To be included in the annals of Duh:
When you go on a prescription medicine, read the ten page listing of side effects and pay attention lest some of them actually happen.
Over the past year, year and a half, Number One Son has gained a substantial amount of weight – at least 25 pounds. He’s also been testier than hell. This happened gradually and, though noticeable, not so much so that we questioned the changes. Around Christmas, however, Mark and I had a chat with him regarding his burgeoning Santa belly. Needless to say, though we tried to frame it in a, ha ha, this is funny isn’t it, kind of way, the discussion did not go over well.
I told you. He was grouchy as ass.
We had to ask questions about the amounts of food he might be ingesting while not at home or possibly hoarding and consuming late at night, because Aspies have a tendency to run on the Obsessive/Compulsive side of life and impulse control can be a problem. We talked about the dangers of belly rotundity – especially for him because of the prevalence of diabetes on his paternal (biological) side of the family. There were suggestions made about ways to incorporate more exercise into Bran’s day. He rides his bike everywhere for transportation, but, at that point, it didn’t seem to be making much of a difference. We discussed cutting down on sugary/caffeinated drinks and how to incorporate more water and healthful (but tasty) foods into his daily routine.
It wasn’t the worst time I’ve ever had.
I’d rank it up there with having that impacted wisdom tooth removed that time – except they gave me good drugs. I didn’t even get a beer this time.
You just don’t know stubborn unless you’ve dealt with someone with Asperger’s.
Have you ever seen one of those old westerns where someone is trying to get a mule off its ass by pulling on the reins and harness, but no matter how hard they pull the mule does – not – move?
With an Aspie it’s like pulling on 20 of those mules at the same time…with one hand…..that’s broken……….and in a cast.
By the time we were done talking with Brandon that day, I was sweating, had a headache and wanted nothing more than to take a couple Advil and hit the sack, but it was 9:00 a.m.
Mark just stared off into space and shook his head for so long I thought he’d developed a twitch.
In spite of his initial resistance, Bran made significant efforts to change his habits. Even he was becoming alarmed by his waistline and the extra chin he’d sprouted. We monitored the sodas and sweets and he tried to make sure he ate meals instead of potato chip and jelly sandwiches at midnight. He started walking the familial dog twice a week, continued to ride his bike and even upped the daily mileage.
It made very little difference.
In February, Bran’s new neurologist wanted to switch Bran’s seizure meds, (seizures can be another byproduct of Asperger’s). He went from Divalproax (generic form of Depakote) to Keppra. When we asked why, the doctor said that Divalproax can cause hair loss, weight gain and diabetes.
DingDingDing!!!
Yes, you’d think a bell would have gone off in my head – and it did – it was just the wrong one. I heard diabetes and had a little panic attack, thinking of the previously spoken of family history. The hair loss thing didn’t worry me at all. Bran could donate hair monthly and still have a full head. I had already decided from whence the weight gain came and it didn’t dawn on me to put it down to a little tiny pill Bran took a couple of times a day.
The transition to Keppra was done over a period of about 5 weeks and it went smoothly. I noticed that Bran was slimming down and congratulated him on his restraint. He shrugged.
“Not really doing anything different than what you and Dad drilled into my head at Christmas,” he said.
Well, glad I could be of service, son………
A couple of weeks ago, I walked by Bran as he was hiking up his pants.
“Stupid things won’t stay up anymore,” he said.
Hey…….. Now that he mentioned it, the jeans were hanging on his hips in a bit of a gangsta way. Bran does not do low slung. Back when son #2 was wearing his jeans around his knees, held up only by his boxers and the Grace of God, I begged Brandon to take about half a page from his brother’s book.
“Just let your pants sit on your hip bones,” I said. “That’s why God created them, so your jeans would have a place to rest.”
“It’s not comfortable,” he said.
“Well tell me how it’s comfortable having your pants cinched up under your arm pits.”
They weren’t, of course, up under his arm pits, but they were too high to be fashionable. It’s an argument Bran and I have been having since he was old enough to put his clothes on himself. When his sisters were old enough, they started arguing with him too.
“Come on Bran,” they’d beg. “Just wear what we tell you, how we tell you. You’re tall and skinny and stuff looks great on you. Then you hike it up. You look like Steve Erkel.”
Nothing we said ever convinced him to go all male model. I stood there looking at him this latest time and thought, crap, all I ever had to do was buy his pants a size too big. Then it hit me.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” I said.
“Yeah,” Bran said. “Just like the doctor said.”
“He told you you’d lose weight?”
“He thought I looked bloated and that the Divalproax was probably the reason.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“He told you.”
“When?”
“When he told me.”
Ding!
(Other bell)
Divalproax can cause weight gain! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!
Yes! Yes it can!
I was so excited to talk to Mark about my scientific discovery.
“Well, yeah,” he said, when I reported my findings. “He told me about that.”
“Who?”
“Bran.”
“When?”
“When the doctor switched him and I asked why.”
“Was I there?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Huh.”
“He’s easier to get along with too,” Mark went on.
“Who?”
“Our son.” He gave me a look. “Haven’t you noticed.”
“Well yeah, but I kind of put that down to the volunteer job and getting out of the house and walking Lily.”
“I’m sure that helps,” Mark said. “But Bran has been really, really cooperative and – and nice.”
He was right. Bran had been funny, pleasant – lighthearted even, of late. His AH moments (to give a clue, AH does not stand for, “ah ha.” Think about it) had been much fewer and way further between. It was almost creepy, how nice he’d been.
“Did the doctor say this would happen,” I asked – like I hadn’t been the one at the appointment. It wasn’t as if I’d remembered much to this point.
“No, but I looked it up on line.”
Of course he did.
“Turns out the stuff Bran was on before can cause moodiness, mood swings and just generally disagreeable behavior.”
This I should have known.
Years ago, when daughter #2 was about 10, she was having migraine headaches. The pediatrician started her on Depakote. About three days in, she went from sweet little girl to mini-bitch from hell’s bad side of town. In a panic, I stopped giving the meds (which I never should have done cold turkey), and within a couple of days she was back to normal.
I just never made the connection between that and the way Brandon behaved.
But I might have – had I what?
That’s right. Read the list of possible side effects enclosed with the Divalproax.
That piece of paper is not just a bag stuffer. It’s an important piece of medical information that we, as consumers, patients, parents and advocates need to take seriously.
itsallinadaysinsanity 