Diagnosis: Turkey

Howdy, friends.

We met with our neurologist today. He looked at the video of Jack. He had us email it to him (I love you, iPhone). He gave us information on seizures. He sent us to the hospital for an EEG.

He thought, yes, that totally looks like seizures.

At the hospital, Jack had to blow a pinwheel to induce hyperventilation and, I guess, seizures. He did his weird staring thing a bunch. He looked like this:

I told him he looked like an aviator in the Pride parade. My comment was lost on him.

Then the techs — who were SUPER awesome with Jack and us — said the neurologist wanted to talk. Turns out … Nothing is wrong.

Jack didn’t show any seizure activity. He just doesn’t always feel like paying attention.

Ah, the diagnosis no one wants to hear: You are boring. You are so boring, your son will not listen. OK, I’m making light of it all (I won’t be laughing so hard when my cajillion dollar bill rolls in).

But my god, all this time and worry and complete and total freakout, just to discover that Jack has begun his teenage years of saying “Whatever” already.

We still will follow up with the Asperger’s screening — since blank stares are a characteristic of that, too. And maybe he has some kind of attention thing going on.

But for now, the biggest thing is, he’s just Jack. My perfect, spacey, nutjob Jack.

We’ll tackle the fine and gross motor with some gymnastics classes this summer and lots of crafts.

The rest of it? We’ll figure that out as we go along.

Happy running.

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