Right, so, as you can see, things were not moving along swimmingly. Thank God, Me-Wa had come down to stay with the children so we could go to the hospital. And now, here we were, sun-up, day's a'starting, and... oh, wow... *yawn* So tired. Me-Wa headed home. Zorak and I looked at each other and tried to focus long enough to figure out what to do.
John needed to see the dentist that morning to have a recalcitrant baby tooth forcibly removed. (He'd been waiting for this appointment for ages, and rescheduling with his dentist is hard, because his dentist is possibly the most coveted pediatric dentist in North America. So, when you can get it, you get in.) I needed to see the urologist. Both Zorak and I needed some rest. Neither of us had slept since Monday.
Zorak took John to the dentist and the kids to music.
I went to the urologist. He gave me a couple of prescriptions for oral antibiotics, and then a shot of Rosephin. Oh, holy mother of holy things! Even loaded with lidocaine, and administered by an amazingly skilled nurse, that is one Painful Everlovin' Shot! A week and a half later, I will still whimper and cry if you so much as look at my right hip. Is there no room for technology to perhaps take a look at this particular drug? I mean, I am thankful for it, but wowsa- it should come with a recommendation for a 3-week supply of cheap vodka and a leather thong to bite down on at random intervals. Ow.
Thursday (the 22nd), we recovered a bit. I think the kids played video games and ate leftovers. Not sure, and they haven't mentioned anything. So, *shrug* there's that.
Friday (the 23rd) - LB arrived!! The house was not ready, groceries not done, guest room only moderately put together (thankfully, Zorak pulled it off while I drove to the airport). But, you know, we'd lost Wednesday, which is when we were going to put it all together. She understood. And let me stop at WalMart for potatoes and a vacuum on the way home.
Saturday (the 24th) - mostly just picking up pre-surgery supplies and preparing for Jason's baptism.
Sunday (the 25th) - Baptised Jason. Camera still was not working, so we're waiting for pictures from others. I'll post them when I get them.
Monday/Tuesday (the 26-27), more preparation for the surgery, grocery shopping, going over the school schedule with LB, and finishing up the kids' Halloween costumes. James was the headless horseman; John, a Conquistador; Jake our latest Harry Potter; EmBaby put together a darling "butterfly princess" costume, all on her own; Jase was a soft-shelled turtle. (He had a darling turtle outfit, but would only wear it rarely.)
James' Webelos II Den finally had its Arrow of Light Ceremony. He's been attending the Boy Scout Troop, but is now officially recognized to call himself "A Boy Scout". Proud night for the kiddo. They also had the boys wear their costumes. All had a great time. Too much adorableness in one room, man. Just. Too. Cute.
And that night, we went to bed, ready as we were going to be for the big dental surgery. But that's another post.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Showing posts with label medical adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medical adventures. Show all posts
Sunday, November 1
Holy Mackerel!
Just when we thought we had it all under control, we got hit with the gentle (*snort*) reminder that we're not really at the helm. Sometimes I feel that if life came with an instruction manual, the "Quick Start User's Guide" would look something like this:
1. Kiss those babies
2. Say your prayers
3. Hold on tight
Obviously, there's more to it than that, but that's what it takes to get started, isn't it? And sometimes, to keep going.
We've got to back up a bit. Let's see, I got sick Sunday (the 18th). Thought it was nothing big. Nothing a little rest and some cranberry and water couldn't fix. Stayed home from church to pound the liquids. (Didn't help.)
Monday (the 19th), I thought I had cramps (sorry - no cute or euphemistic way to put it), and we learned we have what Melissa calls, "A Runner". Yep, we now have one that, given the chance, will bolt swiftly and silently, leaving the whole ball of wax for one glorious shot at freedom. Thankfully, he is safe and came to no harm. My knees still hurt just thinking of it. However, he is now on a lock-down the likes of which no child in this house has ever seen. He will probably never be allowed to watch Blade Runner, or Logan's Run until he moves out, or can explain where he's going. And we spent a harrowing week, holding our breath, keeping the house Company Clean, in fear of a visit from The Authorities. Adrenaline does wonders for pain relief, by the way.
Tuesday (the 20th), I realized I wasn't fighting a mild UTI and cramps, and started to worry that this was, perhaps, appendicitis. That's a scary thought. (It was a scary pain.) Nothing touched it - not asprin, not hot baths, not the gazillion gallons of water and cranberry I imbibed, not the hot pad, not massage; not walking, not laying, nor rocking nor crying. At that point, with the severity of the pain and the lack of relief, we called the nurse line and she recommended I be seen "within six hours". Blink Off to the ER, where I was diagnosed with, but not treated for, a rather severe kidney infection, and blood, most likely caused by a blockage. We're voting for "stone sludge", as whatever it was, it passed during the five-hour wait in the ER. Yes, FIVE HOURS. And yes, they had a sample. Oh. My. Word.
It seems that the confirmed presence of a raging infection (the lab was quick), a "9" on the pain scale (figure there's always room for it to hurt worse, right?), chills and swelling just don't cut the triage scale if you have somehow managed not to spike a fever. The poor Triage Nurse took my temperature every way she could think of, but there was no fever. No fever, no check mark. No check mark, no spot at the front of the line. She was very apologetic about it, and begged me to stay, because, obviously, there was something Very Wrong. But still, back to the lobby.
What's with that, anyway? Nevermind. I am currently trying not to think of the myriad reasons I had no fever. Just. Not. ThinkingAboutIt. If I'd known, however, that they would not give me antibiotics at the end of that wait, to be honest, I'd have gone home to writhe in the comfort of my own floor while waiting for the urologist's office to open. Away from the lady who likes to hang out in the ER, being obnoxious to other patients; away from the guy who came in for a cough; away from the three other guys who came in to hang out, catch a nap, and then move on. As it was, we got home a little after 7AM Wednesday morning, mildly re-hydrated and just a little bit stoned on pain killers.
Wednesday was supposed to be our Preparation Day. The day we washed the car, did the groceries, made up the guest room, finished the basement work, took the kids to music and did all the things one normally does on a Wednesday. Or something like that. Obviously, that's not how it went down. I'll fill you in on that, tomorrow. It just hasn't slowed down in the least.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
1. Kiss those babies
2. Say your prayers
3. Hold on tight
Obviously, there's more to it than that, but that's what it takes to get started, isn't it? And sometimes, to keep going.
We've got to back up a bit. Let's see, I got sick Sunday (the 18th). Thought it was nothing big. Nothing a little rest and some cranberry and water couldn't fix. Stayed home from church to pound the liquids. (Didn't help.)
Monday (the 19th), I thought I had cramps (sorry - no cute or euphemistic way to put it), and we learned we have what Melissa calls, "A Runner". Yep, we now have one that, given the chance, will bolt swiftly and silently, leaving the whole ball of wax for one glorious shot at freedom. Thankfully, he is safe and came to no harm. My knees still hurt just thinking of it. However, he is now on a lock-down the likes of which no child in this house has ever seen. He will probably never be allowed to watch Blade Runner, or Logan's Run until he moves out, or can explain where he's going. And we spent a harrowing week, holding our breath, keeping the house Company Clean, in fear of a visit from The Authorities. Adrenaline does wonders for pain relief, by the way.
Tuesday (the 20th), I realized I wasn't fighting a mild UTI and cramps, and started to worry that this was, perhaps, appendicitis. That's a scary thought. (It was a scary pain.) Nothing touched it - not asprin, not hot baths, not the gazillion gallons of water and cranberry I imbibed, not the hot pad, not massage; not walking, not laying, nor rocking nor crying. At that point, with the severity of the pain and the lack of relief, we called the nurse line and she recommended I be seen "within six hours". Blink Off to the ER, where I was diagnosed with, but not treated for, a rather severe kidney infection, and blood, most likely caused by a blockage. We're voting for "stone sludge", as whatever it was, it passed during the five-hour wait in the ER. Yes, FIVE HOURS. And yes, they had a sample. Oh. My. Word.
