Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Preparing
Somehow, last week, all the planets aligned in my favor (or at least I think it was in my favor), and Research Department decided a joint appointment was a good idea. Oh, and that directly going against the express wishes of the dean was likely not a good move. So my interview that has been scheduled for about 2 weeks is going forward tomorrow. I've been prepping for the last 2 weeks, as you might imagine, but I spent a good portion of yesterday putting some things together. Today I'm rereading my job letter, my writing sample, and my job talk. I more or less know what questions to expect, but I want to put on the best possible "show" I can tomorrow. Archer has taken over with the boys. They are installing a ceiling fan right now, and later they will make a trip to Home Depot to buy some things for the garden. He even has my muffin recipe in hand so he and Wild Man can make muffins while Bear naps later today. My biggest concern right now: I woke up with a cold this morning. Here's hoping I can stave the worst of it off with fluids and physical, if not mental rest.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
I have a . . .
cough that will not go away. I had a cold a few weeks ago, and it came and went fairly quickly. This cough, however, is lingering, and it is getting worse. I'm giving it till tomorrow, and then I'm making a doctor's appointment. So not fun . . .
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Sore
Yesterday morning I woke up with some tension in my neck and shoulders. Given that this is where I carry my stress, I didn't think too much about it. By mid-day, however, I also noticed that my triceps and biceps are really sore, so sore that picking up Bear was a bit uncomfortable. But, again, I didn't think too much about it. This morning, however, I'm really, really sore, as in so sore it hurts to lift my school bag, which doesn't contain anything out of the ordinary. I'd like to say it is from all the exercising I've been doing, but unless you count picking up Bear and taking books to and from my shelves while I do research exercise, that isn't it. I mentioned it to Archer, and he said, "Well, it makes sense." I gave him a quizzical look. He said, "M, you had to hold Bear down for over an hour on Monday night while the nurses at the ER tried to give him an IV. He weighs 27 pounds and is as strong as an ox." Right. That would explain it.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Mothering a Stubborn Child, an update
After Monday night's trauma (ok, so I'm a bit dramatic) of forcing Wild Man to take Motrin to bring his fever down, Archer and I had to do the same thing again on Tuesday morning, Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning, only this time with cough medicine as Wild Man's fever was gone. Both times, however, we gave him 2 chances to take the medicine on his own. After the second time he refused we did what has quickly (and a bit alarmingly) become routine. Archer hugged Wild Man in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides and holding his head steady, while I pried his mouth open and shot the medicine into the back of his cheek (a tip from a friend, who said that doing this makes it harder for the child to spit the medicine out, and she was right). Each time Wild Man cried like his heart was broken, and each time I became more resigned to this method. By yesterday morning Wild Man actually admitted the cough medicine made him feel better but that he didn't like it and that he didn't want to take it. I said, "I know, lovey. I don't like taking medicine either. But sometimes we have to take medicine to help us get better. Until you decide to take it on your own, Daddy and I will have to give your medicine this way, which upsets everyone." As further inducement to get him to take it, Archer and I had not allowed Wild Man to watch his allotted 30 minutes of television a day or to play any of his many puzzle games on my iPod touch. I thought this would have encouraged him to take it, especially as Wild Man got sent to his room while Bear watched Sesame Street. No such luck. This kid is stubborn.
Yesterday I had a thought. Medicine does suck. I don't like taking it, but I'm an adult. I take it because I know it will make me feel and get better. Wild Man doesn't get this. All he knows is that we're forcing him to take something that tastes yucky (and I don't care how much artificial flavor, sugar, or corn syrup the manufacturers add to medicine, it still tastes like crap). Further, we're forcing him to do something he has had absolutely no say in. So yesterday I took a risk. When I picked Wild Man up from kindergarten, I took him directly to the drug store without telling him where we were going. I led him to the kids' medicine section, and I explained he could choose the kind of medicine he wanted to take. I did explain that I had to read the box to make sure it was the appropriate kind of medicine for his cough and to make sure it was for his age. He said, "You mean, I get to choose?" I said, "Yep, you get to choose. But if you refuse to take it Mommy and Daddy will have to hold your arms and squirt in down your throat just like with the other medicine until you're better." Something clicked, and suddenly he was interested. He pointed out a cold medication with an elephant on the box, so I told him what it was. Then he picked out a nifty kind that melts on the tongue, and he was really interested in this one. Unfortunately, it is designed for kids 6 or older, which I told him. He was disappointed, but he picked another one. After about 15 minutes he had selected a fever medication (chewable, grape-flavored tablets), a cough medicine (grape-flavored liquid), and chewable vitamins (what I didn't say in the previous post is that he was also refusing the chewable vitamins I picked out, ones high in vitamin D b/c, you know, we live in the land where the sun disappears for winter and we're all vitamin D deficient). He held all three boxes while I paid, and as soon as we got to the car, he asked for a vitamin. He had selected these vitamins because they have hippos on them, and as many of you know, Wild Man loves hippos. Coincidentally, they also have the highest amount of vitamin D of any of the children's vitamins in the store, which made me happy. As soon as I handed it to him, he happily chomped it down.
