Like many people, I love a good mystery. Whether it be an attention-grabbing yarn weaved by a talented storyteller or a well-crafted tale on the silver screen, mysteries often have many of the same, satisfying components. You have the hero / detective who is trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle to solve the crime. There is usually one main clue that breaks the case open and ties in all of the leads and brings into focus for the hero and the audience the answer to “whodunit”. And, almost always, there is a time when the story returns to “the scene of the crime”. I wouldn’t call any part of my personal life a mystery and there have definitely been no crimes committed but this coming weekend, I do consider myself returning to the “scene” that provided us the main clue in answering the question of what was bothering my son. I briefly touched on this “discovery” in my very first blog that I posted several months ago. My children are very lucky to have three great-grandparents still alive and thriving in their 90s. My wife’s grandparents, at 97 and 93, are still going strong and living independently in the same town that she grew up in. Not able to travel on their own, we make it a point to go and visit them every four to six months. It was during our visit last September that we had the night that I’ll always associate with turning point in our family’s and my son’s life.
Cam had been going through various bouts of stomach related problems for almost three months. We had visited his doctor several times over the summer and had a variety of tests completed with no definitive answers (no testing assigned was a blood marker test). We went to a specialist and was prescribed probiotics with a fill cost close to $500. We purchased a generic version which had limited success but we were never convinced as parents that a pill was going to be the answer to his problems (in hindsight, money well saved). We kept a limited food diary but our untrained eyes never discovered a pattern that pointed to gluten as the prime suspect. Every time that he had an episode, we were back to square one. So, with the mystery still unsolved , we ventured on our road trip.
On our journey, which I can now almost drive in my sleep, we have a designated stop at the halfway point. At this stop on this particular trip, Cam had a sausage biscuit for breakfast. Once we arrived in town, we stopped and picked up lunch before checking into our hotel. For lunch, Cam had a chicken sandwich. Dinner that evening consisted of three more types of bread. As many of you know, as a parent you have an instinct that kicks in when there is something wrong with your child. When our kids were babies, I was the one who would hear them wake up in the middle of the night. It could have been just a whimper but something in my head constantly kept me in tune with their needs. So, on that night in the hotel room when I woke up at 4:00 in the morning, I knew something was wrong. The light was on in the bathroom so I got up and lightly knocked on the door. When I saw Cam’s face, I knew he was hurting. He filled me in on how he felt and what had occurred before I woke up (I guess my instincts aren’t as sharp as they were when he was younger). I had him try to rest with my wife and I in our bed but laying down only made his pains worse. After a ten minute attempt at distraction, it was back to the bathroom. The next 30 minutes of sitting on the cold floor were not for the faint of stomach but through tears, hand-holding and support, the pain passed and he practically collapsed in his bed from exhaustion for the rest of the night.
That evening, I promised Cam that I would make his “nightmare” stop but looking back on it now, I realize that I was clueless as to how to make that happen. The next day, thinking that bread had something to do with his issues, I still allowed him to have half of a sandwich bun for lunch. I actually thought that this would help. I had never heard of cross-contamination and had no idea how many food products were causing my son’s body to attack itself. How quickly things have changed. We approach this trip to visit Cam’s great-grandparents with an entirely new perspective. Six months of immersing ourselves into the world of Celiac disease and gluten-free options, we feel we are ready as we can be. We know the extensive efforts that need to be taken with his foods and have pre-planned an entire, long weekend’s worth of menus, snacks and drinks. We return with our own silverware and plates to avoid possible residue contamination. We have looked up restaurant options and have back-up itineraries just in case his needs can’t be met. We have even been bold enough to book our room at the same hotel; the scene of the “crime” and a memory that will not go away any time soon. Admittedly, Cam is a little nervous, and rightfully so. But, if anything does happen, he knows that six months has provided us with more than enough experience to solve any mysteries that come our way.