It seems that the confirmed presence of a raging infection (the lab was quick), a "9" on the pain scale (figure there's always room for it to hurt worse, right?), chills and swelling just don't cut the triage scale if you have somehow managed not to spike a fever. The poor Triage Nurse took my temperature every way she could think of, but there was no fever. No fever, no check mark. No check mark, no spot at the front of the line. She was very apologetic about it, and begged me to stay, because, obviously, there was something Very Wrong. But still, back to the lobby.
What's with that, anyway? Nevermind. I am currently trying not to think of the myriad reasons I had no fever. Just. Not. ThinkingAboutIt. If I'd known, however, that they would not give me antibiotics at the end of that wait, to be honest, I'd have gone home to writhe in the comfort of my own floor while waiting for the urologist's office to open. Away from the lady who likes to hang out in the ER, being obnoxious to other patients; away from the guy who came in for a cough; away from the three other guys who came in to hang out, catch a nap, and then move on. As it was, we got home a little after 7AM Wednesday morning, mildly re-hydrated and just a little bit stoned on pain killers.
Wednesday was supposed to be our Preparation Day. The day we washed the car, did the groceries, made up the guest room, finished the basement work, took the kids to music and did all the things one normally does on a Wednesday. Or something like that. Obviously, that's not how it went down. I'll fill you in on that, tomorrow. It just hasn't slowed down in the least.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, August 5
Not on Wednesdays!
We're not far from the dentist. We're not far from the music store. But the dentist and the music store are quite a trek from one another - the northeast corner of Huntsville down southwest, across the river, to the center of Decatur. And yet, in my head, Wednesdays are good days for scheduling appointments. In theory, we'll already be out of the house, so that's a good day. Maybe for other errands in the same town. But for the dentist? No. So, it was a long day.
This may have been the first visit we've had with no new cavities! The kids are completely un-impressed with the whole thing. I, however, am completely, idiotically ecstatic! We're talking irrationally tickled by such a little thing. It's been a good day, if only in my head.
We had lunch at a little blue plate diner in town before piano lessons. The kids have been dying to go. I'm not sure what's wrong with my children. Every time we eat at a restaurant where the food is mediocre, the service is questionable, and the cost is exorbitant (for the quality), they *RAVE* about it. Today was no exception, and they cannot wait to go back. Weee. (Erin, be ready. I'm sure they'll want to take the girls next time you all come out.)
After getting the car cleaned and filling up with gas, swinging by the bank, and the blowing off a couple of other stops we ought to have made, we got home just 15 minutes before Zorak today. Poor guy didn't get the homey welcome we shoot for. I've gotta go do the dishes. The kids are cleaning upground zero erm, the playroom. We have no clue what to do for supper.
But it doesn't matter, because not only do the kids not have new cavities, but I remembered today to schedule the next dental checkup for the kids on a Tuesday.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This may have been the first visit we've had with no new cavities! The kids are completely un-impressed with the whole thing. I, however, am completely, idiotically ecstatic! We're talking irrationally tickled by such a little thing. It's been a good day, if only in my head.
We had lunch at a little blue plate diner in town before piano lessons. The kids have been dying to go. I'm not sure what's wrong with my children. Every time we eat at a restaurant where the food is mediocre, the service is questionable, and the cost is exorbitant (for the quality), they *RAVE* about it. Today was no exception, and they cannot wait to go back. Weee. (Erin, be ready. I'm sure they'll want to take the girls next time you all come out.)
After getting the car cleaned and filling up with gas, swinging by the bank, and the blowing off a couple of other stops we ought to have made, we got home just 15 minutes before Zorak today. Poor guy didn't get the homey welcome we shoot for. I've gotta go do the dishes. The kids are cleaning up
But it doesn't matter, because not only do the kids not have new cavities, but I remembered today to schedule the next dental checkup for the kids on a Tuesday.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, July 1
Rest is Overrated, Anyway
I should have cleaned last night.
James exploded. Head-to-toe, he is covered in hives. Or hive-like things. Nobody's sure. At first, we thought it was just mosquito bites. He had a handful of welts on his waistline. They looked pretty much just like the bites we all get from being in the garden or the yard. So, we put a little After Bite on them, he got dressed, and went to Scouts.
When Zorak picked up the boys from Scouts, he said the welts had absolutely blossomed in the hour or so they were there. Now, I don't know if he exploded after the meeting -- between dismissal and when he hit the parking lot? -- or if it happened during the meeting and nobody noticed (or felt the need to call a parent with a friendly, "Hey, your child is blistering up like he's gone ten rounds with stinging nettle and blister beetles. You might want to come get him.") I have no idea what took place. This is the first time we've dropped them off without one of us staying, and this happens. Argh. His face was swollen and covered in what looked like dry blisters or just big welts, and not an inch on his neck was visible beneath the welts. His arms looked positively scarred. I cannot fathom how nobody noticed.
We figured, OK, this is an allergic reaction to... Something. Gave him Benadryl, put him in the shower, then tanked him up on water. No improvement. More Benadryl. More water. Didn't get better, but he didn't get worse. He had no fever, no swelling other than his cheeks, no fatigue, no cramps, no trouble breathing or swallowing. At that point, just a nasty, welty-looking rash. Get a good night's rest, and certainly you'll feel better in the morning.
Well, just pass that Lousy Parenting Trophy this way, please. He awoke this morning looking worse than before. And by then, he was fatigued and tired and starting to look a little puffy. I threw him in a cool baking soda bath and called the doc, who made a spot for us on the instant. Juggle-call-finagle, and we were out the door, (thinking, as we toodled down our little farm roads that this is one of those time it'd be great to live in town. With neighbors right-there. Ah, well.)
The doc said, "Looks like he is allergic to... something." (Good to know we were on the right track, at least.) Got scripts for anti-histamines and steroids, cracked 'roid jokes in the waiting room, came home and collapsed. That did the trick. Two hours later, he looked markedly better.
Two hours ago, he relapsed. Blew right the hell up. Started a low-grade fever. And started wheezing, because evidently the whole thing lacked that little something extra that really makes for a fun adventure.
The doc said he'd meet us at the ER tonight if James' breathing gets worse (or the other list of symptoms that make the ER The Place To Be). Otherwise, he'll see us first thing in the morning.
Cool compresses helped a bit. So did a massive water push. There's nothing left we can give him, though, and that's pretty darned frustrating. He's not wheezing now, and when we put him to bed, his breathing was back to normal, but you can tell he's wiped out.
Zorak went to the market to get snacks. We'll tag-team tonight to keep an eye on him. But we're hoping that tomorrow, it will all be a weird fluke. And then, we're going to nap like narcoleptics at a relaxation seminar.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
James exploded. Head-to-toe, he is covered in hives. Or hive-like things. Nobody's sure. At first, we thought it was just mosquito bites. He had a handful of welts on his waistline. They looked pretty much just like the bites we all get from being in the garden or the yard. So, we put a little After Bite on them, he got dressed, and went to Scouts.
When Zorak picked up the boys from Scouts, he said the welts had absolutely blossomed in the hour or so they were there. Now, I don't know if he exploded after the meeting -- between dismissal and when he hit the parking lot? -- or if it happened during the meeting and nobody noticed (or felt the need to call a parent with a friendly, "Hey, your child is blistering up like he's gone ten rounds with stinging nettle and blister beetles. You might want to come get him.") I have no idea what took place. This is the first time we've dropped them off without one of us staying, and this happens. Argh. His face was swollen and covered in what looked like dry blisters or just big welts, and not an inch on his neck was visible beneath the welts. His arms looked positively scarred. I cannot fathom how nobody noticed.
We figured, OK, this is an allergic reaction to... Something. Gave him Benadryl, put him in the shower, then tanked him up on water. No improvement. More Benadryl. More water. Didn't get better, but he didn't get worse. He had no fever, no swelling other than his cheeks, no fatigue, no cramps, no trouble breathing or swallowing. At that point, just a nasty, welty-looking rash. Get a good night's rest, and certainly you'll feel better in the morning.
Well, just pass that Lousy Parenting Trophy this way, please. He awoke this morning looking worse than before. And by then, he was fatigued and tired and starting to look a little puffy. I threw him in a cool baking soda bath and called the doc, who made a spot for us on the instant. Juggle-call-finagle, and we were out the door, (thinking, as we toodled down our little farm roads that this is one of those time it'd be great to live in town. With neighbors right-there. Ah, well.)
