Life has been insane busy

I'm too tired to say much now. These past 30 days or so have been a blur.

After the kids got over their illnesses, I got sick. The bug liked sinuses.

I got better, then started tunic production. Oldest had to pin a hem, which just about killed her.

I packed way too much food for the event. We went to the event. We were rained on the entire time. We opted to not sleep on site and instead went to a lovely, DRY hotel.

The event was awesome.

I finally have most things put back in order. We finished panelling the storage shed, so many of the fabric tubs got moved outside. As a result, there is space in the living room.

Easter was a blur. Spring Break is not off to a good start. My internet provided has decided I am a spammer and I have a migraine. I'll try again tomorrow to hit the road.

And How Has YOUR Week Been?

Starting with last Friday...

All last week I was busy with The Red Door Sale at church. On Friday, Oldest woke up and informed me, between coughs, that her throat hurt. I took her to the doctor instead of heading to church. She was poked for blood, then X-rayed head and chest. Some where in there a rapid strep test was done. I passed the baton to Hubby and he took over. I went on to church and they visited the pharmacy to get antibiotics for her sinus infection.

Saturday, Hubby had a meeting. I had three children with me at The Red Door Sale. The Boy Child took offense at one of the workers helping himself to one of the doughnuts I had purchased on the way. "Don't eat Mommy's doughnuts!!!" The old guy was startled.

"No, son, Mr. Marvin is allowed to have a doughnut. That's why I bought TWO DOZEN." I refused to allow the doughnuts to be sold as part of the bake sale, instead pointing out their existance to our workers. Marvin's wife said that she wasn't surprised that he had jumped on the doughnut. She "never buys them". I'm glad Marvin didn't let TBC chase him away. Marvin deserved that doughnut.

Want to see funny? Watch three old ladies try to teach my son the finer points of negotiation ACROSS THE ROOM... at full volume. "TELL HER YOU'RE ONLY GOING TO PAY 50 CENTS FOR THAT PUZZLE!!!" "TELL HER THAT ORCA IS ONLY WORTH 25 CENTS." Once our cashiers realized what was going on, the negotiations went much smoother.

We all came home and collapsed. I was still barely able to move on Sunday. I slept half the day, plagued by migraines.

Monday dawned and The Boy Child had an attitude. I was ready to tear his little butt up and send him to school when he stood his ground and said, "Mommy, I'm telling you I just don't feel good enough to go to school." This was different than "don't WANT to go". I touched him and he was feverish.

Lovely.

Middlest had missed the bus. We all boarded Mhyrk and dropped her at school. I made an appointment for The Boy Child. The deposit and report for The Red Door Sale got done. We arrived at the doctor's office and I informed Oldest she was going back to the exam room so the doctor could see that she wasn't better yet.

Well... The doc said that TBC only had a virus, no need for antibiotics. Due to a mix up in the back, Oldest had two rapid strep tests. TBC had one rapid strep test. Neither had strep. Yippee. Oldest was written a note for the entire week, so she would have plenty of time to get better. This made her third trip to see Dr. T in three weeks. He wanted her completely well before going back to school. I was told to keep the boy home until his fever was completely gone. Lots of Robitussin CF and fever reducers were called for.

We have mostly stuck to the house all week. Sometime on Tuesday, TBC started complaining that his right ear hurt when I tried to take his temperature in the ear. You could tell just by looking at him that he did not feel good at all. On Wednesday evening, I noticed the mucus in his left eye. Then he barfed on me. And the sofa. It was a special shade of green. Blue Slurpee will do that. Especially when mixed in the tummy with Yellow Slurpee.

More lovely.

OK, Thursday: We got to the doctor's office at just after nine. My child is talented. If it is above his neck, it's infected.

Double ear infection. Check.

Sinus infection. Check.

Double ocular infection (both eyes filled with mucus). Check. This is not necessarily "pink eye", but I have to keep my hands washed as if it is.

We have the Pink Medicine (Yay!*) and eye drops.

