Don't I look calm? Serene? Nary a care in the world? It's the drugs. Just an update on yesterday's post, because I know you all care VERY DEEPLY: Our missing fence section never showed up, yesterday. Around 4:00 Otto called the fence company to say YES HI I AM WONDERING IF YOU EVER DO WHAT YOU'LL SAY YOU'LL DO and was told that our crew was on another job and then the equipment broke and they were delayed and blah blah blah FIRST THING IN THE MORNING, WE PROMISE. First thing this morning the foreman of a THIRD crew (just in case you're keeping count) showed up, and proceeded to sit in my...
When I last left my dentist's office, it was in a state of semi-hysteria over having just been informed that I needed a $2,000 bite splint that my insurance (you know, that thing you pay for the pleasure of being told everything is ineligible for coverage?) wouldn't pay even a little bit towards. I came home and had a small tantrum and then vowed to cure myself of TMJ the old-fashioned way---I would simply will it to improve. It actually worked, if by "it" you mean "that whole 'willing' thing, plus changing my diet some and doing nighttime relaxation exercises." I went from being unable to...
Yesterday was a no good, terrible, horrible, very bad day, and every time I think about it I get mad all over again. It was the sort of thing where I couldn't help just stepping outside of myself, mentally, even WHILE it was happening, and thinking, "If I wrote this up as a fiction story people would be all, 'Yeah, it's just not believable, I'm sorry.'" Like that. So I am too lazy to find the old posts and link back, but for anyone who's new 'round these parts, my darling daughter has some sort of chronic skin condition that she developed when we moved to Georgia which has been steadily...
It's true that our "kingdom" at present doesn't amount to much, and as many odd things as I've encountered thus far, I really haven't gotten the impression from anyone involved that the offer of a deck badly in need of refinishing or a falling-down fence or even the pond full of peep-peep-peeping frogs would significantly improve our odds of being helped, but whatever we do have, I would happily offer it in exchange for the ability to: 1) Locate an appropriate child psychologist, 2) discover said professional takes our insurance, 3) admire said professional's extensive experience in dealing...
Things have been going along pretty well, post-Monkey-carving. Some might even say TOO well. (Please cue up the foreboding music of your choice right here. I'll wait.) Despite my fears that post-surgical Monkey would be a giant ball of pain and anguish and HULK ANGRY HULK SMASH misguided energy, for the most part, post-surgical Monkey has been calm and agreeable and positively robot-like in his apparent inability to recognize that he might be in any pain at all, most of the time. In fact, I was just reading Jean's post about Jack's recent dental work and laughing that slightly hysterical "Oh...
Monkey's recovery continues apace. Yesterday was briefly a bit rough---he woke up in pain, pain bad enough for him to recognize---but with enough drugs TLC we were able to smooth things out and have a pretty uneventful day. By bedtime he was looking kind of ragged again, though, and as I gave him his last dose of pain meds I said, "How ya doing, buddy?" and he crawled into bed saying, "Not so good, actually." So either I've already made him into a full-fledged drug addict who doesn't deal well with the monkey on his back (ha! a monkey on Monkey's back!), or it turns out that having a bunch...
The surgery was quick and his initial confusion and anger afterward was mercifully short-lived. He's talking, drinking, and absolutely loving that he can play as much Nintendo as he wants. (Puppy says he just LOVES Pokemon Ranger, and also that tonsils and adenoids and tubes are stupid. Now get him some more apple juice!) We'll go home in a few hours. I already feel better.
You may have noticed things are a bit... sparse... around here, lately. Ahem. There's only so many times and so many ways I can write "My child has LOST HIS FOOL MIND and life is WEARING ME DOWN" before I just back away from the computer and curl up in the corner for a while. There have been good days and bad days. Rather than building up a thicker skin and greater patience, I find that my ability to deal gracefully with Monkey's rough periods is eroding. This has been dragging on for months, now, and my reaction when he's busy morphing into Angry Delusional Hulkboy starts with about a...
Me, upon hearing that we are finally going to DO SOMETHING to rid Monkey of this insidious plague of yuck: Oh, THANK GOD. Monkey, upon hearing that he will be relieved of a few extra parts: Great, why don't you just remove ALL of my organs! Apparently you think I'm not USING THEM or anything! (Yes, Monkey is furious with me. I can live with that.) (Friday. Life begins again on Friday, I hope.)