The doc said, "Looks like he is allergic to... something." (Good to know we were on the right track, at least.) Got scripts for anti-histamines and steroids, cracked 'roid jokes in the waiting room, came home and collapsed. That did the trick. Two hours later, he looked markedly better.
Two hours ago, he relapsed. Blew right the hell up. Started a low-grade fever. And started wheezing, because evidently the whole thing lacked that little something extra that really makes for a fun adventure.
The doc said he'd meet us at the ER tonight if James' breathing gets worse (or the other list of symptoms that make the ER The Place To Be). Otherwise, he'll see us first thing in the morning.
Cool compresses helped a bit. So did a massive water push. There's nothing left we can give him, though, and that's pretty darned frustrating. He's not wheezing now, and when we put him to bed, his breathing was back to normal, but you can tell he's wiped out.
Zorak went to the market to get snacks. We'll tag-team tonight to keep an eye on him. But we're hoping that tomorrow, it will all be a weird fluke. And then, we're going to nap like narcoleptics at a relaxation seminar.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, June 30
It's Over!
I hope.
Had the surgery this morning to knock out the rest of the Death Star. This time through was a whole different ball of wax, on a few levels. Instead of being out for four hours, I was only out for one. Less bleeding, less pain, less nausea. Good-bye Joe? Oh, I hope!
The staff at Huntsville Hospital was fantastic, so that was the same. (I did get the lady again who refuses to use the word "urinate". She's very nice, and I'm sure she's quite capable. However, I'm also rather glad that they put her at the end of your stay, as the repeated use of the word, "pee-pee" just doesn't instill confidence.) Really, my only gripe about Huntsville Hospital is that it's not horribly clean. But the nurses are amazing. My doc is phenomenal. The receptionists and techs, everybody, really, is just great. Even pee-pee lady. And the doc prefers to use that one, because their Astroid-Shooter (as James calls it) is better than the one at Crestwood. All in all, good stuff.
Got home and crashed. The boys made me lemonade, since they know that's recommended for kidney stones. I'm so spoiled.
The Bigs had Scouts tonight, so Zorak took all five children, kicked the Bigs off at their meeting, and took the Littles to the park. So sweet. (And it is SO quiet.) It's wonderful to have the house so peaceful while I'm waiting for the meds to kick in! (Did I mention how spoiled I am? It's wonderful.)
Just... trying to fight the urge to clean. I haven't been alone in the house in ages, and it's so, so tempting. Must fight it. I guess I'll go read blogs for a bit. If I leave a loopy comment on yours, please forgive me. I'll try to get off the computer before it gets too bad.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Had the surgery this morning to knock out the rest of the Death Star. This time through was a whole different ball of wax, on a few levels. Instead of being out for four hours, I was only out for one. Less bleeding, less pain, less nausea. Good-bye Joe? Oh, I hope!
The staff at Huntsville Hospital was fantastic, so that was the same. (I did get the lady again who refuses to use the word "urinate". She's very nice, and I'm sure she's quite capable. However, I'm also rather glad that they put her at the end of your stay, as the repeated use of the word, "pee-pee" just doesn't instill confidence.) Really, my only gripe about Huntsville Hospital is that it's not horribly clean. But the nurses are amazing. My doc is phenomenal. The receptionists and techs, everybody, really, is just great. Even pee-pee lady. And the doc prefers to use that one, because their Astroid-Shooter (as James calls it) is better than the one at Crestwood. All in all, good stuff.
Got home and crashed. The boys made me lemonade, since they know that's recommended for kidney stones. I'm so spoiled.
The Bigs had Scouts tonight, so Zorak took all five children, kicked the Bigs off at their meeting, and took the Littles to the park. So sweet. (And it is SO quiet.) It's wonderful to have the house so peaceful while I'm waiting for the meds to kick in! (Did I mention how spoiled I am? It's wonderful.)
Just... trying to fight the urge to clean. I haven't been alone in the house in ages, and it's so, so tempting. Must fight it. I guess I'll go read blogs for a bit. If I leave a loopy comment on yours, please forgive me. I'll try to get off the computer before it gets too bad.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, March 29
There Went That Week
I was going to upload photos from the camera, which I haven't done since March 7th, thinking there'd be some great stuff to post, just for fun, so I wouldn't have to think of anything to say. I've only taken 46 pictures since the last upload! That's my new, official litmus test of my own mental state of being. (Normal is 800.) Obviously, we're in desperate need of a (lil) sumfin around here!
So this is the week, as I'd have written it in a cute little diary with a pink heart and a lock that didn't work b/c I'd have lost the key and had to pry the stoopid thing open at one point:
Wed, we called in the pros. They took John and EmBaby. Strep. Shots. Oral antibiotics. John was a model patient. Emily decided to perform a spontaneous impression of a rampaging chimpanzee. It was a good impression. John asked if he could wait in another room, where it's quieter. I told him there was no way he was leaving me alone with her. He laughed, but I suspect he will exact revenge when I least expect it. Ice Cream for All.
Thursday, blessedly, the local pre-season tournament was cancelled. I saw my Doc in the morning, switched him out a box of rocks for a new Rx. Yay. Half of the kidney stone is still in there, intact, floating menacingly about like the Death Star. Go back in July and we'll do it, again.
That afternoon, the kids' doctor saw James, Smidge, and Jase. No Strep, but a lovely and diverse variety of other infections (sinus, upper respiratory, and ear). Shot, shot, shot. DANG. More antibiotic prescriptions. Lady at the pharmacy starting to eyeball the Suburban a bit... More Ice Cream.
Friday, New House Rule: nobody make eye contact, nobody touch an-Y-thing... Crap, Em's eye is red and swollen. Looks like she scratched it during the altercation, erm, I mean, doctor's visit. (I will pay for my own childhood through this animated Precious Moments child.) Call the doc again. He'll see her Saturday morning, when I bring James and Jase in for their *second* antibiotic shots. Yeah, I didn't mention that, on purpose, the first time. I'm still a little queasy.
Saturday, it is a testament to the wonderful nature of our children that we did not have to spend Saturday morning trudging through the woods, trying to find them. If I'd known I'd have to go back for another one of those long-needled, intra-muscular shots, my mother would've had to keep me on house arrest, with a shock collar, to keep me from running off. Our kids rock. And baffle me. But I am thankful for them.
By some miracle of prayer, or fear, or whatever it takes, EmBaby did not freak out at the doctor's this time. Maybe she thought if she held very still, they couldn't find her? I had a cat that lived by that principle, so it could be possible. Anyway, no shot for her (just the boys). It's a scratch on Em's eye. She got a prescription for eye drops. The pharmacy lady seemed to be writing down my license plate number today.
I'm thinking perhaps we'll use different pharmacies at some point. Maybe each child can have his own pharmacy?
In the meantime, I'm trying to keep up, but... I'm bad at this. The laundry, alone, is about to kill me. And let's not even talk about my new OCD issue: contaminated cups!
But we're now two whole days, fever-free. Go us! (rolling eyes) I know. It's all I've got, though, for now.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
So this is the week, as I'd have written it in a cute little diary with a pink heart and a lock that didn't work b/c I'd have lost the key and had to pry the stoopid thing open at one point:
Wed, we called in the pros. They took John and EmBaby. Strep. Shots. Oral antibiotics. John was a model patient. Emily decided to perform a spontaneous impression of a rampaging chimpanzee. It was a good impression. John asked if he could wait in another room, where it's quieter. I told him there was no way he was leaving me alone with her. He laughed, but I suspect he will exact revenge when I least expect it. Ice Cream for All.
Thursday, blessedly, the local pre-season tournament was cancelled. I saw my Doc in the morning, switched him out a box of rocks for a new Rx. Yay. Half of the kidney stone is still in there, intact, floating menacingly about like the Death Star. Go back in July and we'll do it, again.
That afternoon, the kids' doctor saw James, Smidge, and Jase. No Strep, but a lovely and diverse variety of other infections (sinus, upper respiratory, and ear). Shot, shot, shot. DANG. More antibiotic prescriptions. Lady at the pharmacy starting to eyeball the Suburban a bit... More Ice Cream.
