We are now 14 days past when Monkey first fell to the flu, and a week past Otto's fall (Chickadee fell inbetween the two of them). I'm officially calling this THE YEAR I AVOIDED GETTING THE FLU. Every day for the last two weeks I've woken up every morning and laid in bed, tensed with apprehension, doing a quick body inventory. Do I feel hot? Does my head hurt? Is that something weird? I've certainly not felt my very best the last couple of weeks, but other than feeling a little rundown (which, HEY, I'm sure that has nothing to do with recent events at all!), it appears my nefarious plan of...
So remember how I thought the pediatrician just thought I was angry and maybe a little crazy? And she was brushing me off? I take it back. The next day she called to say she'd personally gotten us in with the ENT. When? Oh, immediately! Could I just go over there NOW? (I was wearing my pajamas when she called. Also, Monkey was at school. But we made it, somehow.) The ENT said many interesting things, making noises with his mouth-hole that sounded like "here are the things that are clearly wrong which I can see even before we start testing further" and also "chronic infection that has...
I feel like I should have something useful to report. Like... Monkey is all better now! (He's not.) All of the doctors called back, with definitive answers! (They didn't.) The answer to life, the universe and everything is 42!! (It is, but I'm having difficult figuring out how to apply it.) In the meantime, inbetween phone calls to various doctors I am making soup and doing things like buying a coat for my dog. Yes. I've become the kind of person who says "buying a coat for my dog" and it actually MEANS I spent money on canine apparel. The end times are nigh. In my defense, this here is a...
Thursday 6:00 am: I wake Monkey up for school. 6:20 am: He still hasn't come downstairs, so I go looking for him. He is standing in the bathroom looking confused. He says, "I think my head hurts." I take his temperature; 102! Back to bed! The rest of the day: He sleeps on and off and generally lolls around. 6:00 pm: Monkey puts himself to bed. Friday 6:00 am: Monkey wakes up and announces he is all done sleeping and feels much better now! I take his temperature; 101! Not quite, bucko! 8:00 am: I call the pediatrician for an appointment. 8:15 am: I call the pediatric neurologist to remind...
The God's honest truth about Monkey's bizarre probably-a-seizure is that it was really scary and knocked us for a loop, but it's not the scariest part. If he had just had THAT, just that one incident which is already fading in our memories ("Do you remember exactly what he said?" Otto and I will ask each other, replaying the scene over and over again, grasping to remember exactly how it happened), which has not been repeated, we would be feeling better now because it hasn't happened again. And also because everyone is content to point at the Incident Where He Clearly Wasn't Himself and say...
Before jumping into today's extremely cheery subject matter (see Mir use sarcasm; snark, Mir, snark!), let's check in on the children's medical state, shall we? Chickadee confounded the doctor with... a whole lot of nothing. Except maybe she has a slight eye infection. Or maybe she has mono, but we'll have to wait and see. I mentioned that this was giving me deja vu, except last time it turned out to be severe anemia, which shouldn't be an issue now as she's on iron supplements. Regardless, we got some prescription eye drops and directions not to wear contact lenses for a week, and the...
I spoke too soon about the idyllic vacation week and uneventful return to school. Truthfully, my breath was held waiting to hear that Monkey celebrated his first day back by shattering into a million angry little pieces, but his day was perfectly fine. No, I answered the phone yesterday afternoon when the caller ID said it was the school system (all the schools come up the same), steeling myself for a Tale Of Monkey Woe, but instead a little voice said, "Hi. I'm miserable." "Chickadee? What's wrong??" "My throat hurts. And my head hurts. And I am miserable." In case you missed it, she was...
Remember when I was all "I'm going to the dentist to get my TMJ taken care of finally" and I knew it was going to be expensive but I was okay with that, mostly, because I'm in so much pain? I don't like surprises. So I went ahead and did my research before I went back, yesterday, so that I could maybe get over any sticker shock beforehand. According to what I'd read, I could expect to pay $400-$500 for the custom bite splint I expected they were going to recommend for me. Not chump change, to be sure, but I was steeled and ready. This is FOR MY HEALTH, I told myself, as I walked into the...
... guess I'll go eat... oh, geez. I can't even say it. Whenever one of the kids is having a "woe is me" moment, as befits my loving maternal style, I often suggest that the afflicted one go eat some worms, because that's what one does when life is so unfair and tragic, right? (Acceptable alternatives to suggesting a feast of slimy limbless creatures: Asking where the sad one lost their tail, or inquiring as to the tragedy of their lean-to blowing over.) As you might imagine, my ministrations are deeply appreciated by my offspring. FEEL THE LOVE! Obviously I am usually able to make...