At bedtime, I told him he needed to take his cough medicine. He was wary, even after I reminded him that it was the kind he selected. As I handed him the medicine cup, he looked at me skeptically. I said, "Remember, you said you'd take it. It's your choice to take it on your own or not, but if you don't take it, we'll have to squirt it down your throat again." He looked at me again and then at the medicine, and then he took it, saying afterward, "Hey, that didn't taste so bad, Mommy." Archer and I both told him how proud we were, and I am. I'm also proud of us. I proud that we did what we had to do, and I'm also proud that we figured out a solution to the problem--for now, at least. The next time Wild Man needs medicine or vitamins I'll happily take him shopping with me so he can choose. It seems he wants to be involved in the process, and that's fine by me. But I'll also be prepared to squirt it down his throat if I have to.
And as a bonus, he took his vitamin this morning without incident. In fact, he asked for it.
Yesterday I had a thought. Medicine does suck. I don't like taking it, but I'm an adult. I take it because I know it will make me feel and get better. Wild Man doesn't get this. All he knows is that we're forcing him to take something that tastes yucky (and I don't care how much artificial flavor, sugar, or corn syrup the manufacturers add to medicine, it still tastes like crap). Further, we're forcing him to do something he has had absolutely no say in. So yesterday I took a risk. When I picked Wild Man up from kindergarten, I took him directly to the drug store without telling him where we were going. I led him to the kids' medicine section, and I explained he could choose the kind of medicine he wanted to take. I did explain that I had to read the box to make sure it was the appropriate kind of medicine for his cough and to make sure it was for his age. He said, "You mean, I get to choose?" I said, "Yep, you get to choose. But if you refuse to take it Mommy and Daddy will have to hold your arms and squirt in down your throat just like with the other medicine until you're better." Something clicked, and suddenly he was interested. He pointed out a cold medication with an elephant on the box, so I told him what it was. Then he picked out a nifty kind that melts on the tongue, and he was really interested in this one. Unfortunately, it is designed for kids 6 or older, which I told him. He was disappointed, but he picked another one. After about 15 minutes he had selected a fever medication (chewable, grape-flavored tablets), a cough medicine (grape-flavored liquid), and chewable vitamins (what I didn't say in the previous post is that he was also refusing the chewable vitamins I picked out, ones high in vitamin D b/c, you know, we live in the land where the sun disappears for winter and we're all vitamin D deficient). He held all three boxes while I paid, and as soon as we got to the car, he asked for a vitamin. He had selected these vitamins because they have hippos on them, and as many of you know, Wild Man loves hippos. Coincidentally, they also have the highest amount of vitamin D of any of the children's vitamins in the store, which made me happy. As soon as I handed it to him, he happily chomped it down.
At bedtime, I told him he needed to take his cough medicine. He was wary, even after I reminded him that it was the kind he selected. As I handed him the medicine cup, he looked at me skeptically. I said, "Remember, you said you'd take it. It's your choice to take it on your own or not, but if you don't take it, we'll have to squirt it down your throat again." He looked at me again and then at the medicine, and then he took it, saying afterward, "Hey, that didn't taste so bad, Mommy." Archer and I both told him how proud we were, and I am. I'm also proud of us. I proud that we did what we had to do, and I'm also proud that we figured out a solution to the problem--for now, at least. The next time Wild Man needs medicine or vitamins I'll happily take him shopping with me so he can choose. It seems he wants to be involved in the process, and that's fine by me. But I'll also be prepared to squirt it down his throat if I have to.