Friday, New House Rule: nobody make eye contact, nobody touch an-Y-thing... Crap, Em's eye is red and swollen. Looks like she scratched it during the altercation, erm, I mean, doctor's visit. (I will pay for my own childhood through this animated Precious Moments child.) Call the doc again. He'll see her Saturday morning, when I bring James and Jase in for their *second* antibiotic shots. Yeah, I didn't mention that, on purpose, the first time. I'm still a little queasy.
Saturday, it is a testament to the wonderful nature of our children that we did not have to spend Saturday morning trudging through the woods, trying to find them. If I'd known I'd have to go back for another one of those long-needled, intra-muscular shots, my mother would've had to keep me on house arrest, with a shock collar, to keep me from running off. Our kids rock. And baffle me. But I am thankful for them.
By some miracle of prayer, or fear, or whatever it takes, EmBaby did not freak out at the doctor's this time. Maybe she thought if she held very still, they couldn't find her? I had a cat that lived by that principle, so it could be possible. Anyway, no shot for her (just the boys). It's a scratch on Em's eye. She got a prescription for eye drops. The pharmacy lady seemed to be writing down my license plate number today.
I'm thinking perhaps we'll use different pharmacies at some point. Maybe each child can have his own pharmacy?
In the meantime, I'm trying to keep up, but... I'm bad at this. The laundry, alone, is about to kill me. And let's not even talk about my new OCD issue: contaminated cups!
Isthatyours? Wherewasit? Justgetanewone. ACK!The dishes! I am mentally repeating, "Do not crawl under the bed. Do not crawl under the bed." Not only will it not help me get this house back under control, I haven't vacuumed under there and that could cause further trauma.
But we're now two whole days, fever-free. Go us! (rolling eyes) I know. It's all I've got, though, for now.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, March 23
I don't want what he had!
We have all fallen to whatever John had 10 days ago. Yuck. It sneaks up on you, if you're not paying attention (and really, we don't pay attention). For a day or two, you're just not firing on all cylinders. Then, *BAM*, you get a high fever that doesn't respond well to medicine. That takes you down for about about 24 hours, then you're left with a residual cough.
John still has the cough. Jase, Em, Jake and I have had the fever since yesterday. Blech. Zorak isn't sure if he's over the hump, or gearing up (he doesn't pay attention, either). James went down this afternoon.
The Cubmaster said he and his family had that same thing about three weeks ago. Looks like it's making the rounds! So we've quarantined ourselves for as long as there's a fever in the house. I hope we're fever-free in time for the Blue and Gold Banquet!
Meanwhile, the boys have fallen head-over-heels for Retro TV programming. John loves Magnum P.I. James adores Knight Rider, and feels quite firmly that Magnum's Ferrari has nothing on KITT.
Jake, Em, and Jase are just snugglers. Hot, sweaty snugglers. I'm so glad there are two parents, because when one of us is sick, too, it's SO nice to have someone else at least make sure nobody starves.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
John still has the cough. Jase, Em, Jake and I have had the fever since yesterday. Blech. Zorak isn't sure if he's over the hump, or gearing up (he doesn't pay attention, either). James went down this afternoon.
The Cubmaster said he and his family had that same thing about three weeks ago. Looks like it's making the rounds! So we've quarantined ourselves for as long as there's a fever in the house. I hope we're fever-free in time for the Blue and Gold Banquet!
Meanwhile, the boys have fallen head-over-heels for Retro TV programming. John loves Magnum P.I. James adores Knight Rider, and feels quite firmly that Magnum's Ferrari has nothing on KITT.
Jake, Em, and Jase are just snugglers. Hot, sweaty snugglers. I'm so glad there are two parents, because when one of us is sick, too, it's SO nice to have someone else at least make sure nobody starves.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, March 13
Friday Night Fun
Well, I offered to let Zorak pound on my kidney ("percussion therapy" - about as much fun as it sounds) while we watched a movie. Then I could fall asleep, he could finish watching it, and he could fill me in tomorrow on whether it was worth staying up for. He declined. Huh. Tell me the romance isn't dead. (I know. It's not always this bad, for either of us. Just been a long week.)
John's down with something viral. It hit him hard this morning, and he's been out of commission all day. James and I tore the kitchen apart, looking desperately for the Emergen-C, both of us wild-eyed and panicky. We. Cannot. Get. This. ACK!
On a side note -- It's kind of cool to have a child who is old enough to understand the fear, and to help, rather than just feel put out that his/her brother gets to have a drink. with a straw. in bed. Big Picture, here, guys - they do, eventually, get it.
We saw the doc this evening, and the doc said keep pushing liquids and rest. Not strep; nothing in the ears, sinus, chest, or throat; doesn't look flu-ish. Call tomorrow to touch base. If he's not better by Monday, we'll do a blood draw and figure out what's going on.
There are SO many things I love about the kids' doctor. His waiting room is a malarial hell, but he is worth the risk. He wants the parent to stay in the room. He stays open until late in the evening (doesn't open early - I'm guessing he is among us night owls, and how awesome that he can operate on hours that work for him, no? Hey, if he's a better doctor after eleven in the morning, I'm glad he knows his limits!) He's very thorough, but also fairly non-interventionist. He listens - not just to the patient and parent, but he listens to the child's body. It's wild to watch him work. Totally focused, listening, feeling, sorting. Skin tone, color, flush... sounds... just, it's hard to explain. The whole body comes into play when he's doing an exam. I get a kick out of him. And I trust him with my children.
So, no baseball clinic tonight. No Pinewood Derby tomorrow. John is disappointed, but true to his generous nature, all he's said was that he's sorry he won't be able to go. No fits. No drama. I owe God, big-time, for giving me this sweet, gracious, understanding child. (I was not such a good kid. This would have been a fit and a pity party of gigantic proportions, when I was eight. He must get it from Zorak.)
Come to think of it, I owe a big thanks for Zorak, too. He had chili ready when we got home. With homemade sopapillas, and lemonade.
And now, to bed. Or else they'll all be up at five and we'll be bleary-eyed and disoriented. That's never a good combination.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
John's down with something viral. It hit him hard this morning, and he's been out of commission all day. James and I tore the kitchen apart, looking desperately for the Emergen-C, both of us wild-eyed and panicky. We. Cannot. Get. This. ACK!
On a side note -- It's kind of cool to have a child who is old enough to understand the fear, and to help, rather than just feel put out that his/her brother gets to have a drink. with a straw. in bed. Big Picture, here, guys - they do, eventually, get it.
We saw the doc this evening, and the doc said keep pushing liquids and rest. Not strep; nothing in the ears, sinus, chest, or throat; doesn't look flu-ish. Call tomorrow to touch base. If he's not better by Monday, we'll do a blood draw and figure out what's going on.
There are SO many things I love about the kids' doctor. His waiting room is a malarial hell, but he is worth the risk. He wants the parent to stay in the room. He stays open until late in the evening (doesn't open early - I'm guessing he is among us night owls, and how awesome that he can operate on hours that work for him, no? Hey, if he's a better doctor after eleven in the morning, I'm glad he knows his limits!) He's very thorough, but also fairly non-interventionist. He listens - not just to the patient and parent, but he listens to the child's body. It's wild to watch him work. Totally focused, listening, feeling, sorting. Skin tone, color, flush... sounds... just, it's hard to explain. The whole body comes into play when he's doing an exam. I get a kick out of him. And I trust him with my children.
So, no baseball clinic tonight. No Pinewood Derby tomorrow. John is disappointed, but true to his generous nature, all he's said was that he's sorry he won't be able to go. No fits. No drama. I owe God, big-time, for giving me this sweet, gracious, understanding child. (I was not such a good kid. This would have been a fit and a pity party of gigantic proportions, when I was eight. He must get it from Zorak.)
Come to think of it, I owe a big thanks for Zorak, too. He had chili ready when we got home. With homemade sopapillas, and lemonade.
And now, to bed. Or else they'll all be up at five and we'll be bleary-eyed and disoriented. That's never a good combination.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, March 9
Goodbye Joe.
I'm back. (This is cross-posted from FB, so if it looks familiar, it's because I'm plagiarizing myself.)