*We loves the Pink Medicine. Long story, involving a pink balloon and TBC.

At this point I've finally convinced him that I'm not poking his eye out with a cotton swab. He sits still and I nab the yucky green lumps out the corner of his eyes. Even his tears are tinted green.

Is it time for that stiff drink yet? Please?

Face Plant, Dude!

No sooner than I got the young ones on the bus, an idiot ran the bus stop sign. All the bus driver could do was blow the horn. I guess it's time for me to start body blocking the road again... with camera in hand. Yeah, idiot, I'll be HAPPY to take your ass to court for endangering my children.

I fumed the whole way back inside the house, then started reading emails. I had things I needed to do, but email reading was on the To Do List. Then my cell phone rang.

"Hi, this is the school nurse. Your son tripped as he was exitting the bus. He's got a pretty messy bloody nose but I don't think it's broken..."

These days the school nurses are really limited in the care they can render. The nurse could not appy Afrin Nose Spray (to stop the bleeding), but I could. "Do you have pertroleum jelly?" I asked. I grabbed The Boy Child a clean jacket and pair of pants. He took off his outer shirt while I was on the phone with the nurse, so I assumed there was no blood on the guitar T-shirt. I was wrong.

I remained calm but hurried. I zipped past the assistant principal who was doing hall duty. When I walked into the clinic, the first thing I noticed was the blood on the wall. "Is that from you?" I asked.

The nurse rolled her eyes and affirmed that it was indeed his blood. "I'm waiting until he leaves for class to clean up." Apparently while the nose was actively bleeding, TBC was getting blood everywhere. Upon closer inspection, it looked like he tried to put his bookbag and coat on the table. The coat was covered in bloody streaks. All in all it looked like several large drops of blood were smeared down the left side of the jacket. When the jacket contacted the wall, blood was transferred. The wall looked worse than TBC at this point.

Afrin was squirted up his nose. Then pertroleum jelly was applied to a long-handled cotton swab. The nurse was amazed that I got the jelly up the nostril with minimal fuss. "This is exactly what I do when Oldest has a nose bleed," I told her and reminded him. I asked for a baby wipe to clean his face and hands. Then I made sure that it was all right to drop the blood contaminated tissues and wipes into the regular trash can.

We sent him off to class. I told the nurse that I had a doctor's appointment "at a new office that I have never been to before. I need to leave early. Call me if his nose starts to bleed." I left the school and attempted to call Hubby's cell phone. (Calls between us are free.) No luck. I left a quick voice mail on his regular office phone when I got back into the house. "If I'm already in the Other Town at my appointment and his nose starts to bleed again, you're going to have to handle it."

A couple of hours later I noticed the blood on my tan pants. When I picked up his jacket and outer shirt to bring them home, the not yet dried blood transferred over. Good thing I saw that prior to my appointment. I changed clothes and started the washing machine.

About 30 minutes prior to my launch time, Hubby called. "Whatcha doing? What are you having for lunch? What..."

"Where are you?" I interrupted.

"The Freeway. About to turn onto our street. I haven't had lunch..." Hubby had come home to be in a better position to handle the nose issue. Good Daddy points for him today.

I went to my appointment and discussed chemicals and surgery, always fun topics. When I finished, I called Hubby from the parking lot. He was amazed I was done already. "Well, I didn't even take my clothes off today. Talking doesn't take long."

I was on Major Highway when the cell phone rang with the school audio. As I flipped it open I was relieved to see it was the High School. "Mom, blah blah blah, missed bus, blah blah blah, come get me..." I could make out less than half of what Oldest was saying.

"Call your father," I interrupted. I went for loud and distinct as well as no room for argument. "He's at home. I'm on Major Highway. Call him at home. Love. You. Good. Bye." I flipped the phone shut.

All the drama averted, I made a bank deposit run and called home again. "Is Oldest home yet? Good. I'm going to the grocery store." Dinner purchased, I headed home. apparently the younger children had literally just walked in the door ahead of me.

