Today We're Going to Talk About Gross Medical Stuff

After three weeks of on-again-off-again high fevers, achey-ness, headaches, and other fun, Adelaide is finally feeling better.

The fact that it took me three weeks to take her the doctor's office should probably cause me more mother-guilt, but the fact is, it takes a whole heck of a lot more to induce said mother-guilt than it did just two short years ago.  Whether this is because I've realized the best mothers I know also screw up constantly or because I've just become astonishingly good at shrugging my shoulders, I don't know.  What I do know is that when I realized Adelaide had been sick for three full weeks, I decided that, sure, I guess, I can take our only daughter in to the see a medical professional.  You know, for a lark.


The diagnosis was one bacterial infection that piggy-backed on top of the initial virus.  Antibiotic prescribed, prescription filled and picked up (say it with me, now:  $4 Rx's are the BEST), and 48 hours later, our daughter stopped her near constant litany of tears and moaning and I don't FEEL well's (what's that, you say?  Sounds like I should have taken her in earlier?  Please see the above paragraph and go ahead and imagine me shrugging my shoulders.  Also building character in our offspring and stuff), is back to constant chatter and charming interrogations.

One of the (many) reasons I didn't take her to the doc sooner is that, see, we were just there a couple weeks ago.  No, it wasn't for Adelaide, and no, it wasn't because someone was sick, but really, I had just been there.  No need to go back for quite some time.  (Please don't try to make sense of this.  There is none to be made.)  That initial trip was because Caedmon had gotten another giant splinter in the sole of his foot, and because this time he was gracious enough to do it on a weekday during our doctor's office's normal operating hours, I was able to take him in to have a medical professional perform the extraction, rather than me rooting around in his skin for an hour and a half while Derek held him down.  This way was much better, as it only took ten sweaty minutes of flesh-digging by the PA while the nurse held his leg and I held the rest of him (don't kid yourself, 4-year-olds are strong).  (Also, sorry to Derek's mom for the words "flesh-digging," I can just see her blanching now, as opposed to my mother, who is probably reading this going, "Mmm, flesh-digging, my favorite."  And now I've managed to further gross Becky out by typing "flesh-digging" four times and made my very nice, excellent nurse-mother sound like Nurse Ratched does Night of the Living Dead.  That one's my bad.)

(Oh, but a quick aside to Becky and anyone else squeamish who might ever be tempted to randomly scroll through the photos on my mom's phone or camera, hoping for cute grandchild photos:  Just Say No.  Well, unless you have a jonesing for pus and boils and inflamed skin and other head-scratchers more suited for a Victorian Oddities Museum.  Or if you're one of those people who continues to harbor the notion that school nurses sit in their offices reading books until some poor poppet stops by with an owie.  Then BY ALL MEANS, look at her phone.  Also ask her for the story about that time a kid sliced their finger off in a locker.  It's a doozy.)


Aaaanyway.  We're all more or less healthy now, although both the boys are now overdue for their yearly check-ups.  Whatever, shrugging my shoulders, I'll get to it when I get to it.  Probably.

 

But The Page Was Torn Out

Yesterday morning, I called Derek at work and told him I was thinking about canceling the doctor's appointment I had just scheduled the day before.  His objection to this was a little more... let's say forceful than I had been expecting.

I've been feeling rather poorly for close to a couple weeks now, but, while what I recently mentioned is true, that I do enjoy medical establishments in general, I simultaneously tend to believe that there is generally little that doctors can do to help me.  (This fun little mental conflict is quite indicative of how I view life in general, fyi.)  It felt silly to make the appointment in the first place, as I was certain that I would go, my doctor would check me over, pronounce that "Yep- you have the common cold.  Drink lots of fluids and get plenty of rest," and I already know all that, so what's the point of going, again?

Still, there was a smallish chance her years of medical training would enable her to tell her more than I could tell myself (this little brand of hubris is a specialty of mine, frequently warring with my acknowledgement of how often I let completely insane paranoia dictate pieces of my life- see previous paragraph's parenthetical statement), so I made the appointment, made the suggestion to cancel less than 24 hours later, this was brutally rebuffed by husband, admitted defeat, gathered the chilluns (it's spring break, so I got to bring all three offspring with me, making my appointment a spectator sport), and went to the doctor.

She checked me over.  She said I have a nasty cold.  She told me to drink lots of water.  She told me to get plenty of rest.

Then she said that's not pinkeye, it's actually extra juice seeping up out of my eye from the raging infection in my sinus.  (WHO'S HUNGRY?)

Antibiotics were prescribed.  I took my first dose around noon yesterday.  By evening, I still had a cold, but I felt like a member of the human race with a cold.

