As many of you know, Gunnar has been struggling with what we are now back to calling, "Mystery Rash." We saw a pediatric dermatologist, who for the basis of this blog will remain nameless.
Last week, Gunnar's regular doctors decided that it was time to move on to bigger and better things, so they gave us the names of a few dermatologists and a recommendation. We went to see nameless doctor the next day. Nameless was kind and worked us in on a day that nameless does not normally accept appointments for consults, just treatment. At the initial visit, Nameless was thorough, and I was impressed. We spent way to much money and were instructed to follow up in one week.
One week later and we were to be Nameless' first appointment of the day at 8:30. This was perfect because it would have given us enough time to be seen, drive Gunnar home, and for me the workaholic that I am be to an important district meeting in Old Town. Well...that plan didn't work.
Why you may ask?
Well...
1. We arrived 10 mins early as requested, filled out more paperwork and sat down to wait to be called.
2. We were called back at 8:45 (crap...already behind).
3. At 9:10 I poked my head out to see what was going on and was assured that Nameless would be right with us.
4. At 9:25 I repeated and received the same results.
(Officially the meeting is starting)
5. At 9:40 Nameless enters the room, which did I mention Gunnar had already been instructed to disrobe, and as a result is really agitated.
6. Nameless decides that the improvement isn't enough, but "Since <I> was in a hurry, <Nameless> will call in a prescription." Great more money.
I felt that at 5 pm that day, sufficient time would have passed to go pick up said prescription, so I waited 45 mins to be told that NAMELESS had not phoned or faxed over a prescription.
6PM Irate Momma Bear Call Made.
Friday, at 4:45 they decided to call back. Apparently NAMELESS forgot to make a note to call in the ointment before leaving the the weekend, but don't worry, we are going to take care of this for you today.
Can someone explain to me that at 4:30 on Saturday, my itchy baby boy still has no ointment?
Does this office not value the well being of my son? Am I just a money pit to this doctor? Are they seriously this disorganized and unprofessional? What do I have to do to get them to help my son? Do I wait for Monday? DO I call the emergency line and demand answers? Do I play it cool like, nah this stuff happens? Or do I seek help elsewhere?
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Punishment
Recently, and by recent I mean twice in the past week, Brenna has decided to exercise some extra "independence" from the rules.
Over the past weekend, she wanted to invite her friend up the street to come down and play. I said that it was fine, but that she couldn't go until after lunch. Well she gobbled down her lunch and dragged he older brother with her down the street. While I meant come and get me after lunch and we'll go together, she heard chow down and go.
We came up with some better rules:
You don't leave the house without telling a grown up.
You don't drag someone else into your trouble.
You take a phone with you.
On Friday, I got a call at work. I hate calls at work...because they are bad news. Brenna took Gunnar and went into a neighbor's backyard and left Odin. Now the other stay at home dad was out and about...but again it clearly crossed a line that we had discussed.
Gunnar received a stern talking to, but being Brenna's second offense in less than 7 days, we dropped the hammer. It's a weekend of solitary confinement. No outside, no friends, no tv, no computer, no tablet...her and her room.
We did have to go out and buy a few things Friday night so we took her with us. Oh, it was so much fun. She wasn't talking to me...mind you she knew she was wrong, and anticipated the trouble...she told me that herself, but I got the silent treatment.
Brenna?
Glare in my direction
What's wrong?
Shrug
Are you going to tell me?
Shrug
Are you not talking to me?
Nod
(This is going to be great)
Pout
She proceeded to walk about 10 paces behind the rest of us in the store looking at the floor like a defeated puppy.
It was at this moment that my husband and I made it into a game.
Justin asked her to pick out dinner...silly boy...she could point.
I used her brother. I offered Odin a toy for his potential traumatic episode being left alone...to which he happily obliged. Gunnar asked next, and I allowed because he had a tough day at the doctor's office. Brenna putzed around, I asked what's wrong...and she spoke. HA! I declined the toy because she was after all being punished.