"I got a Green Face today," TBC proudly informed me. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. It took a face plant and nose bleed to knock the meanness out of him so he'd be good today.

Things that make you go...

Not "Hmmm" this time. This time it's something that made me cry my eyes out. I was driving to the store when this song came on the radio. I was holding it together until Sting got to the Sun setting. You know, time running out and all that.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UppX6vP3c4g

Here's the lyrics:

Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
Well forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
Well walk in the fields of gold
Well walk in the fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold

I said to myself, "I SERIOUSLY need to get out the house more often."

Uncle John

For those that knew him or remember seeing him at events...

Uncle John died today. It's too early to know an exact cause, but his heart looks to have been the problem. His oldest brother and his mother were present when his heart stopped.

Uncle John had been at the VA hospital for a few days, after some complication following gastro-intestinal procedure on last Wednesday. The doctors had become concerned about John's heart and were monitoring him. Uncle Billy and Grandma had finished lunch and decided to drop in to visit Uncle John.

If anyone local to him needs to know funeral arrangements, email me. I will not publish such details. After Granny's funeral someone attempted to burgle the dead lady's house. Far too much of that goes on these days. Jerks. Just email me.

Alive and Itchy

Actually, I'm much better now. I should be considering it has been two freaking weeks since I did battle with the ivy.

The ivy won, in case you were wondering.

Black Friday while everyone else was out shopping, I stayed home and did yard work. I had both girls fetching and carrying garbage bags. I can get SO much more accomplished if I don't have to break stride to carry bags to the curb. I had on long sleeves and gloves. I only handled the vines with the gloved hands.

I still got poison ivy. Or oak. Whatever.

The retired pediatrician says Viriginia Creeper looks a whole bunch like one of the ivys. That's got to be the case, as I only saw Virginia Creeper and English Ivy.

I stripped off my work clothes by the washer and walked upstairs to wait for The Boy Child to get out the tub. (He had been in charge of Earthworm Relocation... and played more than worked, as goes his usual help with yard work.) I was standing with my hands on my hips, contemplating Life In General, when it occurred to me that I had not scrubbed up with Dawn dish detergent yet. (Side note: my hips are one of the places I DO NOT have ivy rash. Go figure.) I hopped in the shower and scrubbed all body parts several times. I noticed a bug bite on my right calf.

For about one day I was fine. Then all hell broke loose. As usual, I had managed to get scraped in two places by the ivy on one arm. The scrapes began to get histamine bumps around them. A rash appeared on my left shin. Apparently I scratched the bug bite in my sleep. The bug bite area started looking like poison ivy rash. After that I dressed up to go to bed so I wouldn't spread it any further. I was a mess. Long pajamas, gauze, and various creams were my nightly routine.

I gave it a week to get better, then dragged myself in to see a doctor. I wore shorts and a short-sleeve shirt (under my regular clothes) to show off my boo-boos better without needing to undress. It was still dang cold in the exam room. The doc prescribed prednisone and sulfur-drug antibiotics. The spot on my leg (the original bug bite) continued to get worse. I began to wonder if some bad spider had gotten me.

Finally, Hubby (My Hero!) handed me the cream he had been prescribed for ivy rash. In one night my leg went from bright, angry red to a healing pink.

My arms still itch. It was too hot yesterday to be wearing long-sleeves, but I did anyway. Applying that cream to my arms seems to have helped them a bit, too. But I still itch.

I'm tired of itching.

Just makes me want to hear more

So I'm reading my regular blogs and I get to AD's:

http://ambulancedriverfiles.blogspot.com/2008/10/emstock-after-action-report.html

Quoth AD, "As Mr. Fixit put it, you know that any EMS war story that begins with, 'So we pick up one of the local transvestites...' has got to be good."

Heh. I have next to zero interest in emergency medicine, but I would love to hear the rest.