I feel surprisingly good, although I have three little hickey marks on my "flank" (could they not come up w/ a Latin term for that???). It looks like I've been attacked by a three-fanged vampire. Or a toddler with a coffee stirrer/straw.
It wasn't bad. But I think they put in a trach tube, b/c I woke up w/ waxy stuff all over my face and my throat feels like I've had strep for a month. GAH. A little heads up on that would have been MUCH appreciated.
Didn't get to keep the panties on. Mildly mortifying. However, I was instantly distracted by the fact that they have heated hospital gowns now! How COOL is that? Do you have ANY idea how tempted I was to try to smuggle one out w/ me? Or how hard I'm trying to figure out if I can rig my hair dryer to do the same thing w/ one of those snuggie things? Man, that was nice. And they let me keep my wool socks on, so I didn't whine.
U-doc seems optimistic that they got it all broken down small enough to pass. It took some doing, though, and we were in there longer than anticipated. I think that's why there are three marks - they just kept moving and shooting. I wish I was awake for it, b/c a) I think that would've been fascinating, and b) I wonder if he acts like he's playing Astroids when he's doing it. (I probably would.)
I'm down a total of ten pounds, now. This is not the way to do this. And lemme tell you, having not eaten since Thursday evening, I am REALLY looking forward to supper!! (Less so, since my throat hurts, but like that's going to stop me.)
Got home to a trashed house, and as we all know, I just cannot relax in squalor. (Live in it? Sure. Relax in it? Nope.) So I sent the kids to play video games. Sent Zorak out to work on the balcony. And I cleaned. Ran the dishwasher, tidied the living room, took a Zofran (kind of like Phenergan, but a little stronger), did some laundry, cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor. Then I got the boys loaded for b-ball, took a pain killer (in the Percocet family, yay!), and sat my happy butt down here to play.
If the pain meds don't make me loopy, I'll go to the ball park here in a bit to relieve Zorak. (Jake has practice from 4-5, then batting practice from 5-6; John has practice from 5:30-7 - at some point, somebody's going to have to come home.)
As for what happens next, I'd just better not run out of pain meds before it's all said and done. Other than that, I'm just trying not to think about it. Or think about having to pee in a strainer. The boys thought it was hilarious when I pointed out that this thing had better not end up in the kitchen OR the sand box, thankyouverymuch.
Thank you for your humor, your thoughtful words, and your prayers.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I feel surprisingly good, although I have three little hickey marks on my "flank" (could they not come up w/ a Latin term for that???). It looks like I've been attacked by a three-fanged vampire. Or a toddler with a coffee stirrer/straw.
It wasn't bad. But I think they put in a trach tube, b/c I woke up w/ waxy stuff all over my face and my throat feels like I've had strep for a month. GAH. A little heads up on that would have been MUCH appreciated.
Didn't get to keep the panties on. Mildly mortifying. However, I was instantly distracted by the fact that they have heated hospital gowns now! How COOL is that? Do you have ANY idea how tempted I was to try to smuggle one out w/ me? Or how hard I'm trying to figure out if I can rig my hair dryer to do the same thing w/ one of those snuggie things? Man, that was nice. And they let me keep my wool socks on, so I didn't whine.
U-doc seems optimistic that they got it all broken down small enough to pass. It took some doing, though, and we were in there longer than anticipated. I think that's why there are three marks - they just kept moving and shooting. I wish I was awake for it, b/c a) I think that would've been fascinating, and b) I wonder if he acts like he's playing Astroids when he's doing it. (I probably would.)
I'm down a total of ten pounds, now. This is not the way to do this. And lemme tell you, having not eaten since Thursday evening, I am REALLY looking forward to supper!! (Less so, since my throat hurts, but like that's going to stop me.)
Got home to a trashed house, and as we all know, I just cannot relax in squalor. (Live in it? Sure. Relax in it? Nope.) So I sent the kids to play video games. Sent Zorak out to work on the balcony. And I cleaned. Ran the dishwasher, tidied the living room, took a Zofran (kind of like Phenergan, but a little stronger), did some laundry, cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor. Then I got the boys loaded for b-ball, took a pain killer (in the Percocet family, yay!), and sat my happy butt down here to play.
If the pain meds don't make me loopy, I'll go to the ball park here in a bit to relieve Zorak. (Jake has practice from 4-5, then batting practice from 5-6; John has practice from 5:30-7 - at some point, somebody's going to have to come home.)
As for what happens next, I'd just better not run out of pain meds before it's all said and done. Other than that, I'm just trying not to think about it. Or think about having to pee in a strainer. The boys thought it was hilarious when I pointed out that this thing had better not end up in the kitchen OR the sand box, thankyouverymuch.
Thank you for your humor, your thoughtful words, and your prayers.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, March 8
Behind The Scenes
Man, it's hard to make codeine interesting. Then, just as I was thinking there was nothing worth sharing at this point in the process, I got to pre-register over the phone. And BADABING, I hit the motherlode!
The absolute BEST piece of medical advice I have received thus far?
I gotta tell you, that's a heads-up worth getting, isn't it? If the gown and the fluorescent lighting isn't enough to come to terms with, just imagine getting hit with, "Oh, and we'll need you to remove your undergarments, please." Yeah, right before they knock you out. Fun!
Turns out, synthetics can cause a spark during the lithotripsy procedure, thus raising the potential for a fire in the lab. Really, I stopped listening at that point. Who needs more motivation to check the tags for that 100% cotton mark than the fear of having the fire department called in to douse your butt?
I also got the rest of the low-down on "Being Prepared". It looks *nothing* like the Boy Scout manual.
Shower and wash your hair the morning of your procedure, but don't use any hair product. No lotions, creams or salves. No makeup. No nail polish, jewelry, or accessories. I get most of the restrictions, but then it hit me - the real reason behind these guidelines.
Remember years back when there was a spate of doctors taking inappropriate advantage of patients who were under general anesthesia? Yep. This pretty much guarantees that you will look as unappealing as you. will. Ever. look. while you're under. Ain't nobody gonna wanna get near the damp, scaly, pale iguana dumped on that exam table!
And so, I'm off to divest myself of any remaining bling, and then to bed. Tomorrow we beat the tar out of "Joe". Yay!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The absolute BEST piece of medical advice I have received thus far?
If you want any hope of being able to keep your panties on, make sure they are 100% cotton.
I gotta tell you, that's a heads-up worth getting, isn't it? If the gown and the fluorescent lighting isn't enough to come to terms with, just imagine getting hit with, "Oh, and we'll need you to remove your undergarments, please." Yeah, right before they knock you out. Fun!
Turns out, synthetics can cause a spark during the lithotripsy procedure, thus raising the potential for a fire in the lab. Really, I stopped listening at that point. Who needs more motivation to check the tags for that 100% cotton mark than the fear of having the fire department called in to douse your butt?
I also got the rest of the low-down on "Being Prepared". It looks *nothing* like the Boy Scout manual.
Shower and wash your hair the morning of your procedure, but don't use any hair product. No lotions, creams or salves. No makeup. No nail polish, jewelry, or accessories. I get most of the restrictions, but then it hit me - the real reason behind these guidelines.
Remember years back when there was a spate of doctors taking inappropriate advantage of patients who were under general anesthesia? Yep. This pretty much guarantees that you will look as unappealing as you. will. Ever. look. while you're under. Ain't nobody gonna wanna get near the damp, scaly, pale iguana dumped on that exam table!
And so, I'm off to divest myself of any remaining bling, and then to bed. Tomorrow we beat the tar out of "Joe". Yay!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, March 6
Medical Update
Not nearly as cute as the kids, sorry. I had an impacted wisdom tooth extracted this morning. For some heinous reason, the oral surgeon gave me codeine rather than one of the lovely -cet drugs (percocet, darvocet, you know, the Good Ones). I slept through that part, or I'd have asked him why. Anyway, I've fasted for testing four times in the last two weeks, have lost five pounds, and I am ravenous.
But now that I can eat, I can't keep anything down, not even the Phenergan. I swear, when this is all over, I am going to park my rear at Barnhills Fry-For-All Buffet and refuse to leave until they run out of food.
Had the follow-up for my C/T Scan on Thursday. In the sage words of the N-doc, "It is what it is."