Today has been better, she has been speaking to me and Justin...as well as the neighborhood through her bedroom window...can't wait for her to be a teenager.
Over the past weekend, she wanted to invite her friend up the street to come down and play. I said that it was fine, but that she couldn't go until after lunch. Well she gobbled down her lunch and dragged he older brother with her down the street. While I meant come and get me after lunch and we'll go together, she heard chow down and go.
We came up with some better rules:
You don't leave the house without telling a grown up.
You don't drag someone else into your trouble.
You take a phone with you.
On Friday, I got a call at work. I hate calls at work...because they are bad news. Brenna took Gunnar and went into a neighbor's backyard and left Odin. Now the other stay at home dad was out and about...but again it clearly crossed a line that we had discussed.
Gunnar received a stern talking to, but being Brenna's second offense in less than 7 days, we dropped the hammer. It's a weekend of solitary confinement. No outside, no friends, no tv, no computer, no tablet...her and her room.
We did have to go out and buy a few things Friday night so we took her with us. Oh, it was so much fun. She wasn't talking to me...mind you she knew she was wrong, and anticipated the trouble...she told me that herself, but I got the silent treatment.
Brenna?
Glare in my direction
What's wrong?
Shrug
Are you going to tell me?
Shrug
Are you not talking to me?
Nod
(This is going to be great)
Pout
She proceeded to walk about 10 paces behind the rest of us in the store looking at the floor like a defeated puppy.
It was at this moment that my husband and I made it into a game.
Justin asked her to pick out dinner...silly boy...she could point.
I used her brother. I offered Odin a toy for his potential traumatic episode being left alone...to which he happily obliged. Gunnar asked next, and I allowed because he had a tough day at the doctor's office. Brenna putzed around, I asked what's wrong...and she spoke. HA! I declined the toy because she was after all being punished.
Today has been better, she has been speaking to me and Justin...as well as the neighborhood through her bedroom window...can't wait for her to be a teenager.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
No Fun for Mom
Sick kids are not fun. In no way shape or form are they fun. They are so miserable, they get cranky, they whine, they are snotty (figuratively and actually), and did I say they can make you miserable with them.
You know when your kid is getting sick. It's a look in the eye, a behavior change, their color, eating habits...something changes. If you have more than 1 child, you also know that no one has the same symptoms at the same time either. So as one starts to rip back into life...another bites the dust.
One could say that the only thing worse than a sick child is a sick husband. Ahem. But alas that's a different post.
Gunnar has had a really itchy rash on the backs of his legs. That was his only complaint. He itched. It got to the point that he was scratching off his skin about a month ago...so we went to the doctors. We left with an allergy diagnosis, a tube of Benadryl, and a request to stop wearing overnight diapers.
Things never got any worse, but the thing is that they didn't get better either. However, we were told that it would take time. So time we gave it.
Earlier this week, I was out in the yard digging a garden, and I heard that worried call for Mommy that every Mom dreads. We know that call means nothing good will come from it.
With a heavy heart and a churning stomach from what I might find, I entered the bathroom. I found a blood soaked Gunnar. He stood there frozen. I gasped, asked what happened, and started wiping him down to see where it was all coming from. To my surprise, it was coming from everywhere but where I expected. He had scrapes and cuts on his legs, across his chest the side of his face.
I got him cleaned up and decided that there was no more time to be had. This rash had to go.
4 doctors later, a strep test, and 4 hours...we found out. Gunnar has Strep Throat that has migrated to Scarlet Fever. The itching that had led to all that scratching, well the scratching caused a skin infection. His immune system was in overdrive from the infections and the allergens in the air.
This time we were sent home with some Claritin Samples, a prescription for an oral antibiotic, a prescription for a topical antibiotic, and a steroid.
By the way, there was no indication that my child was sick. He never ran a fever, never complained, never got the look in his eyes, never became hostile or overly cuddly. There were no signs.
