Let’s Talk About It

Let’s Talk About It

My son has Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome — CVS — That’s right. I said it. Vomiting. My son pukes on the regular.

I recently had a conversation with his school’s “Student Advocate” who definitely did everything she could to avoid saying the word.

Vomit. Puke. Upchuck. Throw Up. Retch. Blow Chunks. Barf. V-O-M-I-T.

I could go on.

But no one wants to hear that. I bet you already have a weird feeling in your own stomach just thinking about it and are contemplating clicking out of this story and moving on to something much more palatable, like a true crime podcast or a cooking show.

But this is our life. We can’t click away. We can’t leave it behind.

My son — Let’s call him Adam — has a chronic medical condition that no one wants to hear about; that everyone cringes when they hear about it; and they give you that involuntary grossed out face when you tell them that that is why he can’t come to the sleepover or go on the camping trip.

Adam has one of the more mild versions of CVS, in that his flair ups are few and relatively far between by CVS standards. He is not falling behind academically at all. In fact, he’s excelling. He’s a bright kid with a ton of friends and a wonderful and giving personality.

But…

The school district is numbers driven.

Let me be clear before I launch into this next part: I am not, in any way, dissing the school system. I understand that they have to do what they have to do and the data is important. So, don’t misunderstand my frustrations here. I get it. I understand.

But the “but” is still looming.

Despite Adam being a great kid who is doing very well academically, he is missing school. And he is missing more than the allotted amount. So, by their standards, he’s truant, he’s falling behind, he’s not meeting their standards.

But he is. And yet, he’s not.

There are all kinds of academic plans in place to help kids who are falling behind in reading, writing, math, et cetera. There are even plans in place to help children who need assistance socially.

But what if Adam checks all the boxes of a well-adjusted child who is performing at and above grade level, but just has to miss school a few times a month because he’s puking his guts out all morning?

The Student Advocate was stumped.

She advised me to normalize him coming to school after he’s ::clears throat:: done (pause) with his (pause) episode.

You mean after he’s finished puking for the day?

Let me ask you how you feel after you’ve puked for four hours straight? Are you ready to go to school and interact with your peers and play and participate in class? Or do you just want to take a nap and forget the past four hours ever happened?

I thought so…

But if he comes to school for even a couple hours at the end of the day, she can count that as a half day rather than a full absence.

Sigh…

Sure…

Now, what are we going to do about this realistically?

We have a note from the doctor.

But…

Yes, another but.

The district will no longer accept a “blanket doctor’s note.” They need a new note every time the student misses due to sickness.

HE’S NOT SICK

Sorry.

Let’s reason this out real quick.

He wakes up in the morning and starts puking. It’s completely unpredictable. We never know when it’ll hit.

Let’s say it happened this morning. How do you get a doctor’s note? The doctor has to see the patient to give the diagnosis to give the note.

So…

You want me to pile my son — my actively puking son — into the car with his puke bucket, have him sit in the office lobby with that puke bucket, see the doctor with that puke bucket…

Every

Single

Time

?

No.

I will not do that to him or to anyone.

Next suggestion.

Telehealth?

Sure.

Do you have $45 just laying around to spend on every single visit for them to tell you, yep… It’s a CVS flair up… here’s your note… where’s my check?

Gee thanks…

Again, no.

So, now what?

I don’t know.

Because the student advocate doesn’t even know.

This is fun.

Said no one ever.