Yep, it's a kidney stone. A huge, honkin', wedged-in-there-tightly stone. We discussed options: live with it, monitor it, and wait until it causes infections or blockages to do something *insert furrowed brow and tilted head, here*, OR (my favorite) see a Urologist about breaking it up to get it out.
Luckily, the Urologist (who we will call the U-doc) had an opening for 1:30 that same day. Yay. I met with him, and told him that while Joe is not a source of constant pain, I would rather evict him now than allow the little squatter to wreck my pad. So to speak. The actual wording was more along the lines of, "Are there any drawbacks to performing a lithotripsy at this stage?"
He said it's borderline for the lithotripsy to work (should have been referred to him sooner), and may actually take two procedures, but that would most definitely be his recommendation. As in, post-haste. As in, can you come to the surgery center Monday morning? We talked shop a bit. Made arrangements. Got a list of foods to avoid, and picked up the magnesium citrate for Sunday.
The irony of trying to remineralize my bone density after weaning, while fasting for tests, and avoiding all the foods that will remineralize bone density is not lost on me. It'll be funny later. Right now, not so much.
On the drive home, I was just so very thankful to be able to address this now, when *my* reason and logic have more bearing on my own medical decisions than those of a central board. An oversight committee would have looked at my doctor's report (nothing wrong here) and the radiologist's report (nothing wrong here) and determined that there was nothing wrong here and I was, quite simply, a troublemaker; appeal denied.
It's not fiscally plausible to cater to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who thinks the professionals are wrong. Two or three of those on file, and you're looking at a recommend for a psych eval. Dang. But that's where we'll be in a very short time, once we have Centralized Health Care put in place.
So, yeah, we're going to be in debt for another couple of years. But I'll be in debt with two good kidneys, at least. And a team of doctors who will listen to what I have to say and work with me, rather than focusing on how I saw the images, or where I got the idea that having something in my kidney is a bad thing.
I'm going to go see if I can slip another Phenergan down without my body noticing. And then, get some rest.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
But now that I can eat, I can't keep anything down, not even the Phenergan. I swear, when this is all over, I am going to park my rear at Barnhills Fry-For-All Buffet and refuse to leave until they run out of food.
Had the follow-up for my C/T Scan on Thursday. In the sage words of the N-doc, "It is what it is."
Yep, it's a kidney stone. A huge, honkin', wedged-in-there-tightly stone. We discussed options: live with it, monitor it, and wait until it causes infections or blockages to do something *insert furrowed brow and tilted head, here*, OR (my favorite) see a Urologist about breaking it up to get it out.
Luckily, the Urologist (who we will call the U-doc) had an opening for 1:30 that same day. Yay. I met with him, and told him that while Joe is not a source of constant pain, I would rather evict him now than allow the little squatter to wreck my pad. So to speak. The actual wording was more along the lines of, "Are there any drawbacks to performing a lithotripsy at this stage?"
He said it's borderline for the lithotripsy to work (should have been referred to him sooner), and may actually take two procedures, but that would most definitely be his recommendation. As in, post-haste. As in, can you come to the surgery center Monday morning? We talked shop a bit. Made arrangements. Got a list of foods to avoid, and picked up the magnesium citrate for Sunday.
The irony of trying to remineralize my bone density after weaning, while fasting for tests, and avoiding all the foods that will remineralize bone density is not lost on me. It'll be funny later. Right now, not so much.
On the drive home, I was just so very thankful to be able to address this now, when *my* reason and logic have more bearing on my own medical decisions than those of a central board. An oversight committee would have looked at my doctor's report (nothing wrong here) and the radiologist's report (nothing wrong here) and determined that there was nothing wrong here and I was, quite simply, a troublemaker; appeal denied.
It's not fiscally plausible to cater to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who thinks the professionals are wrong. Two or three of those on file, and you're looking at a recommend for a psych eval. Dang. But that's where we'll be in a very short time, once we have Centralized Health Care put in place.
So, yeah, we're going to be in debt for another couple of years. But I'll be in debt with two good kidneys, at least. And a team of doctors who will listen to what I have to say and work with me, rather than focusing on how I saw the images, or where I got the idea that having something in my kidney is a bad thing.
I'm going to go see if I can slip another Phenergan down without my body noticing. And then, get some rest.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, February 23
And now, the rest of the story.
(Sorry for the delay. Zorak beat me to the computer last night, and I couldn't outlast the Medal of Honor combat.) So, picking up the story...
This morning, I left the kids with LB. They were having a beautiful breakfast, planning feats of artistic creation that are best performed when I am not home.
I picked up the ultrasound films and headed to the appointment. Small mix-up with the scheduling. They told me ten. They wrote down down eleven. Then, I actually got there early (it's a new thing I'm trying - not panning out so well, to be honest), so that made for a lot of sitting and mocking of the various sales propaganda. (Hey, Baxter makes a large variety of dialysis machines, but they don't seem to know squat about diet, other than, "food and drink are the primary causes of waste". Aren't ya glad you asked? Oh, you didn't ask. OK, nevermind. Moving on, then.)
In a nutshell:
The N-Doc (Nephrologist, but N-Doc is shorter and catchier) asked me to fill him in, because he could not make any sense out of ex-Doc's notes. (His words. I swear I am not projecting.) So, I filled him in on the ongoing pain, my tendency to compartmentalize (aka: ignore) pain, the fear-of-cancer that spurred me to go in, our relief at finding it's not cancer, and our current frustration that ex-Doc refuses to listen to my concerns regarding Life, the Universe, and Everything. (Or, more specifically, the pain, the kidney, and the ultrasound.)
N-Doc looked at the radiologist report. He asked to see the films. He took one look and had no trouble finding The Thing That Isn't There. He said, without fear of reprisal, "Well, that looks nothing like nephrocalcinosis! That looks like a huge stone. Or two stones. Or, I don't know what, because it is in an odd place for stones. But it is definitely NOT nephrocalcinosis." (And yes, the report said "nephrocalcinosis", not "nephrosis", which is what ex-Doc had said it was.)
As a matter of fact, he was surprised to find that the radiologist's report bears no resemblance whatsoever to the images on the film, other than that it's about kidney. And both have my name at the top. (The film, not the kidney. Although that might not be a bad idea...)
He agrees that we need to know a few things:
A) What is that?
B) Why am I making things like that?
C) What can we do to make it stop?
D) Is there anything else in there that might indicate a pattern?
He said the fact that it's unilateral is odd, for stones, considering the sheer mass of the thing (or things - he wants to find out more on that end, too). The placement is odd, for anything. The size is "impressive", according to him, and when I said I really had no desire to pass something that size on my own, he snorted and said, "Oh, you couldn't. I can tell you that, right now."
All of the things I suggested to ex-Doc, which she poo-poo'd and blew off, and accused me of making things up? Yeah, he brought them up on his own:
A) 24-hour urine test to determine the makeup of whatever that is
B) Dietary modifications, if/as indicated by further test results
C) Um... oh yeah, further tests
I go in for a C/T scan tomorrow, so we can get a better picture of Joe (KathyJo named it for me). And then I have the following week to just enjoy the kids, the family, the friends, and the weather before my follow-up consultation. But there will be a follow-up consultation! Yay!
Just another reminder that we've got to pay attention. We've got to be willing to educate ourselves about anything we might come in contact with. And we've got to keep going until we get answers -- clear, upfront, above board answers.
THANK YOU, all for your continued thoughts and prayers. For your words of encouragement and kindness. I can't tell you how much that meant.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This morning, I left the kids with LB. They were having a beautiful breakfast, planning feats of artistic creation that are best performed when I am not home.
I picked up the ultrasound films and headed to the appointment. Small mix-up with the scheduling. They told me ten. They wrote down down eleven. Then, I actually got there early (it's a new thing I'm trying - not panning out so well, to be honest), so that made for a lot of sitting and mocking of the various sales propaganda. (Hey, Baxter makes a large variety of dialysis machines, but they don't seem to know squat about diet, other than, "food and drink are the primary causes of waste". Aren't ya glad you asked? Oh, you didn't ask. OK, nevermind. Moving on, then.)