Now we are dealing with the prescriptions that are giving him fits of rage...that happens every time he is on a steroid. We are dealing with the cocktail that is counteracting his sleeping medication. His being miserable from all the meds that he is on, the fun he can't have because of them.
All of this just crushes my heart. Kids get sick, I know that better than most, but I didn't catch it. What kind of parent does that make me. The doctors all say that even they had no indication that he was this sick, they just had run out of options and decided to test for it. I wish sometimes that Gunnar could be a bit better of a communicator, but until then, we are a bit wiser, a bit more cautious, and more vigilent...and we now know to test for everything and not assume.
You know when your kid is getting sick. It's a look in the eye, a behavior change, their color, eating habits...something changes. If you have more than 1 child, you also know that no one has the same symptoms at the same time either. So as one starts to rip back into life...another bites the dust.
One could say that the only thing worse than a sick child is a sick husband. Ahem. But alas that's a different post.
Gunnar has had a really itchy rash on the backs of his legs. That was his only complaint. He itched. It got to the point that he was scratching off his skin about a month ago...so we went to the doctors. We left with an allergy diagnosis, a tube of Benadryl, and a request to stop wearing overnight diapers.
Things never got any worse, but the thing is that they didn't get better either. However, we were told that it would take time. So time we gave it.
Earlier this week, I was out in the yard digging a garden, and I heard that worried call for Mommy that every Mom dreads. We know that call means nothing good will come from it.
With a heavy heart and a churning stomach from what I might find, I entered the bathroom. I found a blood soaked Gunnar. He stood there frozen. I gasped, asked what happened, and started wiping him down to see where it was all coming from. To my surprise, it was coming from everywhere but where I expected. He had scrapes and cuts on his legs, across his chest the side of his face.
I got him cleaned up and decided that there was no more time to be had. This rash had to go.
4 doctors later, a strep test, and 4 hours...we found out. Gunnar has Strep Throat that has migrated to Scarlet Fever. The itching that had led to all that scratching, well the scratching caused a skin infection. His immune system was in overdrive from the infections and the allergens in the air.
This time we were sent home with some Claritin Samples, a prescription for an oral antibiotic, a prescription for a topical antibiotic, and a steroid.
By the way, there was no indication that my child was sick. He never ran a fever, never complained, never got the look in his eyes, never became hostile or overly cuddly. There were no signs.
Now we are dealing with the prescriptions that are giving him fits of rage...that happens every time he is on a steroid. We are dealing with the cocktail that is counteracting his sleeping medication. His being miserable from all the meds that he is on, the fun he can't have because of them.
All of this just crushes my heart. Kids get sick, I know that better than most, but I didn't catch it. What kind of parent does that make me. The doctors all say that even they had no indication that he was this sick, they just had run out of options and decided to test for it. I wish sometimes that Gunnar could be a bit better of a communicator, but until then, we are a bit wiser, a bit more cautious, and more vigilent...and we now know to test for everything and not assume.
Friday, March 9, 2012
The First
Jaxom registered me into the land of firsts the moment we found out about him. First Pregnancy, First Boy, First Morning Sickness, First Noon Sickness, First Night Sickness, First Fight, First Time Fear got the Best of Me, First I Cannot Fake My Way Moment, First Preemie.
I remember finding out about Jaxom, I (we) thought he was the flu. I was so sick, I couldn't catch a break, I was trying to find a job, so we went to the ER. The nurse came in and drew blood, and he came back about 45 minutes later to hook up an IV. Assuming that the doctor had already come in to talk about what was going on, he asked how I was feeling, I told him, and he shook his head and muttered, you girls and your babies. EXCUSE ME?! Oh, you didn't know, so let me slink out of the room like a rat and get the doctor.
Yep, it was nothing fancy, nothing romantic, we found out in a little Podunk ER in Illinois. Justin, well let's just say he had a less than flattering moment when we found out. I was floored, but I did my best to turn around quickly. It was August 21st, 2001 @ 11:17pm when we found out. The hospital gave me a bottle of little itty bitty anti-nausea pills to go home with. Those pills did nothing but make it impossible to sleep at night and stay awake during the day...they did not stop the nausea.
