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Thursday, June 18, 2015

Autism and Appendicitis Pain - A Scary Combination

Almost everyone with a child with autism has noted that they express pain differently than other kids.  This might seem like an odd little quirk, but the events of the last month have shown me it's far from that.  Janey's reaction to the pain of appendicitis almost certainly contributed to her appendix rupturing, and her post-surgical pain reactions quite likely make the complications she experienced harder to treat.  If I can get one message across ever through this blog, this might be the one...DON'T ASSUME KIDS WITH AUTISM WILL SHOW PAIN IN A TYPICAL WAY!

I keep going back in my mind to the night we thought Janey was having a seizure and we called an ambulance.  Of course we don't know for sure, but Tony and I both now think that Janey's appendix burst that night.  She had a high fever, and we were taking turns checking on her all night.  When Tony checked on her in the wee hours of the morning, her arm was jerking over and over.  She was burning up with fever.  The EMTs quickly told us it wasn't a seizure when they arrived, and the ER staff felt the same way.  But it was something.  I think now it was a reaction to the terrible pain she must have felt as her appendix burst.

Neither Tony or I can remember for sure if the ER staff checked Janey's belly (I have learned "belly" is the technical terms for what we untechnically call "tummy") for pain.  Janey was not presenting like someone with appendicitis, and she wasn't being co-operative.  It took 6 people to get a throat culture on her.  The ER doctor assumed she had some kind of virus, and sent us home.  Her blood wasn't tested, but even if it had been, that might not have shed any light on things, as when it was tested the next night, her white count was normal.  The key here again was how she was showing pain.  If she had been screaming, or if she had been able to say "My tummy hurts!", I think some red flags would have gone up.

Even once Janey was admitted to the hospital, after we took her back the next night, she wasn't showing the pain you'd typically see in a child with an appendix that had already burst.  Tony and I could see she was far from herself.  The big thing we saw was that she wasn't moving.  She lay in the bed in a very, very fixed position.  I think moving was extremely painful for her, so she just didn't move.  I remember a group of doctors coming in and one of them shaking her bed a bit, and when she didn't react, saying something like "Well, she doesn't have peritonitis" (an inflammation of the wall of the abdomen) because she didn't react to the shaking.  She didn't react, I think, because she was determined not to move at all.  She had on her face what I call the stoic look.  It's a look I see a lot on her, a look where she seems to just be retreating into herself and doing everything not to let the outside world affect her.  It's not a look that betrays pain.
This is an example of how typical kids are asked to measure their pain.

Thankfully, so thankfully, the CAT scan done eventually on Janey showed her burst appendix clearly.  But her atypical reactions to pain were still an issue after the surgery.  At first, she was just given morphine around the clock, but the days went by, sometimes nurses would ask me "Do you think she's in pain?"  I knew we didn't want to give her too much morphine, that too much could slow her recovery.  But so often, I just didn't know, even myself, if she were in pain.  It was so hard to tell if she was crying because she hated the IVs, or was upset to be in the hospital in general, or if a video had scared was so tricky.  We could ask her "Do you have a hurty feeling?" and she would echo it back "Do you have a hurty feeling?"  If we asked her to point to the hurty feeling, I think she often took that as a cue she was supposed to point to SOMETHING, and sometimes it was her belly but other times the pointing just seemed random.  Thinking back, I wish I'd worried less about how much morphine was getting and erred more on the side of assuming she was in pain.  But I wish even more she could express the pain in a way that was easier to understand.

I am glad Janey and all of us have only one appendix.  I will not be faced with this particular situation again.  But speaking to all the families of an autistic child still possessing an appendix, my advice would be this----If there's a chance it's appendicitis, push for imaging to be done.  Ultrasounds didn't show the problem for Janey; she needed a CAT scan for that, but that might just be her.  Make sure the medical professionals know that how much pain your child seems to be in should NOT be used to rule out appendicitis!  This would also apply, I am sure, to any other potentially serious cause of pain.  I hope none of you ever have to use this knowledge.  Best of health to all of you.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Your story is a mirror of our story. Our daughter Ruby, who has been diagnosed high functioning autistic with anxiety, auditory and dyspraxic, had a ruptured appendix in 2015. If it hadn't been for a specialist just happen to have been walking through the A&E when we were there she would not have been admitted. After 2 days in the hospital puzzled doctors finally opened her up and found her burst appendix. Luckily her body had cocooned the rupture in fatty tissue so it had not spread.

Since then we have gone through 5 schools and 3 countries trying to find an environment that doesn't trigger her anxiety.

We are now in Canada finally moving slowly forward after 3 years in reverse.

I feel I understand your life pretty well.

Ed, Alana and Ruby