Should I Buy a Raffle Ticket?

http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2008/08/01/breast-cancer-charity-gun/

Not that I NEED it or anything.

It Made Me Smile... maybe due to shopping related

http://punditkitchen.com/2008/08/02/political-pictures-plane-crash-buy-own-gas/

I guess I'm still a little warped from being sick this week... or am I just like this normally?

I'm actually MUCH better now. This morning we even went to the lodge to help clean up. Man, was it HUMID out this morning! And nary a cloud in the sky. The sweat just poured off me.

The chillinz and I returned home and got bathed. The Boy Child: "I don't want to take a bath"... as I'm putting shampoo in his hair.

Hubby returned home in a MOOD. He was exhausted from working all morning, but he cut the grass. As he put up the mower, the rain began to fall. I carried a mug of Gatorade to the bathroom and left Mr. Grumpy alone.

I took Middlest out shopping by herself. She got quite the haul today.* The Boy Child was thought of and bought for. I think he's most looking forward to wearing his new Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. (Less than $10 for two sets of pjs, what could I do?)

*Friday began the tax free weekend for clothing and school supplies. I took both girls shopping. Oldest got the haul from JC Penny. TBC didn't get a single thing from that expedition.

Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. I'm going to resist the urge to go out shopping again. I want to remain healthy.

Open the Box? Nope.

My son thinks he is dying. Not literally, of course, but the suspense is killing him.

I refuse to open the box that came in the mail today.

Late last month, I discovered that my reward points for my credit cards had a lower balance and I hadn’t redeemed anything. I called and threw a polite fit.

“What do you mean they’re expired? Tell me WHERE on my statement did you warn me that 14 THOUSAND points were going to expire at the end of December? I was TRYING to let them build so I could get something really nice. You know, my husband’s Chase card statement has a line that you don’t have on mine: ‘points to expire on December 31, blah blah points’.”

In what many might say was only a minor victory, not only did I get those 14K points restored, there is NOW a line telling me when the next grouping of points will expire.

So there. Told you so.

I figured at this point, it was wise to spend those restored points before I forgot about them. I logged into the site and started building a wish list.

“Hey, Honey? Come look at this drill press, would ya?” I should share, right? It might be my credit card reward points, but his money does pay the bill.

After I finished looking at the large assortment of overpriced junk, I viewed my wish list. That drill press, being a tool and all that, would be used for, I don’t know, re-building the kitchen cabinets. I’m sure there are several crafting applications for a drill press also. I decided to wait on the tent that looked nice. Maybe I’ll ask for a Belgium waffle maker for my birthday or Christmas.

I ordered the drill press this past Saturday. It warned “four to six weeks for delivery.”

They lied. At least it was a good lie. The box was waiting on my doorstep on Thursday.

I wondered if the delivery person was slightly annoyed that no one was home. Then I tried to move the box. My God, that thing is HEAVY! The delivery person was probably relieved the doorstep was only as far as they had to carry it. I shoved, pulled, wrestled, and turned until the box was finally inside the door. I pushed it out of the walkway and left it there.

At this point I should mention I’m fighting a cold and/or wonderful Spring allergies. My symptoms include a lovely headache (Sinus pressure, ARRGH!!!) and zero energy. I was doing good to get that box of lead bricks inside.

Now, for the last several hours, I’ve had to listen to, “Mom, when are you going to open that box? It has Black and Decker on it…”

Don’t you just love emergent readers?

Papa Jimmie gave him an assortment of Black and Decker toys for Christmas. His Daddy has Black and Decker tools. A walk through Lowe’s provides us with plenty of “Look! More Black and Decker!!!” (He saw another toy set JUST LIKE HIS last visit.) Even if he’s not actually READING the name brand, he recognizes the company logo.

IF and I mean IF I open the box before this weekend, it will be after children go to bed and only to ensure all parts arrived intact. We have plans to attack the garage on Saturday. After the junk is removed and the shelves put in, there might even be room to set up the drill press permanently.

But I’m not opening the box now. Nope. Can’t make me.