And as a bonus, he took his vitamin this morning without incident. In fact, he asked for it.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Bear and vomit
Bear has just gotten over his second stomach bug in as many weeks. I'm tired of smelling like vomit. I just thought I'd share that.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Bear
Bear has been sick. Friday, around 10:00, shortly after I'd walked over to our neighbor's house to have a glass of wine, C called me to say that Bear had woken up vomiting. I trekked home to help C take care of the mess. Bear vomited 4 more times in the night, and C and I took turns sleeping and caring for Bear. By the morning he was better, and he was in a good enough mood that we went ahead with our plans to go blueberry picking. By that afternoon, however, he had a fever, which eventually hit 103 at some point in the night. He was an unhappy little guy, and as he was constantly pulling at his ears, we decided he needed to see a doctor.
On Sunday morning I took him over to the children's clinic, and we were seen pretty quickly. The doctor, whom we hadn't seen before and Bear loved, said he was in great health and that he most likely had some sort of virus that needed to run its course. He then asked me who our regular doctor was, and I told him. He then asked if she had ever mentioned that Bear had a bifid uvula. I said, no, and asked him what that was. He explained that a bifid uvula is a uvula that has a cleft in it. He then said a bifid uvula can be an indicator of a submucous cleft palate. He didn't really explain what that was, but he recommended we get an appointment with our doctor and get her opinion. He urged me to ask her to recommend us to a pediatric ENT for assessment. He reassured me that a bifid uvula isn't always an indicator of a submucous cleft palate, but that it can be. When I asked what problems it could cause, he was fairly casual and responded that it could lead to hearing and/or speech problems. So I left the appointment not too worried. I talked it over with C, and since we already have an appointment with our doctor for Bear in early August I didn't worry about it. Then, Sunday night, as I was awake with a restless Bear, I looked it up on google. Here is what I learned.
In a nutshell, a submucous cleft is a muscular deficiency in the soft palate that can lead to moderate to severe speech problems, most notably hypernasality. If this is the case, the only correction is surgery. If it is a more minor form, treatment is aggressive speech therapy and/or some sort of retainer to help correct and strengthen the mouth muscles. In the grand scheme of cleft palate issues, a submucous cleft palate is fairly minor, and from what I've read fairly easy to correct. I am, however, stressed out about this. This isn't the kind of thing I would normally get stressed out about. Normally if a doctor mentions a potential problem with one of my kids, I take the "Let's see approach." This isn't to say that I don't worry, but I am generally able to keep the worry to a minimum until we have all the information. I believe this saves me a lot of unnecessary stress, and yes, it is a conscious decision on my part. But this time, I'm worried. I don't know if it is the combination of lack of sleep (Bear is also cutting every tooth imaginable and I'm getting over the stomach bug, which I caught from him), PMS (of all weeks, my period, which I haven't had since giving birth to Bear, decided to return this week), and general stress (work stuff), but I'm really worried. I'm especially freaked out that he might have to have surgery. Normally, I'd just try to move our appointment with our doctor up, but our doctor is on vacation until the first of August, so I can't move it up. And I'm not fond of any of the other doctors in the practice. In the meantime, I'm analyzing every sound Bear makes to see if he has either a hearing or a speech problem, which is really unproductive as I'm not trained to do that. I'll also remind myself that we don't know if he has a submucous cleft palate and that if he does it is fairly easy to take care of in the grand scheme of things. Oh, and I'll try not to worry about it until the doctor's appointment in 2 weeks.
On Sunday morning I took him over to the children's clinic, and we were seen pretty quickly. The doctor, whom we hadn't seen before and Bear loved, said he was in great health and that he most likely had some sort of virus that needed to run its course. He then asked me who our regular doctor was, and I told him. He then asked if she had ever mentioned that Bear had a bifid uvula. I said, no, and asked him what that was. He explained that a bifid uvula is a uvula that has a cleft in it. He then said a bifid uvula can be an indicator of a submucous cleft palate. He didn't really explain what that was, but he recommended we get an appointment with our doctor and get her opinion. He urged me to ask her to recommend us to a pediatric ENT for assessment. He reassured me that a bifid uvula isn't always an indicator of a submucous cleft palate, but that it can be. When I asked what problems it could cause, he was fairly casual and responded that it could lead to hearing and/or speech problems. So I left the appointment not too worried. I talked it over with C, and since we already have an appointment with our doctor for Bear in early August I didn't worry about it. Then, Sunday night, as I was awake with a restless Bear, I looked it up on google. Here is what I learned.