We decided to wait until my birthday to tell anyone the news. I called my mom from a pay phone with a shitty cord down the street at a convenience mart from where we were being temporarily sheltered from our move to Illinois, if you remember these were the days before affordable cellphone coverage. I called her, she wished me a happy birthday, and I dropped the bomb as gently as any new 19 year old could.
Hey Grandma, how's it going?
Grandma?
Yes, Grandma.
Did you get a puppy?
No.
Did you get a kitten?
No.
What did you get?
A baby...
click.
Well that phone conversation didn't go as I had in mind, but it turns out that I was the one that dropped the call...I either didn't feed the phone enough coins to make the long distance call...or that cord crapped out.
We went home for a visit in October, I had found a job and took a weekend off. Justin still had not found a job however. We had our last paychecks waiting for us at our previous jobs though...so that was something. There was something about coming home that felt right though. And it was then that we made the decision that moving to Illinois was the wrong decision, and we made arrangements for me to drive a huge U haul with my car in tow back home.
We stayed at my parent's place, it was only going to be temporary, but turned out to be a bit longer. I found another job at a bank in Centreville, Justin went back to Pizza Hut at another location. Things were going well...well enough. We found out when Jaxom Xavier was due, April 24. The same day as my Grandfather. We were thrilled. Then Milkshaker died on Christmas Eve. Justin asked if we wanted to name our son after him instead...Jaxom Alford. It was perfect.
On March 3, I called out of work. Something just didn't feel right. I was nauseous, my back hurt, I just wanted to lay in a tub of water all day. I called my mom, she came home and took me to the hospital. Low and behold...I was dilating...I was in labor and didn't know it. I was a 4 and 40%. I was admitted right then and there.
The next 4 days are a haze to me. I was stuck in a little itty bitty room for pre labor, Justin was with me the entire time. I remember lots and lots of doctors and nurses coming to check on me. I remember being really sick from the meds they were giving me. Justin often jokes that he didn't know how I kept puking because the only thing going in was IV fluid. Apparently I was like Old Faithful...he could keep time with my vomiting.
On March 8 the team of doctors decided that they could delay the inevitable no longer. They stopped the meds...which by the way immediately stopped the vomitting and sent me into a bigger room for L&D and into active labor. I remember asking when I could have an epidural...I couldn't have one because of the bars in my back...well now was a fine time to tell me that. They gave me a shot of Demerol instead. They broke my water, and the show was on the road.
I went from 4 to 7 to 10 in 30 minutes. Time to push. It didn't take long to get that tiny little boy from my exhausted body, and when I did...he was a deep blue. That's all I remember of him. They whisked him away quick as that as well. He was way too early. He went straight to the NICU. I couldn't see him for another 12 hours.
When I did finally get to meet him, he had oranged up quite a bit. Yes, I mean orange. He was so jaundiced. Good news though he was breathing on his own. We had a fighter, but he was soooo tiny. 4 lbs. 11 ozs. 20 inches long. He was sticks and skin. He didn't cry, he didn't move...he just kind of lay there as if he knew that getting upset was of no use.
Jaxom had many ups and downs in the NICU, losing weight, becoming to Jaundiced, gaining weight, refusing to eat, failure to wake. I can no longer count how many times I wanted to throw in the towel because it seemed that there were more bad days than good in the beginning. He did eventually hit his stride and we were coming home together on the 19th.
The very first picture of Justin and Jaxom though showed how impressive his jaundice was...as white as Justin is and as orange as Jaxom was...it looked like someone had dropped an orange on a fresh blanket of snow.
Jaxom has grown so much in the past 10 years. I can't even believe that it has been 10 years since I met him face to face for the first time. I miss the days that he was little and innocent, but I have learned to cherish these days a little bit more. Everyone tells you that they grow up fast, but no one says it in a serious voice. They are all consumed with the baby in your arms to say it sternly, instead they say it in high pitched squeaky ones...so you take it as a joke.