FIRE: In My Throat and Behind Taco Bell

As I said in my last post, Wednesday was my birthday. While we were being held hostage by Applebee’s, we started talking about who was sick with what. I mentioned my drippy nose. It had been getting worse by small increments for a couple of days.

“Oh, watch that close,” Carolyn said. “I’m just getting over that. It had a terrible sore throat with it. Be sure to drink plenty of water.”

On Thursday, I noticed my throat was hurting. At bedtime it was pretty bad. I sprayed my throat with Chloraseptic spray and tried to sleep. At Midnight I woke. There was no denying it. My throat was on FIRE. I took some Sudafed with Mucinex in case the post nasal drip was the cause. Later I woke up just because I had swallowed. It was getting awful. I took a large dose of Ibuprophen, sprayed some more Chloraseptic, and went back to fitfully napping. By the time I was supposed to get up in the morning, I decided if I didn’t have strep throat, it was some sort of miracle.

The children were sent off to school and I did some light housework. My throat wasn’t so bad at this point, but still very much actively hurting. I picked Oldest up from school to transport her to her appointment. Returning to the car after the appointment, I looked at my watch. “It’s 11:50. You’re missing lunch, aren’t you? How’s Taco Bell sound?”

We had just gotten into our food good when the lights blinked out. I giggled and said, “At least WE have our food.” The lights came on, then went out again. A couple of the employees went outside to see something. Our cashier flipped open her cell phone.

“Hi, we need you to send a fire truck to the Taco Bell at Blah Blah. There’s a fire behind us…. Where the old gas station used to be…”

I had an OMG moment. Caddy was parked on that side! I instructed Oldest to keep eating and pushed past employees. “I need to move my car!”

Caddy was the only vehicle parked there at the time. It was four parking spaces from the drive thru lane. A small strip of grass separated the drive thru from the wooden fence on the property line. The fire raged on the other side of the fence. Gee, my vehicle was indeed the closest vehicle to the fire. A fire truck might need to park there.

As I finished parking on the other side of the lot, I noticed an employee locking the door on my side. I went back to the door I had exited. All the employees were milling about, either just outside or just inside that door. An employee I had not seen before was locking the door. “I need to get back inside. My child is in there.”

He began to argue with me. “We’re closed. We have no power. We’re closed…”

“MY CHILD IS IN THERE! I NEED TO GO BACK INSIDE TO MY CHILD…”

Our cashier appeared. “Her child is really inside. Let her back in.”

God bless that lady.

I rushed back inside. “If someone will get me a container for our food, we’ll leave and be out your hair,” I said to no one in particular. Oldest was busy wrapping her burrito in its paper. The cashier looked to see what we had, then got a lid and bag and brought them to me.

I turned to the other customers. “A bucket truck has touched the power lines. It is on fire. Big flames.” To Oldest I said, “Let’s go.”

“Can I see it?”

“Get in the car.” I explained the need to leave and make room for rescue personnel and vehicles to respond. “As I pull out the back exit, you can see the smoke and flames.” It was most impressive. The smoke was no longer grey. It had become an ugly black. The entire bucket truck was being consumed. Fire trucks began to line the boulevard.

As we drove back to her school, I explained the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t know what happened to the bucket truck operator. Touching power lines doesn’t end well. He or she may well be dead right now. If so, I hope he died quickly. God bless him.” I explained that women could be bucket truck operators, but all the ones I knew had been male.

She was quiet as she digested this information. “I hope he’s OK.”

“I do, too. The best thing to do right now, instead of feeling sorry for him or her, is to just ask God to bless them.”

We signed her back into school. She trotted off to class with her Taco Bell cup and an exciting lunch story to tell everyone. It was time for me to go see the doctor.

As I checked in, I told the Taco Bell fire story to our favorite receptionist. She had been home at lunch at the time of the power outage and her lights had only blinked. “A bucket truck touched the power lines a couple of years ago when they were building the car lot next to us. He was fried. It happens more often than you might think. Dangerous work.”