In a nutshell, a submucous cleft is a muscular deficiency in the soft palate that can lead to moderate to severe speech problems, most notably hypernasality. If this is the case, the only correction is surgery. If it is a more minor form, treatment is aggressive speech therapy and/or some sort of retainer to help correct and strengthen the mouth muscles. In the grand scheme of cleft palate issues, a submucous cleft palate is fairly minor, and from what I've read fairly easy to correct. I am, however, stressed out about this. This isn't the kind of thing I would normally get stressed out about. Normally if a doctor mentions a potential problem with one of my kids, I take the "Let's see approach." This isn't to say that I don't worry, but I am generally able to keep the worry to a minimum until we have all the information. I believe this saves me a lot of unnecessary stress, and yes, it is a conscious decision on my part. But this time, I'm worried. I don't know if it is the combination of lack of sleep (Bear is also cutting every tooth imaginable and I'm getting over the stomach bug, which I caught from him), PMS (of all weeks, my period, which I haven't had since giving birth to Bear, decided to return this week), and general stress (work stuff), but I'm really worried. I'm especially freaked out that he might have to have surgery. Normally, I'd just try to move our appointment with our doctor up, but our doctor is on vacation until the first of August, so I can't move it up. And I'm not fond of any of the other doctors in the practice. In the meantime, I'm analyzing every sound Bear makes to see if he has either a hearing or a speech problem, which is really unproductive as I'm not trained to do that. I'll also remind myself that we don't know if he has a submucous cleft palate and that if he does it is fairly easy to take care of in the grand scheme of things. Oh, and I'll try not to worry about it until the doctor's appointment in 2 weeks.
Friday, February 01, 2008
A rough week
Shortly after I posted on Monday, as I was revising a section of my dissertation, I got a phone call from Wild Man's teacher. He had a fever of 103.6. I dropped everything to go get him, while C tried to get us into to see the pediatrician. He quickly learned that there was no chance of us getting an appointment on Monday, so he made an appointment for first thing Tuesday morning. We were scheduled to see a pediatrician in the practice we go to, but not our pediatrician. This is not normally a big deal, except that the pediatrician C made the appointment with is our least favorite of all the pediatricians. When I got home with Wild Man, we quickly assessed the situation, and given how lethargic Wild Man was, we decided to brave the urgent care clinic that afternoon. Once we got there, we figured that there wasn't much chance of us getting an appointment, but C stood in line to check us in while I sat with Wild Man. My normally active little boy didn't want to do anything more than sit on my lap and rub my hair. After 25 minutes in line, C was told that there was a 2.5 hour wait to see a doctor. He made the executive decision that we needed to get Wild Man home and wait to see a doctor until the morning.
Given how terrible Wild Man felt, Monday night wasn't as horrible as it could have been. Tuesday morning was pretty bad though, as C was still getting over a stomach bug he had developed Monday morning. Somehow I managed to get ready to teach, give Wild Man breakfast, give C ginger ale, and get us all to the doctor by 8:15 am. The doctor's assessment wasn't a surprise: a virus. He told us to continue to give Wild Man medicine if the fever was bothering him and to bring him back by the end of the week if he still had a fever. My mommy instinct told me the doctor was wrong; I knew something was wrong, and that Wild Man's symptoms were going to get worse before they got better. The rest of the week has been about keeping Wild Man feel comfortable and trying to find time to do a little work.
Wednesday C was at school all day, so I was home with Wild Man. Considering he had a fever that hovered around 102 all day, we had a relatively good day. At 10:00, as I tried to check email, Wild Man sat down by my desk and just started crying. I picked him up and 5 minutes later he was asleep in my lap. I held him while I answered students' emails for about 30 minutes, and I decided to try to put him down. Putting Wild Man down when he's fallen asleep on you is always dicey. I opted for our bed (yes, I am part of the bad-mommy brigade) rather than his crib b/c he tends to nap better on our bed. Luckily, he stayed asleep. And he slept for 2.5 hours, giving me enough time to get my lessons for Thursday. He woke up in a good mood, so after lunch, he and I headed to school so I could get some copies made and pick up some books from the library. We got home just as C got home, and Wild Man was happy to see his dad. They played for an hour or so, and then Wild Man crawled into my lap and fell asleep for an hour.
Wednesday night was rough. C took the night shift so I was rested to teach. He ended up sleeping on the floor of Wild Man's room so he could comfort him back to sleep every time he woke himself up coughing. I spent Thursday in my office on campus working, and C and Wild Man had the day to themselves. It was, apparently, 180 degrees different from Wednesday. Wild Man was whiny, tired, fussy, and just not himself. We had an appointment with our pediatrician for Wild Man to get his 15 month shots Thursday afternoon, but it was pretty clear that he wouldn't be getting any shots. As soon as C and Wild Man walked into the doctor's office, I knew my mommy instinct had been right. Wild Man was glassy-eyed, listless, and wanted to do nothing more than have me hold him. He made no attempt to get down or to play with the toys in the waiting room. He didn't say hello to the receptionist, the nurses, or any of the other children there. He didn't even notice the doctor as she poked and prodded him--and he loves his doctor.