Jaxom is now closer to being out in the world on his own and that terrifies me so much. He will be my first to graduate, my first to leave the nest(? maybe). I wish I could stop time, but that would do no one any good. I can just hope that he grows up to be a fine young man.
I remember finding out about Jaxom, I (we) thought he was the flu. I was so sick, I couldn't catch a break, I was trying to find a job, so we went to the ER. The nurse came in and drew blood, and he came back about 45 minutes later to hook up an IV. Assuming that the doctor had already come in to talk about what was going on, he asked how I was feeling, I told him, and he shook his head and muttered, you girls and your babies. EXCUSE ME?! Oh, you didn't know, so let me slink out of the room like a rat and get the doctor.
Yep, it was nothing fancy, nothing romantic, we found out in a little Podunk ER in Illinois. Justin, well let's just say he had a less than flattering moment when we found out. I was floored, but I did my best to turn around quickly. It was August 21st, 2001 @ 11:17pm when we found out. The hospital gave me a bottle of little itty bitty anti-nausea pills to go home with. Those pills did nothing but make it impossible to sleep at night and stay awake during the day...they did not stop the nausea.
We decided to wait until my birthday to tell anyone the news. I called my mom from a pay phone with a shitty cord down the street at a convenience mart from where we were being temporarily sheltered from our move to Illinois, if you remember these were the days before affordable cellphone coverage. I called her, she wished me a happy birthday, and I dropped the bomb as gently as any new 19 year old could.
Hey Grandma, how's it going?
Grandma?
Yes, Grandma.
Did you get a puppy?
No.
Did you get a kitten?
No.
What did you get?
A baby...
click.
Well that phone conversation didn't go as I had in mind, but it turns out that I was the one that dropped the call...I either didn't feed the phone enough coins to make the long distance call...or that cord crapped out.
We went home for a visit in October, I had found a job and took a weekend off. Justin still had not found a job however. We had our last paychecks waiting for us at our previous jobs though...so that was something. There was something about coming home that felt right though. And it was then that we made the decision that moving to Illinois was the wrong decision, and we made arrangements for me to drive a huge U haul with my car in tow back home.
We stayed at my parent's place, it was only going to be temporary, but turned out to be a bit longer. I found another job at a bank in Centreville, Justin went back to Pizza Hut at another location. Things were going well...well enough. We found out when Jaxom Xavier was due, April 24. The same day as my Grandfather. We were thrilled. Then Milkshaker died on Christmas Eve. Justin asked if we wanted to name our son after him instead...Jaxom Alford. It was perfect.
On March 3, I called out of work. Something just didn't feel right. I was nauseous, my back hurt, I just wanted to lay in a tub of water all day. I called my mom, she came home and took me to the hospital. Low and behold...I was dilating...I was in labor and didn't know it. I was a 4 and 40%. I was admitted right then and there.
The next 4 days are a haze to me. I was stuck in a little itty bitty room for pre labor, Justin was with me the entire time. I remember lots and lots of doctors and nurses coming to check on me. I remember being really sick from the meds they were giving me. Justin often jokes that he didn't know how I kept puking because the only thing going in was IV fluid. Apparently I was like Old Faithful...he could keep time with my vomiting.
On March 8 the team of doctors decided that they could delay the inevitable no longer. They stopped the meds...which by the way immediately stopped the vomitting and sent me into a bigger room for L&D and into active labor. I remember asking when I could have an epidural...I couldn't have one because of the bars in my back...well now was a fine time to tell me that. They gave me a shot of Demerol instead. They broke my water, and the show was on the road.
I went from 4 to 7 to 10 in 30 minutes. Time to push. It didn't take long to get that tiny little boy from my exhausted body, and when I did...he was a deep blue. That's all I remember of him. They whisked him away quick as that as well. He was way too early. He went straight to the NICU. I couldn't see him for another 12 hours.