I had to wait over an hour to be seen as a walk in. This is actually not a bad wait time. The nurse said, “Yeah, we had sent a girl to Quiznoes to get us lunch and they had no power. Maybe that was why. Now I’m going to make you mad…” She grabbed the top of my head and thoroughly swabbed the back of my throat. I tried mightily not to gag.

When she finished I said, “I’m not mad. I understand why you have to do it. I still don’t like it.” I smiled at her and thought of the off color comments I could make, but decided to not offend this nurse I had never seen before.

The doctor finally arrived. I put aside my sudoku book and told him about my fiery throat the night before. He popped out the room to get the rapid strep test results. “She says it’s ‘lightly positive, but definitely positive’. Get these lozenges and here’s your antibiotic prescription.” He wrote a note and a prescription.

I rushed straight home and arrived about five minutes before Oldest did. “I don’t have my antibiotics yet, because I came home so you wouldn’t have to stand outside. Get ready to walk out the door NOW.”

I’ve been living off benzocaine laced lozenges since Friday afternoon, but the antibiotics are starting to work. I actually slept Saturday night. (Friday night was better than Thursday, but far from decent.) I was snoozing along until about 5 AM Sunday morning.

THUMP. (Small pause.) THUMP. (Pause.) THUMP.

After the eighth or ninth THUMP, I got up. I walked over to the rabbit’s cage and kneeled down. He excitedly ran to greet me, to see what I had brought him to eat for breakfast.

“HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.”

I hissed at the rabbit for a good 30 seconds. Bunny frantically raced around the cage, trying to get away from me. Then in a low growl I told him, “There is NO REASON for you to be making THAT noise at THIS time of the morning. STOP. IT. NOW.”

Two nights of sleeping on the sofa are enough. I’m ready to be better now, thank you.

I do believe I’m rambling. It must be time for more pain meds and such.

Be blessed.

My Mother is doing better

On Christmas Sunday, my father called. “I took your mother to the ER at 3 AM.” She had passed out in her bathroom. When Dad took her blood pressure, it was low (100/50). Mom had been experiencing severe pain between her navel and breastbone.

The doctors decided to X-ray her shoulder. The shoulder really hurt as they manipulated it to get the pictures they needed. Mom vomited. She’s very positive it was only from the pain.

Later, a CAT scan was done of her head. Her father died at age 68 of an aneurysm. Mom is 60. Aneurysm is officially ruled out at this time.

The family doctor is arguing with the gastroenterologist about sending a scope down her throat to have a look around. The “tummy doc” didn’t see a need to do the tests in the hospital. The family doctor thought otherwise, but since Mom didn’t have any signs of bleeding internally, he let it go. He signed the paperwork for her to be discharged.

Mom got home before Christmas was over. She celebrated by taking a nap. After two nights in the hospital, she needed some sleep.

CAT Scan: clear. Now what?

I stopped by the allergist's office this morning. As he entered, the nurse caught him to discuss my case. "Bring her back to an exam room..."

My CAT Scan showed nothing. My sinuses are fine. My allergies are behaving themsleves. So WHY am I still running fever? We discussed various possibilities, but I need to go see my primary doctor for more tests.

Currently, it is 78 degrees in the house. I'm running 99.4. I'm so tired of this.

The children are feeling better

It seems that I planned badly and every day this week we have some sort of appointment. (Cue the whiney children...)

Based upon the way they all acted (read: argued) at Oldest's physical yesterday, they are completely healed. Heading out the door to my doctor's appointment today, I instructed the girls to each bring a book. "You get a toy," I told the boy. I should have specified "a quiet toy".

Both girls were told to stay in the waiting room when the nurse called me back. "You are with me, boy," I said firmly. There was no room for argument. I allowed him to demonstrate "Shake 'n Go Mater" for both the nurse and the doctor. "Now switch him off. He's too noisy and we need to talk."