After the doctor did her initial assessment, she decided that Wild Man needed a chest x-ray; although his lungs sounded clear, his prolonged fever had her worried. She said she'd seen several kids his age with pneumonia, so she wanted to make sure he didn't have that. We headed over to radiology for an x-ray, and 45 minutes later she showed C and I our son's x-rays. She explained that the wedge shaped shadow in his right lung was pneumonia. I immediately assumed we'd be spending the night (and maybe the next) in the hospital. Our doctor is so great though. She wanted to do what was best for Wild Man and given what we'd told her about his hospital stay after his seizure, she said she didn't want to put him in the hospital unless it was absolutely necessary. She had a nurse check his pulse-ox, and when she learned it was 97%, she decided he could go home with us. She gave him two shots of antibiotics, and we made an appointment to see her again today.
Last night was not great, but it was better than Wednesday night. And Wild Man woke up for the first time all week without a fever. He still wasn't himself, but he was more himself than he has been. He actually ate and tried to play. At his follow-up appointment, his doctor decided to give him a course of oral antibiotics rather than another shot, and we discussed what to do if he should get worse over the weekend. Right now he is sleeping soundly, and C and I are both keeping our fingers crossed that he sleeps through the night. Because he and I definitely need a good night's sleep after this rough, rough week.
Given how terrible Wild Man felt, Monday night wasn't as horrible as it could have been. Tuesday morning was pretty bad though, as C was still getting over a stomach bug he had developed Monday morning. Somehow I managed to get ready to teach, give Wild Man breakfast, give C ginger ale, and get us all to the doctor by 8:15 am. The doctor's assessment wasn't a surprise: a virus. He told us to continue to give Wild Man medicine if the fever was bothering him and to bring him back by the end of the week if he still had a fever. My mommy instinct told me the doctor was wrong; I knew something was wrong, and that Wild Man's symptoms were going to get worse before they got better. The rest of the week has been about keeping Wild Man feel comfortable and trying to find time to do a little work.
Wednesday C was at school all day, so I was home with Wild Man. Considering he had a fever that hovered around 102 all day, we had a relatively good day. At 10:00, as I tried to check email, Wild Man sat down by my desk and just started crying. I picked him up and 5 minutes later he was asleep in my lap. I held him while I answered students' emails for about 30 minutes, and I decided to try to put him down. Putting Wild Man down when he's fallen asleep on you is always dicey. I opted for our bed (yes, I am part of the bad-mommy brigade) rather than his crib b/c he tends to nap better on our bed. Luckily, he stayed asleep. And he slept for 2.5 hours, giving me enough time to get my lessons for Thursday. He woke up in a good mood, so after lunch, he and I headed to school so I could get some copies made and pick up some books from the library. We got home just as C got home, and Wild Man was happy to see his dad. They played for an hour or so, and then Wild Man crawled into my lap and fell asleep for an hour.
Wednesday night was rough. C took the night shift so I was rested to teach. He ended up sleeping on the floor of Wild Man's room so he could comfort him back to sleep every time he woke himself up coughing. I spent Thursday in my office on campus working, and C and Wild Man had the day to themselves. It was, apparently, 180 degrees different from Wednesday. Wild Man was whiny, tired, fussy, and just not himself. We had an appointment with our pediatrician for Wild Man to get his 15 month shots Thursday afternoon, but it was pretty clear that he wouldn't be getting any shots. As soon as C and Wild Man walked into the doctor's office, I knew my mommy instinct had been right. Wild Man was glassy-eyed, listless, and wanted to do nothing more than have me hold him. He made no attempt to get down or to play with the toys in the waiting room. He didn't say hello to the receptionist, the nurses, or any of the other children there. He didn't even notice the doctor as she poked and prodded him--and he loves his doctor.