When I did finally get to meet him, he had oranged up quite a bit. Yes, I mean orange. He was so jaundiced. Good news though he was breathing on his own. We had a fighter, but he was soooo tiny. 4 lbs. 11 ozs. 20 inches long. He was sticks and skin. He didn't cry, he didn't move...he just kind of lay there as if he knew that getting upset was of no use.
Jaxom had many ups and downs in the NICU, losing weight, becoming to Jaundiced, gaining weight, refusing to eat, failure to wake. I can no longer count how many times I wanted to throw in the towel because it seemed that there were more bad days than good in the beginning. He did eventually hit his stride and we were coming home together on the 19th.
The very first picture of Justin and Jaxom though showed how impressive his jaundice was...as white as Justin is and as orange as Jaxom was...it looked like someone had dropped an orange on a fresh blanket of snow.
Jaxom has grown so much in the past 10 years. I can't even believe that it has been 10 years since I met him face to face for the first time. I miss the days that he was little and innocent, but I have learned to cherish these days a little bit more. Everyone tells you that they grow up fast, but no one says it in a serious voice. They are all consumed with the baby in your arms to say it sternly, instead they say it in high pitched squeaky ones...so you take it as a joke.
Jaxom is now closer to being out in the world on his own and that terrifies me so much. He will be my first to graduate, my first to leave the nest(? maybe). I wish I could stop time, but that would do no one any good. I can just hope that he grows up to be a fine young man.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
You can thank the birds for THIS
I have not been sleeping well...so in all my spare time I have been trying to do just that. I have been going to sleep with the kids which eats into fun mommy time, but I am so freaking tired.
Last night I went to bed around 9 ish...even with the kids away at their Nanna's house. I lulled myself to sleep with a riveting game of app Majongg and drifted off quickly....I even slept through the night like a big girl...until the birds started chirping.
I tosssed and I turned but I just couldn't get back to sleep and I am still so very tired. So I thought to myself...well I am already up let's go get some stuffs done. So I did. I came downstairs and found Justin and Odin on the couch asleep...I wonder when the new one will arrive... I sat down to catch up on some Facebook and Pinterest (my new obsession). Then it happened.
Odin started to stir...then wimper. Justin cursed in his sleep...If I just stay tucked away in the corner...I can avoid this, but I didn't turn off the monitor in time so instead I got stuck with picking up the sopping wet 3 year old that pissed out of his night time diaper while it remained dry on the inside where it counts at least.
Then the fight over what blanket he wanted to be covered with started. I don't like this blanket, no that one has Transformers on it, no this one is too big...what is this Goldie Lock and the 3 f-ing blankets...Just take a blanket and go back to sleep boy.
It is now 6:47am, my alarm is going off...and I am tired again. Hoooooorah way to start the day, Sae, way to start the day.
Last night I went to bed around 9 ish...even with the kids away at their Nanna's house. I lulled myself to sleep with a riveting game of app Majongg and drifted off quickly....I even slept through the night like a big girl...until the birds started chirping.
I tosssed and I turned but I just couldn't get back to sleep and I am still so very tired. So I thought to myself...well I am already up let's go get some stuffs done. So I did. I came downstairs and found Justin and Odin on the couch asleep...I wonder when the new one will arrive... I sat down to catch up on some Facebook and Pinterest (my new obsession). Then it happened.
Odin started to stir...then wimper. Justin cursed in his sleep...If I just stay tucked away in the corner...I can avoid this, but I didn't turn off the monitor in time so instead I got stuck with picking up the sopping wet 3 year old that pissed out of his night time diaper while it remained dry on the inside where it counts at least.
Then the fight over what blanket he wanted to be covered with started. I don't like this blanket, no that one has Transformers on it, no this one is too big...what is this Goldie Lock and the 3 f-ing blankets...Just take a blanket and go back to sleep boy.
It is now 6:47am, my alarm is going off...and I am tired again. Hoooooorah way to start the day, Sae, way to start the day.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)