Next up, a Tribal Healer

Bode hasn't been able to breathe in, oh, about five years now.  He takes 15 different medicines for this problem so you would think we would have a handle on it by now.  But, nope, he still can't breathe and still ends up on antibiotics and steroids and breathing treatments and steam baths and humidifiers and controllers and new controllers and even newer better controllers every other day. 

Still.  Can't.  Breathe. 

So like any mother I decided to take matters into my own uneducated, uninformed, not really up on the latest research and reacting mostly out of unresolved mommy-guilt hands.

So off to the chiropractor we went.  And we continue to go every Wednesday.

Do I have a clue what they are doing?  No.  Does it work?  Who knows.  Does it make him feel better?  Again, who knows.  But does it make me feel better?  Yes, and that's kind of the point.

I can't continue to go on this way.  Always having the kid that sneezes and sends snot flying into the next county while all the other children and mothers shriek in horror.  Having his teachers give me that "are you sure he should be at school" look every day.

We also have an appointment with an herbologist (I think that's what she's called).  And if that doesn't work I'm going to start praying to some weird looking statues.

Go ahead and judge me.  I can't be stopped.