After the doctor did her initial assessment, she decided that Wild Man needed a chest x-ray; although his lungs sounded clear, his prolonged fever had her worried. She said she'd seen several kids his age with pneumonia, so she wanted to make sure he didn't have that. We headed over to radiology for an x-ray, and 45 minutes later she showed C and I our son's x-rays. She explained that the wedge shaped shadow in his right lung was pneumonia. I immediately assumed we'd be spending the night (and maybe the next) in the hospital. Our doctor is so great though. She wanted to do what was best for Wild Man and given what we'd told her about his hospital stay after his seizure, she said she didn't want to put him in the hospital unless it was absolutely necessary. She had a nurse check his pulse-ox, and when she learned it was 97%, she decided he could go home with us. She gave him two shots of antibiotics, and we made an appointment to see her again today.
Last night was not great, but it was better than Wednesday night. And Wild Man woke up for the first time all week without a fever. He still wasn't himself, but he was more himself than he has been. He actually ate and tried to play. At his follow-up appointment, his doctor decided to give him a course of oral antibiotics rather than another shot, and we discussed what to do if he should get worse over the weekend. Right now he is sleeping soundly, and C and I are both keeping our fingers crossed that he sleeps through the night. Because he and I definitely need a good night's sleep after this rough, rough week.
Monday, July 16, 2007
I'm actually glad it's Monday. . .
After a horrible weekend, I'm actually glad it's Monday. C came home Friday night, after a much needed night out with "the guys," to discover our cat Minnie was having trouble breathing. After waking me up to consult and making a few frantic phone calls, he took her to the university's vet school, which has emergency hours. On Saturday morning, we spoke with the vet who was treating her; the news was not good. Our sweet little girl has advanced heart disease, and while it is treatable, she isn't expected to live more than a year. She is only 2 1/2 years old. We're both devastated.
We adopted her long before we decided to have children, so in some ways, we think of her as our oldest child. She also has a genetic deformity in her front legs called "curvus radius," which makes her look like a bulldog. She has had a hard time walking since she was full grown, but she has always been an active, lovable cat. Truth be told, she hasn't responded well to S because she prefers to initiate playtime rather than to have an 8-month-old crawl after her, but she still sought C and I out for lots of attention. I feel confident that she will receive the best possible care with this vet (and I feel incredibly lucky to attend this university--we have access to some of the best veterinary care in the country), but I'm heartbroken. We both spent most of Saturday evening in a daze, and when we brought her home yesterday, we both kept checking on her incessantly. C even got up several times in the night to check on her.
On top of this, C leaves tomorrow for his dissertation defense, and his advisor has already told him he should expect to make substantial editorial changes (have I ever mentioned how much I hate this woman?). I have to handle teaching, taking care of S, and getting Minnie back to the vet on Thursday for a recheck. When I called to make her appointment with the cardiologist this morning, I was told that I was being worked in, so I should expect to be there all day long. The appointment time is in the morning, about an hour before I go and nurse S at school, so I have no idea what I'm going to do about that. I don't feel comfortable asking someone to take Minnie to the vet for me, but I don't want S to miss the nursing session either, as I'm afraid that may throw his entire day off. I've decided to cancel my class, so that is one less thing I have to worry about. I really just want to rewind and make Minnie better.
I know there are people who will disagree with me and those out there (my mother among them) who will question going this far for "an animal," but she is so much more than a pet to us. We refer to her and our other cat as S's "older sisters,." A bit weird, I know, but we constantly tell him to "play nice" with his sisters. I do think of these two girls as my babies. We adopted her at a time when we were both beginning to think about having children, and shortly after we got her, my biological clock went into overdrive. She became the baby we didn't have yet, and when we adopted a second cat, we felt like a family. I was antsy all day Saturday because I knew she was in a strange place being poked and prodded; we went to see her for a few minutes, and I felt horrible leaving her. I wanted to be with her, much like I would want to be with S if he was in the hospital. I just wish I could make her better.
We adopted her long before we decided to have children, so in some ways, we think of her as our oldest child. She also has a genetic deformity in her front legs called "curvus radius," which makes her look like a bulldog. She has had a hard time walking since she was full grown, but she has always been an active, lovable cat. Truth be told, she hasn't responded well to S because she prefers to initiate playtime rather than to have an 8-month-old crawl after her, but she still sought C and I out for lots of attention. I feel confident that she will receive the best possible care with this vet (and I feel incredibly lucky to attend this university--we have access to some of the best veterinary care in the country), but I'm heartbroken. We both spent most of Saturday evening in a daze, and when we brought her home yesterday, we both kept checking on her incessantly. C even got up several times in the night to check on her.