Between the nurse and doctor, Youngest demanded the April issue of "Martha Stewart Living". It was the pretty magazine with Easter stuff on the cover. He turned a few pages. "There's no Easter eggs!" he whined.

"Keep turning pages. They're in there. You're in the middle of the ads in the front. Keep going." He gave me the "you can't possibly know what you are talking about" look. Several pages later, he got to the food section. Now bored with the magazine, he dropped it on the floor and ran Mater over it.

The good news is that I shall live. My cholestrol is "excellent" and won't need to be checked again for a few years.

I've been a little too busy to post. Here's why.

"What happened?" you might ask. Even today, tonsillectomies and adenoidectomies are not without complications. Complications of the "Is my child bleeding to death?" type. Multiply that by two.

I had thought, how silly of me, that getting them both done on the same day would be a GOOD THING (TM). I was wrong.

Big Sister (a.k.a. Oldest) did just fine, but she had two separate procedures separated by three years. I'm still grumpy with that first doctor for refusing to remove her tonsils with her adenoids when she was four. By the time she was almost seven, Oldest was back to snoring. We went to a different doctor and he removed her tonsils. She ate a hot dog, albeit cut into small pieces, after her adenoidectomy. Likewise, I can recall no major issues when Oldest had her tonsillectomy.

*Sigh.*

I don't normally post pictures of my family on this blog, but today is a little different. Perhaps you will understand more when you read the following timeline.

Timeline for T&A Tuesday, June 12

07:15 We arrive at surgery center.
08:00 CS goes into OR.
08:30 JM goes into OR.
10:30 CS goes home.
11:30 JM almost faints, curls into fetal position, nose bleeding.
13:00 JM goes back into OR to have right side of adenoid site cauterized.
14:00 JM and I head home.
14:30 CS wakes from nap with blood on shirt, pillow, and hands.
15:00? CS spits up small amount of blood.
16:00 CS vomits 100cc of DARK blood.
17:30 CS vomits 300cc of DARK blood. I contact on-call doc.
17:35 Doctor instructs me to take CS to Obici ER.
17:40 CS projectile vomits blood into ice cream bucket before I get past the neighbors’ house.
17:41 I begin my attempt to set new land speed record to Obici.
18:00? I note lack of attention caused by passing busy weigh station @ 80mph.
18:05 Left lane of US58 opens up and I discover Caddy CAN do 100…
18:15 Arrive Obici ER.
18:16 Male ER patient asks, “Did he do that?” and points at bucket. Same patient announces to nurse, “You’ve got a lady with a boy and a bucket of blood you MIGHT WANT TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT!” (I thanked the man later.)
18:20 ER crew is getting history from me and IV into CS.
18:25 “Hurry up and wait” begins as we wait for Admissions Clerk.
19:00 CS is in surgery to cauterize his right tonsil site.
20:30 Recovery Room Nurse and I discover CS to be first ever patient to have surgery with his shoes on. Then she gives him morphine.
22:30 The bed assigned to CS is for patients in traction. Evil, foolish nurse calls them “monkey bars”.
23:30 I finally convince CS to let nurse know he needs something to be able to sleep. And, no, they are NOT monkey bars. (This speech is to be repeated at least three more times during the night.)
EVERY HOUR DURING THE DAMNED NIGHT: The IV pole alarms and is not heard at nurses’ station. I must wake up enough to push call button so they will reset it.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 13
09:00? Hubby & JM arrive. I finally get to eat some food down in the cafeteria.
10:30 Hubby stays with CS. I take JM home.
11:05 I change answering machine message and pass out on sofa.
13:30? CS is discharged.

#1. I thank GOD for the GOD-given Mother Instinct which said, "Do not take JM home while her nose is bleeding. This is not normal, no matter what these nurses say." Within the hour, the nurses were agreeing with me whole-heartedly.

#2. I thank GOD for having me realize CS's vomiting was NOT a "wait and see" situation.

