I’m writing this so that someday when I whine about something truly petty, someone can simply shoot me a knowing look and say, “but remember THAT day?”
(One eyebrow arched as you say it).
Or maybe it would make one reader feel better about their own day. If I were a sweet southern gal, I’d say that would make it all worth it. But HOLY COW I never ever want to relive this day.
The day that was a magnet for all things rotten.
To put it mildly, the redneck dude I love has been feeling pretty beat up lately. One of the (no surprise) symptoms of his numbers falling.off.the.charts is extreme fatigue. We both half-survived a super fun slumber party with all four of these crazies last weekend.
(That would be Cutie Left, Cindy Lou Hoo, Bubba, and Itty Bit. For a post on the insanity that ensues when these particular munchkins combine forces and the littlest one pretty much takes them all out… here)
I knew it had taken too much out of Mr. Daddy when he ended up with an entire week home on sick leave. He was wiped out and having every symptom of that darn “levels” thing that the docs just wouldn’t fix.
Then he started coughing.
Then the fever.
Sunday morning it was 103.3 and he wouldn’t let me take him to the doctor. He slept all.day.long.
And by Monday morning he hadn’t eaten since Saturday and was barely cognizant when I took his temperature.
When he agreed to go to Urgent Care, I did a mental Hallelujah. But was sad to see how rough he must be feeling to agree to go.
The storm forecast was floating somewhere in my brain when we decided to drop Itty Bit of at school first.
And let me tell you… I cannot remember another thirty minutes of more intense prayer time on the road.
It was pretty much a nonstop carwash on the freeway. Huge sprays of water kicked up by cars hydroplaning on each side. Gusts pushing you across your lane. Metal light signal posts bouncing in the wind.
We pulled into the quickly-flooding Urgent Care parking lot and were drenched in a heartbeat.
He was one of TWO patients (what?!?) and got in quickly.
I will never ever ever get used to this sight.
My strong redneck with a brutal work ethic and a scary-quick wit.
And this is where my day truly started unraveling.
They didn’t do bloodwork.
He said he hadn’t eaten since Saturday or had much to drink.
They didn’t push fluids via IV.
They took his blood pressure and flinched.
A new vein was visible on his left temple.
His fever had *just* broken and he’d soaked through his shirt.
They sent him home.
They wanted to call it a chest cold. Then the flu.
But about those crazy levels that could be causing all his other symptoms...?
“Oh no, we’re Urgent Care. We don’t do that”.
So their answer was a che$t x-ray. Since I’m sure the deductible for that is much sweeter than the deductible for a bloodwork panel that they might have to actually take action on.
So we battled the storm to grab more Tylenol and chicken soup ingredients on our way home.
And for the second time in my life, I found myself deaf and blind in a huge store, as the power went out and plunged us all into darkness.
Half-panic until the generators turned on.
Then darkness again. Then generators again.
We got out of dodge to head home.
To a cold house without power.
(Remember last time Mr. Daddy returned from the hospital, the power was off too?!)
We now had bags of groceries and no way to cook them. No way to get any kind of warm broth in the sick dude.
We hauled wood inside and stoked a fire. He loaded up on three blankets and promptly fell asleep with his coat, shoes and hat on.
Then the email from the school.
Phones down, storm conditions, pick up your child if you are concerned.
I hit the road and 20 minutes later my phone buzzed. A text message from Mr. Daddy saying the dentist had called about my appointment. The appointment that started 15 minutes ago.
I picked up the confused kiddo and dashed to the dentist office. They ushered me in and gave Itty Bit a chair nearby. I threw him my phone with explicit instructions that the volume must be muted. He agreed and immediately began making his own sound effects for what apparently was a helicopter shooting game.
BAM! BAM BAM BAM BOOM! (machine gun fire) BAM. WHOO!!!
With someone’s hands, fourteen metal instruments and a spit-sucker-thingie hanging in my mouth, I growled out,
“Mff Mfff Ummm Gfpppp NOW!”
And the dude IGNORED me.
Like really bad.
Like four times in a row as he BAM-BAM’d at full volume in the partitioned office where four (hearing) patients also had sharp instruments in their mouths and I was wildly kicking my foot out trying to reach his knee.
My poor dental hygienist stopped and waited for me to bark orders with spit and pink fluoride dripping down my chin.
What could I do but confiscate the phone. And then have a ticked off 6-year old with NOTHING to do. In PUBLIC. While I couldn’t say a single intelligible word to him or even watch him around all the metalwork in my mouth and the bright light blinding me. #shootmenow
Helpfully, the dentist arrived and asked about stress.
Stress? What do you mean?
Well, you’re clenching your teeth and grinding them. And doing a lot of damage.
I laughed at him. Because I’d cry if I don’t. And I add my signature to the “this isn’t covered by insurance” quote paperwork.
One more meltdown from Itty Bit and we headed out to the car to fight the storm for another half hour.
We got in the car and Itty Bit announced, “IT’S HEALED!” while pulling a bandaid from his thumb.
I was sharpening my scissors in class.
You were what?
Yeah… the teacher said never ever do that again.
What? What were you sharpening them with?
I died. I stopped the car and laughed hysterically. And I thought, “this is how people go insane in the span of one day.”
(No worries, I’m not the WORST mom. Itty Bit was laughing too because he was so happy he wasn’t in bigger trouble).
So how was your day?