On top of this, C leaves tomorrow for his dissertation defense, and his advisor has already told him he should expect to make substantial editorial changes (have I ever mentioned how much I hate this woman?). I have to handle teaching, taking care of S, and getting Minnie back to the vet on Thursday for a recheck. When I called to make her appointment with the cardiologist this morning, I was told that I was being worked in, so I should expect to be there all day long. The appointment time is in the morning, about an hour before I go and nurse S at school, so I have no idea what I'm going to do about that. I don't feel comfortable asking someone to take Minnie to the vet for me, but I don't want S to miss the nursing session either, as I'm afraid that may throw his entire day off. I've decided to cancel my class, so that is one less thing I have to worry about. I really just want to rewind and make Minnie better.
I know there are people who will disagree with me and those out there (my mother among them) who will question going this far for "an animal," but she is so much more than a pet to us. We refer to her and our other cat as S's "older sisters,." A bit weird, I know, but we constantly tell him to "play nice" with his sisters. I do think of these two girls as my babies. We adopted her at a time when we were both beginning to think about having children, and shortly after we got her, my biological clock went into overdrive. She became the baby we didn't have yet, and when we adopted a second cat, we felt like a family. I was antsy all day Saturday because I knew she was in a strange place being poked and prodded; we went to see her for a few minutes, and I felt horrible leaving her. I wanted to be with her, much like I would want to be with S if he was in the hospital. I just wish I could make her better.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Travels, Research, and More Sickness
Just a quick post to let everyone know I'm still alive.
We've returned from our marathon trip to the Northeast, where we visited old friends and met C's mom and sister. I'll write more about the family aspect of the trip later as I still have to process that part myself. Seeing our old friends was good, if a bit surreal. We left Northeast College Town over 4 years ago to move to Southern College Town so I work on my doctorate while C finished his from distance. Most of his friends in NCT were affiliated with his program, and most of mine were through the museum where I worked. I made some great friends, probably the only friends I've ever had whom I didn't meet through school. As nice as that was, it made life complicated when we moved. Visiting 4 years post-move was odd. We now all have babies, and I have little to talk about with them except babies. I love these ladies, 2 in particular, but we just don't have a lot in common. They politely asked me about my work, but it is very far outside their realm of experience as are their lives to me.
When we left NCT, we traveled to The Berkshires--BEAUTIFUL! We spent several days in Lenox, MA, and I got in three lengthy visits to The Mount, including a 2 hour chat with the librarian. They had nothing in the way of archival materials, but seeing the space was so helpful for my topic. I was also able to see copies of the architectural plans, which included some changes that Edith Wharton ordered. I now have to finish reading several books, go through all my notes, get familiar with the Beinecke's website, and figure out if I need to make another research trip to Indiana. I arrived home feeling energized and ready to do some real work.
But S arrived home with an awful ear infection, which made him miserable, which made C and me miserable. Luckily he is feeling much, much better. He can go back to school on Tuesday, which means I can get back into the groove of work.
We've returned from our marathon trip to the Northeast, where we visited old friends and met C's mom and sister. I'll write more about the family aspect of the trip later as I still have to process that part myself. Seeing our old friends was good, if a bit surreal. We left Northeast College Town over 4 years ago to move to Southern College Town so I work on my doctorate while C finished his from distance. Most of his friends in NCT were affiliated with his program, and most of mine were through the museum where I worked. I made some great friends, probably the only friends I've ever had whom I didn't meet through school. As nice as that was, it made life complicated when we moved. Visiting 4 years post-move was odd. We now all have babies, and I have little to talk about with them except babies. I love these ladies, 2 in particular, but we just don't have a lot in common. They politely asked me about my work, but it is very far outside their realm of experience as are their lives to me.
When we left NCT, we traveled to The Berkshires--BEAUTIFUL! We spent several days in Lenox, MA, and I got in three lengthy visits to The Mount, including a 2 hour chat with the librarian. They had nothing in the way of archival materials, but seeing the space was so helpful for my topic. I was also able to see copies of the architectural plans, which included some changes that Edith Wharton ordered. I now have to finish reading several books, go through all my notes, get familiar with the Beinecke's website, and figure out if I need to make another research trip to Indiana. I arrived home feeling energized and ready to do some real work.
But S arrived home with an awful ear infection, which made him miserable, which made C and me miserable. Luckily he is feeling much, much better. He can go back to school on Tuesday, which means I can get back into the groove of work.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Doctor Frustration
S has had a relapse, and I find myself somewhat frustrated with his doctor, whom I actually like a lot. Yesterday afternoon, he started running a fever again, and then he developed a rash. After a phone call to the nurse on-call (who was actually helpful for a change!) and one to my sister-in-law, who has 2 boys of her own, I determined that S likely had a sinus infection and could even have strep throat. I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't do anything about it until this morning as the doctor's office was already closed.