Have you ever read The Phantom Tollbooth?  (If you haven't, you should.  Like, right now.  It's available at any library or bookstore worth patronizing.  Seriously, don't even finish this post, just go read the book.  It's short, and although written for a younger crowd will teach you delightful things about imagination and dodecahedrons and all manner of really important things.  Go.  This post will wait.)

Now that we're all back and have surely read it, you will know exactly what I mean when I say that it wasn't until last night, feeling more or less human again, that I realized this (miraculously undiagnosed by non-medical school-attending me) infection had turned me into a Lethargarian, a creature who, as we now all know, is a resident of the Doldrums.  In the past, I've always identified Juster's Doldrums as an extremely apt illustration for depression, and while I still do, I'm also able to identify it as the place I've been living the past couple weeks, courtesy of this little illness.

During my recent stint as a Lethargarian, I assumed it was only thinly affecting the people around me.  (Except, of course, for Caedmon's Daily Cry because I couldn't read to him, first because my throat hurt too badly, then because laryngitis robbed me of my voice completely.)  When Derek arrived home last night to find his wife returned to a creature that is able to perform higher brain functions and actually does have a personality, however, he made a charming comparison between Sick Me and Eeyore.  I don't recall ever thanking anyone for noticin' me, but perhaps he does have a point.  HEY.  Eeyore makes a pretty perfect resident of the Doldrums, although a quick peek in my copy of Tollbooth doesn't reveal any sweet pink ribbons tied to the tails of the Lethargarians.  Maybe they're distant cousins.  What a family reunion that would be!

I really don't remember where I was going with all this (much like Milo, a reference which I trust each and every one of you understands now)- we'll blame it on my rusty brain, which is just getting warmed back up after its sick leave, never mind the fact that this is how pretty much every one of my posts go.  Let's wrap it all up with a quote from the book we've collectively enjoyed:

Riding along on the back of anyone who'd carry him was the Threadbare Excuse, a small, pathetic figure whose clothes were worn and tattered and who mumbled the same things again and again, in a low but piercing voice:  "Well, I've been sick-but the page was torn out- I missed the bus- but no one else did it- well, I've been sick- but the page was torn out- I missed the bus- but no one else did it."  He looked quite harmless and friendly but, once he grabbed on, he almost never let go. (p 239)

Have any of you ever known anyone ridden by the Threadbare Excuse?  Perhaps you yourselves, occasionally?  Obviously, I never have!  (Oh, THE IRONY; see every single line of this post.  "Well, I've been sick...")

Currently Loving Vs Not So Much

We haven't had a list on here in at least a week or five days or something, right?  Let's correct that.


My Current Favorite Things:

• Kale.  There's a local restaurant that has a salad on its menu right now that consists of kale, feta cheese, apple slivers, dried cranberries, candied pecan bits, and grilled chicken, and it is so. freaking. good.  I've managed to re-create it at home, but because I'm lazy and don't want to spend time doing things like actually cooking chicken or candying nuts or slicing granny smith apples into matchsticks I've discovered that if you just get a little bit of kale, a little feta cheese, and a cranberry on each forkful you have the perfect combination of sweet, salty, and fresh.  I'm not always so great at eating my veggies, so this is a good thing for me.  Anyone know anything about growing kale?  I'd like to put it in our garden this year if at all possible.  

• Adelaide's eyes.  She's had sporadic headaches recently and has been complaining of some blurry vision; I was all set to ignore her anyway until she pointedly asked me to make her an appointment with the eye doctor.  We went this morning, and her vision is fine (Hallelujah!).  I asked the doc if, given Derek's astigmatism and having to get glasses in kindergarten and my extreme myopia and having to get glasses in third grade, we should really be on the lookout for vision problems in the near future, and he said that you just never really know- some kids have parents with perfect sight but have terrible vision themselves, and vice versa.  Here's hoping for some super-strong recessive genes from our kids' glasses-free grandparents and a mini-miracle (I'm looking at you, God)!

• I get to see my sisters and their families in three weeks.  This is a good thing.

• I found a cache of winter clothing that I bought for Adelaide at a garage sale over the summer hiding in the back of the closet.  They still have their $1 and $.50 stickers on them- I don't know who was more excited, Adelaide or me.  She randomly has a whole new wardrobe.  I'm still waiting for this to happen to me.  