#3. Since finally catching up on my sleep, I no longer want to slap the nurse that said "monkey bars", however I would like to point out to her that it was a BAD THING, especially since she was NOT the person tasked with keeping CS from falling out of the bed all night.

Monkey bars, indeed.

Now, if CS will decide to talk again, I will be happier. I do not blame him for refusing to open his mouth or speak in front of "others" after the past couple of days he has had.

When we went to get CBCs (Complete Blood Counts) done on JM and CS today at the urging of their regular pediatrician, the lab tech was practicly in tears as she apologized for having to hurt him some more. The techs could see all the tape residue and needle marks on both of his arms. JM was very brave and sat in the chair all by herself and willingly bared her arms for the techs to choose a vein to draw her blood.

The pediatrician called late in the afternoon to say, "Neither one lost enough blood to 'hurt them', but they need to start on vitamins with iron to build them back up."

How was your week? Mine stunk. BIG TIME.

Just Ugh

It is never fun being sick. This one seems to be a short-timer.

I awoke Tuesday morning feeling a bit on the icky side. I found some Wintergreen Altoids on the head of my bed and ate a couple. No help. I found the Pepto Bismal and drank some. Slight help. I took a quarter of a nausea pill. I went downstairs and got a clear soda. The first burp almost wasn't. I laid down with a large restaurant soda cup. After less than 30 minutes, all that I had ingested found its way into the cup. It was indeed a stomach bug and it affected "both ends".

I remained calm and took a half of the nausea pill with only a sip of water. On the empty stomach, the pill had a chance to work. Now we were getting some where.

Oldest left for the bus. Youngest threw cereal across the room. Middlest packed her lunch. I took them to school, then asked the principal to call me if I was "more than a few minutes late to carpool."

I returned home and set an alarm. I crawled into bed and passed out. When the alarm went off, I almost didn't get up. I finally crawled out the door several minutes late. When I walked into the office to fetch Youngest, the principal said "I just finished calling your house." I thanked her and dragged the screaming brat outside.

"Mommy is barely doing good to pick you up. We are NOT going to visit anyone. We are going HOME."

He ate lunch. I vaguely recall watching cartoons. The afternoon alarm went off and we set out to fetch the sisters. I felt pretty awake as the nausea pill was finally wearing off. However, when we returned home, I sacked out on the love seat.

Hubby returned home and took the children off to karate. I once again passed out. I awoke and glanced at my watch. I was startled that over 45 minutes had passed. I finally got up and ate something. I was vaguely aware of being dehydrated most of the day. I started drinking the clear soda again.

The children returned home and they had their baths. I stretched out on the sofa while Middlest read me a story. I don't recall her going upstairs. Hubby woke me and asked if I was ready to go upstairs. I decided to stay so I could watch my show at 10 PM. It being only 9:45 at this point, I got up and found some food to eat.

After Boston Legal ended, I congratulated myself for actually staying awake for the whole show. I then brushed teeth and fell in the bed fully dressed. I think I remembered to change my socks.

This now brings us to Wednesday morning. I woke after some interesting dreams. I changed my clothes and took my temperature: 99.7 F. Enough to feel icky.

After getting the children off to school, I ran to the grocery store. I had to wait for the checkout and by then I was feeling wimpy. I returned home, unpacked the cold things, then sacked out again for an hour.

Today being Ash Wednesday, I tried to attend the service. Note "tried". Youngest threw a fit. I took him outside to talk about it and only slapped his hand. (I think he deserved MUCH more by this point, but I was TRYING to be nice.) We went back into the service and he cranked it up several notches. I took him outside again, then went back inside to fetch our things. He screamed in the hall the whole time.

We returned home and he went straight for a nap. I do not tolerate that sort of behavior and, if he felt the need to behave thusly, it MUST have been past his naptime.

I ate a normal dinner with the family, but I still feel "wimpy". I think the fever went away this afternoon. Let's hope this was all there was to it. I think I'll go wash the ashes off my forehead now.