one—this one with the red stripe—every night before bed. We’re
going to start with the bigger one.”
“No!
It’s too big, Daddy. I won’t! I can’t swallow that!” A vein throbbed in
Conner’s neck and his eyes brimmed with tears. He kicked the lower cabinet door
under the sink. “I won’t do it!”
“Conner,
stop that right now! I am not going to argue with you about this! You’re going
to take this medicine,” Sam ordered. “Here’s a glass of water. Put the capsule
in your mouth and swallow it with some water. It will go right down. Open up.”
It
was difficult to watch them, but I didn’t butt in.
I
saw Sam’s hand tremble as he placed the capsule on our son’s swollen and
discolored tongue. Conner wrinkled his nose and took a sip of water from the
glass. He immediately started to gag.
“Here!
Swallow, Conner! Hold your head over the sink!” Sam’s attempt at self-control
was pathetic. He was about to lose it.
Conner
retched a couple times and spit the capsule out with the water. He sobbed, “I
can’t swallow it! I’ll choke!”
Sam
grimaced. “Come on, Conner,” he said as he retrieved the capsule from the sink.
“You can do it. Try again.” The boy began to cry even harder and kicked the
cupboard again. “Stop it! Stop kicking!”
He
grabbed Conner’s arm. Sam’s face blazed with fury.
I
unfolded my arms and moved forward. “Hold on, Sam! Sam! Stop!” Conner’s screams muffled my protestations.
“Ahhhowwww!
You’re hurting me! Stop it, Daddy! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
“Sam!
Sam, enough! Let me try. You wait downstairs. Conner and I will get it down. Go
ahead. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Sam
dropped Conner’s arm and shook his head. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll go downstairs. I’m
sorry, Conner.” He handed me the capsule, turned on a military heel and left.
Conner
sobbed, “Owww. Daddy hurt my arm,
Mom!”
“He
didn’t mean to, honey. He didn’t mean it. Come on. I’ll help you take it.”
“I
won’t t-take it! It’s n-not fair!” He screamed between sobs. “Why do I have to
t-take that pill? It’s too big! I’ll ch-choke!”
“I
know, Conner. It’s hard to do new things sometimes. But it’s very, very
important that you swallow this pill.” At that moment the tune from Mary Poppins, “A Spoonful of Sugar,”
sprang into mind. “Do you think that if I put it in some ice cream, or maybe
chocolate milk, you’d be able to swallow it? I think it would be a lot easier.
Let’s try that, okay?”
Conner’s
demeanor immediately softened. I flashed him a smile. I should have asked Dr.
Choy to give us a liquid form of the Dilantin if there was one. Conner would
have to swallow this tonight, but if he couldn’t get it down I would call Dr.
Choy.
He
sobbed a couple of times and wiped tears with his pajama sleeve.
“Let’s
go to the kitchen and put the capsule in some chocolate ice cream.” I took his
hand and we went downstairs.
“Did
he take it?” Sam called. He was sitting on the couch in the den, holding a
glass half-filled with an amber liquid. An open whiskey bottle was on the
coffee table. “I’m sorry that I grabbed you, son. Forgive me, Conner?”
“Yeah,
Daddy, but you squeezed my arm real hard,” he answered as he wiped his nose
with the sleeve of his free hand.
“He’s
going to take it with chocolate ice cream.” I said with a grin and began to
sing, “A-spoonful-of-sugar-la-da-da-da-da-da.” Conner sat in his usual seat at
the kitchen table. He had a sheepish grin. I got the ice cream out of the
freezer and scooped some into a bowl. Sam walked in, the newspaper clenched in
one hand and the glass in the other.
I
put a large spoonful into his mouth as he mumbled, “Whipped cream?”
“Whipped
cream! What a great idea, Conner! Sure.” I took the can of whipped cream out of
the refrigerator and shook it. “Here’s what we’ll do: swallow that chocolate
spoonful, and then we put the Dilantin capsule on your tongue. You open wide,
I’ll squirt the whipped cream into your mouth and you swallow it right down.
Okay?”
A
broad grin appeared and he nodded.
“Open
wide.” I put the capsule on his tongue, tilted the can and depressed the
nozzle. A white mass hissed and billowed as it squirted into his mouth. His
cheeks puffed out. He swallowed.
“Open.”
I peered in. “It worked!” I looked at Sam. We all laughed.
“Hey,
can I try that?”
“Open
up, Daddy,” I said, as I squirted the whipped cream into his mouth.
Conner
squealed with laughter.
“That’s
a great technique, guys. Ice cream and whipped cream whenever you need it,
Conner.”
Conner
beamed. “Yeah, Daddy, that way I can eat the medicine.”
“Okay,
honey. You did great. Now, floss and brush and get into bed. Daddy will come up
to tuck you in after me. Let’s go.”
I
turned and glared at the glass in my husband’s hand. “Put
that away.” I mouthed the words and followed Conner upstairs.
Lance Fogan, M.D. is Clinical Professor of Neurology at the David
Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA. “DINGS” is his first novel. It is a
mother’s dramatic story that teaches
epilepsy, now available in eBook, audiobook and soft cover editions.