• Our boys.  Specifically, our boys and food.  Yesterday I opened a drawer to get a pen and piece of paper and instead found a three-day-old, half-eaten slice of pizza resting atop the paper clips.  I took it out and was getting ready to throw it away when an indignant Caedmon spotted me and cried, "HEY!  Dat's my snack!  Don't frow away my snack!"  This morning, the boys and I were upstairs playing (because it's much warmer upstairs than down), when Atticus disappeared for five minutes.  When he came back up, he was chewing something.  We don't really snack much and I like to monitor what the boys eat between meals, so I was a little surprised and asked him what he was eating and why.  His response:  "I just had to go downstairs and get a spoon and eat some peanut butter because my stomach was so hungry it was about to eat the rest of my body." 

• You guys.  Adelaide had been begging to write a blog post for a couple weeks, and when I finally caved, she did nearly all of it herself:  She took the photos, I uploaded them and showed her how to put them on the blog, then showed her where to type and which buttons to click to publish, then held myself back from correcting every little thing.  Then you guys came along and commented and commented on her post, and she was absolutely thrilled.  You all are the nicest people ever.  Ever.  

• Books.  Because, well, they're books, but also because it's so unbearably cold outside, and is there anything better than curling up with a book and rejoicing in the fact that we live in the age of central heating?  

Tomorrow:  My Not-So-Favorite Things Right Now.  Good luck getting to sleep tonight with that on your mind.

Nurses and Their Noodles

Atticus and Caedmon had their yearly doctor's appointments this morning.


I always have a bit of an internal struggle over whether to schedule their appointments together, getting it all over with in one stressful visit, or making two separate but slightly less harrowing visits.

I usually go the rip-the-bandaid-off route and bring them in together.  Like this morning.

Atticus actually did really well, cooperating with the nurse and doctor and laughing at the silly things they did to make him feel more comfortable.

Caedmon, on the other hand, has evidently entered a let's-cling-to-mommy-and-cry-'til-everyone's-eardrums-burst stage.  We haven't had to deal with much separation anxiety with him; even at church when we drop him off in the younger two-year-olds' classroom and half its occupants are crying, he walks away from us without a backwards glance.

He didn't want to be weighed, he didn't want them to check his height or head circumference, he didn't want them looking in his ears, and he definitely didn't want them to place a stethoscope anywhere near his body.

I learned that Caedmon is surprisingly strong this morning.


We did experience a couple small hiccups in Atticus's half of the appointment; when the doctor was talking to him, one of his questions was, "And do you always wear your seatbelt when you're in the car?"

Atticus either wasn't paying attention or was engaging in wishful thinking or was just blatantly lying and replied, "No."

The doctor laughed it off and did kind of a "Hahaha, kids say crazy stuff, hahaha."

And I said, "Hahaha, we always wear our seatbelts, hahaha, no but seriously, I'm not a terrible mother, hahaha."

Which I thought resolved that little situation, until the doctor was about to leave, seemed to remember something at the last minute, turned back to us, and gave me a little lecture on child safety, paying particular attention to the importance of child safety belts in moving vehicles.

I reiterated the bit about how we always wear our seatbelts, he probably still didn't believe me, and left.


The second hiccup involved the shots Atticus had to get- one in each thigh.  He obviously had no idea what was coming, lying patiently and peacefully on the bed, perhaps wondering why I was lying across his torso, until he felt the "little pokes" (Why do nurses say that, Mom?  Those "small pinches" and "small pokes" are never nearly as benign as you people make them sound- is it because nurses can't generate any sympathy for someone unless they're dying or have lost a limb?), started screaming, yelled, "THAT WASN'T VERY NICE!" at the nurses as they left the room, but then calmed down pretty quickly after that.

I really thought we were home free as we were walking out of the office, but it seems Atticus was still nursing (har har) a bit of a grudge against the building's inhabitants; as we passed someone approaching the door, our son turned to the man, pointed back to the door, and warned him, "They're not very careful with their noodles in there."

This man was apparently used to receiving cryptic messages from preschoolers, because he just smiled and said, "Okay, thanks."

Satisfied that he had done his job, Atticus continued toward the van, while I hurried Caedmon along and resisted the urge to clarify that noodles = needles to the innocent bystander.  No need to scare anyone.






And now for family who's interested in this kind of thing (also for future me who will probably end up losing those treasured baby books someday):

Atticus: (4 years, one month)

Height:  44 inches (99th percentile)
Weight:  43.2 lbs (90th percentile)

Atticus has grown 4 inches (what is up with these Crisler genes?) over the past year and gained 4 pounds.




Caedmon:  (2 years, two months)

Height: 36 inches (81st percentile)
Weight:  33.4 lbs (90th percentile)

Caedmon has grown 6 1/2 inches (HOLY COW) over the past year and gained 11.2 pounds (which makes me laugh, because that boy is solid).