Skip ahead to 1:00 am. My baby boy wakes up screaming and is on fire. He had a temp of 104.2. I realize that isn't so high for a baby, but fevers scare me. My older brother had viral meningitis at 5 months old. He had a fever of 105 for over 24 hours before doctors were able to bring it down, and as a result, he is profoundly deaf. He leads a happy, productive life, but his "disability" (I hate that word, but I digress) is a result of a fever. Needless to say, I wanted to take S straight to the emergency room. Luckily C's cooler head prevailed. He convinced me to give S a dose of Motrin and wait 20 minutes; if the fever hadn't come down, he promised we would take him. The fever came down in 20 minutes, and S finally went back to sleep. We got him to the doctor first thing this morning, and he has a sinus infection. It seems his nasty cold (which he has had for almost 3 weeks) turned into a sinus infection.
I am frustrated with his doctor and my health insurance for several reasons. First, I don't feel like she listened to my concerns at his original appointment for the cold 3 weeks ago. That said, I know I am likely responding to my irritation and frustration at his being sick for so long. Lack of sleep probably doesn't help anyway. I'm irritated with my health insurance because I can only go to one clinic in town; none of the doctors in the practice (and they are all good doctors; I have few complaints about them) are on call after hours. If I have a question I have to call a nurse on-call. In the past, said nurse (it isn't always the same nurse) has been less than helpful and not at all reassuring. There are times I long for a practice that relies on an answering service. I want to leave a message and have a doctor call me back, especially if I think it is an emergency. My vet uses this method, but not my pediatrician. As I said, I was able to talk to a helpful nurse last night (only because I located a different phone number for the nurse on-call), and C was even able to get this nurse back on the phone when we had another question about an hour later. I could launch into a tirade about the poor health insurance graduate students have to put up with, but that isn't the case. I like my insurance, and I like our doctors. I hate the nurse on-call system. I'm hanging onto the "good" number and calling that one from now on. I'm so glad I've gotten into the habit of asking people their name because I plan to ask for the helpful nurse the next time I have to use the nurse on-call system.
Now S is happily playing, and I feel better knowing he feels better.
Skip ahead to 1:00 am. My baby boy wakes up screaming and is on fire. He had a temp of 104.2. I realize that isn't so high for a baby, but fevers scare me. My older brother had viral meningitis at 5 months old. He had a fever of 105 for over 24 hours before doctors were able to bring it down, and as a result, he is profoundly deaf. He leads a happy, productive life, but his "disability" (I hate that word, but I digress) is a result of a fever. Needless to say, I wanted to take S straight to the emergency room. Luckily C's cooler head prevailed. He convinced me to give S a dose of Motrin and wait 20 minutes; if the fever hadn't come down, he promised we would take him. The fever came down in 20 minutes, and S finally went back to sleep. We got him to the doctor first thing this morning, and he has a sinus infection. It seems his nasty cold (which he has had for almost 3 weeks) turned into a sinus infection.
I am frustrated with his doctor and my health insurance for several reasons. First, I don't feel like she listened to my concerns at his original appointment for the cold 3 weeks ago. That said, I know I am likely responding to my irritation and frustration at his being sick for so long. Lack of sleep probably doesn't help anyway. I'm irritated with my health insurance because I can only go to one clinic in town; none of the doctors in the practice (and they are all good doctors; I have few complaints about them) are on call after hours. If I have a question I have to call a nurse on-call. In the past, said nurse (it isn't always the same nurse) has been less than helpful and not at all reassuring. There are times I long for a practice that relies on an answering service. I want to leave a message and have a doctor call me back, especially if I think it is an emergency. My vet uses this method, but not my pediatrician. As I said, I was able to talk to a helpful nurse last night (only because I located a different phone number for the nurse on-call), and C was even able to get this nurse back on the phone when we had another question about an hour later. I could launch into a tirade about the poor health insurance graduate students have to put up with, but that isn't the case. I like my insurance, and I like our doctors. I hate the nurse on-call system. I'm hanging onto the "good" number and calling that one from now on. I'm so glad I've gotten into the habit of asking people their name because I plan to ask for the helpful nurse the next time I have to use the nurse on-call system.
Now S is happily playing, and I feel better knowing he feels better.
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