We visited Max's neurologist today, a doctor who manages to be warm and straight-shooting at the same time. Early on in Max's life, these visits would fill me with dread, because I hated the part where the doctor would measure Max's head. Max has microcephaly (a too-tiny head) from the brain damage, and I didn't want to hear that his head was barely growing. I've gotten past that worry; Max's head is still small, but it's grown, and that mop of hair sure helps! Like this doctor has always said, head size and MRI photos don't tell you everything. We need to keep our eyes on what Max is doing.
Oh, and the EEG test for absence seizures? Negative. Max stares into space sometimes, period. It's not a medical problem, though I understand why the nurses at school were concerned—it's easy to think that Max's quirks are neurological issues. Take, for example, his recent obsession with the color purple. Yes, I asked his neuro about that.
At bedtime, Max points to the flowers on the plant in our bedroom.
He looooves Harold and The Purple Crayon and squeals when we're reading Dooby Dooby Moo and we get to the page with a purple barn.
He's constantly gesturing at our driveway and saying "Ur-ul!"
"Max, you want us to get a purple car?" I ask, and he says "YES!" And then a few minutes later, he gestures at the driveway again.
Sabrina, ever the wily four-year-old, is trying to use Max's purple obsession to her advantage. She wanted to watch Spongebob Squarepants the other day (tragically, she continues to like that show), but Max said no. "Max, Spongebob has purple in it!" she told him, but he was too smart to believe her.
Anyway, the neuro says that Max's conversations about purple are simply his way of communicating. He's pleased with himself that he can say purple, so he keeps saying it.
Like any other kid, Max has a favorite color. And it's purple.
In case you didn't know, voting for Best Blog (I'm a finalist!) is still open at The Bump, you just have to scroll down and leave a comment, in purple.
Photo by Jaime Walsh