In a nutshell:
The N-Doc (Nephrologist, but N-Doc is shorter and catchier) asked me to fill him in, because he could not make any sense out of ex-Doc's notes. (His words. I swear I am not projecting.) So, I filled him in on the ongoing pain, my tendency to compartmentalize (aka: ignore) pain, the fear-of-cancer that spurred me to go in, our relief at finding it's not cancer, and our current frustration that ex-Doc refuses to listen to my concerns regarding Life, the Universe, and Everything. (Or, more specifically, the pain, the kidney, and the ultrasound.)
N-Doc looked at the radiologist report. He asked to see the films. He took one look and had no trouble finding The Thing That Isn't There. He said, without fear of reprisal, "Well, that looks nothing like nephrocalcinosis! That looks like a huge stone. Or two stones. Or, I don't know what, because it is in an odd place for stones. But it is definitely NOT nephrocalcinosis." (And yes, the report said "nephrocalcinosis", not "nephrosis", which is what ex-Doc had said it was.)
As a matter of fact, he was surprised to find that the radiologist's report bears no resemblance whatsoever to the images on the film, other than that it's about kidney. And both have my name at the top. (The film, not the kidney. Although that might not be a bad idea...)
He agrees that we need to know a few things:
A) What is that?
B) Why am I making things like that?
C) What can we do to make it stop?
D) Is there anything else in there that might indicate a pattern?
He said the fact that it's unilateral is odd, for stones, considering the sheer mass of the thing (or things - he wants to find out more on that end, too). The placement is odd, for anything. The size is "impressive", according to him, and when I said I really had no desire to pass something that size on my own, he snorted and said, "Oh, you couldn't. I can tell you that, right now."
All of the things I suggested to ex-Doc, which she poo-poo'd and blew off, and accused me of making things up? Yeah, he brought them up on his own:
A) 24-hour urine test to determine the makeup of whatever that is
B) Dietary modifications, if/as indicated by further test results
C) Um... oh yeah, further tests
I go in for a C/T scan tomorrow, so we can get a better picture of Joe (KathyJo named it for me). And then I have the following week to just enjoy the kids, the family, the friends, and the weather before my follow-up consultation. But there will be a follow-up consultation! Yay!
Just another reminder that we've got to pay attention. We've got to be willing to educate ourselves about anything we might come in contact with. And we've got to keep going until we get answers -- clear, upfront, above board answers.
THANK YOU, all for your continued thoughts and prayers. For your words of encouragement and kindness. I can't tell you how much that meant.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Hookay.
I thought I'd blogged more after this post, but before this post. Obviously, the brain is the, um, *counting in my head* third? thing to go.
The visit with my (soon to be ex-)Doc on the 12th did not go well. The Doc says:
OK, that very last sentence is a paraphrase. But not by much. And the rest are direct quotes. According to her, I was making a mountain out of less than a molehill. Her plan? Wait for an obstruction -- that will probably not come -- and then just do emergency surgery. Obviously, I found that prospect unacceptable.
I also took issue with the assumption that someone has any place to "allow" me to see my own innerds. If I recall correctly, I gave *them* permission to take a peek. But I don't have to ask leave to look, and God help the first person to try to stand in the way. In this case, my impertinence may well have saved a kidney from a long, ugly demise.
So. In order to placate me (much the way she placated me by ordering the ultrasound in the first place, when I refused to accept her off-the-cuff diagnosis that the pain is gallbladder), she sent me to a Nephrologist for a second opinion. I actually tried to get out of going to see him because of the way she worded the referral. It was like she was giving a buddy a head's up that she needed a backup for her alibi. Not encouraging.
And this is where it gets weird.
I emailed a friend to ask who her DH (who is a dr.) would send her to in this situation. Never heard back from her.
I left a message for my midwife, asking for information on a doc she might recommend. Never heard back from her.
My pastor's wife talked with her doctor, who she used to work for, to see if he would see me. He's not taking new patients.
Every avenue we tried to take was blocked.
By last night, I was a bit manic. So, I prayed for calm, for strength and grace, for wisdom and fortitude, for kindness tempered with a good dose of pig-headdedness. And I accepted that, lacking any other options, I would, in fact, be seeing this guy in the morning. *poof* Total calm.
As if God were saying, "Well, yes, that is what I had planned, thanks."
This morning, I gathered my notes, my cross-references, kissed the babies and headed out to pick up my films...
I've got to get supper on, and I'll finish this after that's done.
The visit with my (soon to be ex-)Doc on the 12th did not go well. The Doc says:
All is well. Nothing wrong here. Nothing to see here. Don't know what the pain is, but it's not that. Oh, and that isn't anything. It's nephrosis. Which is nothing. Don't know why that kidney is bigger. Or what you're talking about with this "thing" that's in there, because there is nothing in there. NO, I haven't seen the films. Why would I? I'm not a radiologist. How did you see this thing you're saying is in there? Who let you see it? You're not qualified to see that, and of course you're frightened, but you're wrong. You're obviously nuts.
OK, that very last sentence is a paraphrase. But not by much. And the rest are direct quotes. According to her, I was making a mountain out of less than a molehill. Her plan? Wait for an obstruction -- that will probably not come -- and then just do emergency surgery. Obviously, I found that prospect unacceptable.
I also took issue with the assumption that someone has any place to "allow" me to see my own innerds. If I recall correctly, I gave *them* permission to take a peek. But I don't have to ask leave to look, and God help the first person to try to stand in the way. In this case, my impertinence may well have saved a kidney from a long, ugly demise.
So. In order to placate me (much the way she placated me by ordering the ultrasound in the first place, when I refused to accept her off-the-cuff diagnosis that the pain is gallbladder), she sent me to a Nephrologist for a second opinion. I actually tried to get out of going to see him because of the way she worded the referral. It was like she was giving a buddy a head's up that she needed a backup for her alibi. Not encouraging.
And this is where it gets weird.
I emailed a friend to ask who her DH (who is a dr.) would send her to in this situation. Never heard back from her.
I left a message for my midwife, asking for information on a doc she might recommend. Never heard back from her.
My pastor's wife talked with her doctor, who she used to work for, to see if he would see me. He's not taking new patients.
Every avenue we tried to take was blocked.
By last night, I was a bit manic. So, I prayed for calm, for strength and grace, for wisdom and fortitude, for kindness tempered with a good dose of pig-headdedness. And I accepted that, lacking any other options, I would, in fact, be seeing this guy in the morning. *poof* Total calm.
As if God were saying, "Well, yes, that is what I had planned, thanks."
This morning, I gathered my notes, my cross-references, kissed the babies and headed out to pick up my films...
I've got to get supper on, and I'll finish this after that's done.
Sunday, February 22
So Busy!
Oh, my. Well, my camera has developed some form of ADHD (auto deficiency hyperactive digital... something-or-other) and 99% of the pictures we've taken are fuzzy and/or grainy. WAH.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, February 12
Domestic Miscellany
I love that phrase. It fits so much of my life. *grin*
I found the copy of John's birth certificate that we've used for baseball the last two years. It's not a "certified" copy, but they've taken it for two years, so, *shrug* it'll work. And Smidge's new one is scheduled to be delivered today. Of course. I have to be at the doc's at eleven, and I think that's about when the UPS lady comes. I'll try leaving her a note, but since it requires a signature, I don't think that'll work. However, I did email the nice-lady-who-doesn't-like-me (she's in charge of all things paperwork, so I can't blame her for not liking me a whole lot), and told her of the situation. She gave me a reprieve until the 21st to get Smidge's cert. to her. Yay! Sometime before Saturday, we can go sign our lives over for this Spring and Summer to the Community Recreation Association! Happy Boys!
Now, to put the house back together. *ack*
I'm hoping Amy will do another Weekend Warrior thing. This is just the perfect time of year for it, and I am, evidently, a child, who needs somebody to promise to put my project up on her fridge, because these projects really motivate me to get things done. Or, more accurately, to get things done in a timely manner. Good stuff.
This weekend, I want to hang art on the walls. Or, again, to be more accurate, I want to hang *things* on the walls. We don't have much art. Zorak and I haven't found anything yet that we both like, and as quiet as he is, he will speak up about putting Ugly Things on the walls. (It's a good thing - I'd hang some seriously atrocious things, just because they make me smile.) However, we do have a few nice pieces that we both agree on. And we have pictures of People We Love, which always makes me smile. So. That's this weekend's plan.
And now, we are off to see the Doc. Hopefully, this will go well. I do have feelers out for another doctor. There are a couple of Naturopaths there, but, as with much of Alabama law, their practice is limited in scope. For our protection, and all that. bah. I won't get started. I won't get started. I won't... which means, I should probably go, now.
Gotta round up the wee ones and find all the shoes! Have a splendid day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I found the copy of John's birth certificate that we've used for baseball the last two years. It's not a "certified" copy, but they've taken it for two years, so, *shrug* it'll work. And Smidge's new one is scheduled to be delivered today. Of course. I have to be at the doc's at eleven, and I think that's about when the UPS lady comes. I'll try leaving her a note, but since it requires a signature, I don't think that'll work. However, I did email the nice-lady-who-doesn't-like-me (she's in charge of all things paperwork, so I can't blame her for not liking me a whole lot), and told her of the situation. She gave me a reprieve until the 21st to get Smidge's cert. to her. Yay! Sometime before Saturday, we can go sign our lives over for this Spring and Summer to the Community Recreation Association! Happy Boys!
Now, to put the house back together. *ack*
I'm hoping Amy will do another Weekend Warrior thing. This is just the perfect time of year for it, and I am, evidently, a child, who needs somebody to promise to put my project up on her fridge, because these projects really motivate me to get things done. Or, more accurately, to get things done in a timely manner. Good stuff.
This weekend, I want to hang art on the walls. Or, again, to be more accurate, I want to hang *things* on the walls. We don't have much art. Zorak and I haven't found anything yet that we both like, and as quiet as he is, he will speak up about putting Ugly Things on the walls. (It's a good thing - I'd hang some seriously atrocious things, just because they make me smile.) However, we do have a few nice pieces that we both agree on. And we have pictures of People We Love, which always makes me smile. So. That's this weekend's plan.
And now, we are off to see the Doc. Hopefully, this will go well. I do have feelers out for another doctor. There are a couple of Naturopaths there, but, as with much of Alabama law, their practice is limited in scope. For our protection, and all that. bah. I won't get started. I won't get started. I won't... which means, I should probably go, now.
Gotta round up the wee ones and find all the shoes! Have a splendid day!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, February 11
Documents and Care
I'm here. Actually, I've been in the basement, sorting papers, looking for birth certificates. But nobody was willing to drop food and coffee down the stairs, so I had to come back up. Found one. Have two official copies ordered. No clue where the second one may be.
I plan to look into the mail order bride thing and see if there isn't someone who would be willing to come just as a personal assistant and doesn't really require marriage. That might be handy.
I called my doc to see if I could get in to see her this week, rather than waiting until the 20th. My thought was that I'd like to be proactive about the stone the u/s found in my kidney. The conversation was a bit odd. She started off by telling me that everything looked absolutely perfect. No problems at all.
*blink* What about the kidney stone?
What stone? What tests did you have done?
We sorted that out. She called the lab, which hadn't faxed the results of the bone density or the u/s back yet. Then she called me back.
**************************
Nurse: There is no stone. You're perfectly healthy. You don't need to come in.
Me: Well, what's that large mass in my kidney?
Nurse: That's just a calcium deposit. It's nothing you need to worry about.
Me: What's the difference between a stone and a calcium deposit?
Nurse: Well, it's not a stone. Really, this is nothing to worry about, at all.
Me: So a calcium deposit of that size won't impair renal function?
Nurse: Not yet.
Me: *I am screaming in my head, but not on the phone.* Well, won't it have to come out, at some point?
Nurse: I don't know why you're upsetting yourself over this. It's nothing. I've spoken with the doctor about this, and it is absolutely nothing. You just have that. And a simple cyst.
Me: *thinking I do not want to look up "kidney" and "cyst" on Google...* A what? A cyst? On my kidney?
Nurse: Yes. It's nothing. You don't need to come in earlier than your appointment. *tsk* Honestly *deep exhalation* Where ARE you getting your information from?
Me: So what does The Doctor say might be causing my pain, since absolutely everything else looks completely healthy and clear?
Nurse: Oh, we don't know what that could be.
Me: You don't think it could be that, um, calcium deposit?
Nurse: No. Not at all.
Me: You know, that's fantastic news. But, uh, I think I'd like to talk to Dr. D about all this, anyway. You know, just to make sure we're all on the same page.
*************************
So, I go in Thursday, but the nurse isn't happy about it. And I'm trying to figure out the best way to get a copy of the u/s to take to someone else. Because if I have a long-lost twin living in my kidney, I'd like to know.
And the best I can figure, a 1cm "calcium deposit" sounds an awful lot like something more than nothing. I know I'm not a doctor, or even a radiologist. But I also know that anything that large that shows up that clearly from *inside* an organ that ought not have solid things lodged in it probably isn't "nothing".
I'm not worked up, but I am also not feeling overly confident in my current doctor, who is, to be perfectly honest, probably busy being torqued that my bone density test didn't come back with full-blown osteoporosis. Because that means her argument that I am - quite obviously - an osseous sponge (because I nurse my babies longer than six months - her words) just might not be exactly it.
And that's... about it, this week. Documents and Care. I need more time playing with the kids. They're a lot more interesting and a whole lot more fun.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I plan to look into the mail order bride thing and see if there isn't someone who would be willing to come just as a personal assistant and doesn't really require marriage. That might be handy.
I called my doc to see if I could get in to see her this week, rather than waiting until the 20th. My thought was that I'd like to be proactive about the stone the u/s found in my kidney. The conversation was a bit odd. She started off by telling me that everything looked absolutely perfect. No problems at all.
*blink* What about the kidney stone?
What stone? What tests did you have done?
We sorted that out. She called the lab, which hadn't faxed the results of the bone density or the u/s back yet. Then she called me back.
**************************
Nurse: There is no stone. You're perfectly healthy. You don't need to come in.
Me: Well, what's that large mass in my kidney?
Nurse: That's just a calcium deposit. It's nothing you need to worry about.
Me: What's the difference between a stone and a calcium deposit?
Nurse: Well, it's not a stone. Really, this is nothing to worry about, at all.
Me: So a calcium deposit of that size won't impair renal function?
Nurse: Not yet.
Me: *I am screaming in my head, but not on the phone.* Well, won't it have to come out, at some point?
Nurse: I don't know why you're upsetting yourself over this. It's nothing. I've spoken with the doctor about this, and it is absolutely nothing. You just have that. And a simple cyst.
Me: *thinking I do not want to look up "kidney" and "cyst" on Google...* A what? A cyst? On my kidney?
Nurse: Yes. It's nothing. You don't need to come in earlier than your appointment. *tsk* Honestly *deep exhalation* Where ARE you getting your information from?
Me: So what does The Doctor say might be causing my pain, since absolutely everything else looks completely healthy and clear?
Nurse: Oh, we don't know what that could be.
Me: You don't think it could be that, um, calcium deposit?
Nurse: No. Not at all.
Me: You know, that's fantastic news. But, uh, I think I'd like to talk to Dr. D about all this, anyway. You know, just to make sure we're all on the same page.
*************************
So, I go in Thursday, but the nurse isn't happy about it. And I'm trying to figure out the best way to get a copy of the u/s to take to someone else. Because if I have a long-lost twin living in my kidney, I'd like to know.
And the best I can figure, a 1cm "calcium deposit" sounds an awful lot like something more than nothing. I know I'm not a doctor, or even a radiologist. But I also know that anything that large that shows up that clearly from *inside* an organ that ought not have solid things lodged in it probably isn't "nothing".
I'm not worked up, but I am also not feeling overly confident in my current doctor, who is, to be perfectly honest, probably busy being torqued that my bone density test didn't come back with full-blown osteoporosis. Because that means her argument that I am - quite obviously - an osseous sponge (because I nurse my babies longer than six months - her words) just might not be exactly it.
And that's... about it, this week. Documents and Care. I need more time playing with the kids. They're a lot more interesting and a whole lot more fun.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
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