auntbijou: (Death)
I wish I was a whiner, because right now, ooooo, I'd be so whiny, everyone would be sick of me!

*sigh*

Okay so... last week, the virus. First Mr. Impossible, then Miss Impertinent, then me. Impossible had it until Wednesday, and went back to school on Thursday. Impertinence got it Monday afternoon and had it until Saturday. I took Impossible in to the doctor on Monday, and Impertinence on Friday. No visit for me because, well... you know how it is. Besides, it was a virus, not much to do but grin and bear it, yeah?

I took the Impertinent One in on Friday though, because we were actually starting to worry, judging by her limp noodleness and the fact she was so damn quiet, that she had... MONO... AGAIN.

*shudders at the thought*

The doctor said, "If you're still feeling like this on Monday, I'll have to run a mono panel on you."

I think she scared the Impertinent Daughter into getting better!

Okay, so... Sunday, it was hot and so the kids invited a couple of friends over and had the Epic Water Balloon Fight of Doom. Somewhere in there, a galvanized tub had been filled with water for splashing purposes, and for some crazy reason known only to another ten year old (and thus not to someone as old as, say, me) the Impossible Son lifted up that tub full of water and lost his grip so that it smashed down on his big toe.

*cries*

It is nicely purple and swollen. It got iced down and at the time, we thought it was just badly bruised because he could wiggle it and bend it. This, of course, was before he went on a field trip to San Antonio on Monday, and before a kid in his class said, "I don't believe you really hurt your toe," and... stomped on Mr. Impossible's foot.

No, I am not a happy camper. And yes, I am calling the school.

Anyhow, by last night, he was in tears, so, I called our doctor, who has his own X-ray machine, and made an appointment. And got teased about our very frequent appearances. I had to laugh, though, when one of the receptionists told me they were thinking about painting, "Reserved for Auntie's Family" above one of the exam room doors.

I said they should give me frequent flyer miles instead!

So, he was examined and X-rayed, and they'll be sent to a radiologist, but so far, they don't think his toe is broken.

The only thing is... there's only, what, six more weeks of school? And I'm working on something I might actually get paid for, but there's a deadline, and I thought, well, I have all of May to work on it...

*bangs head into wall*

GAAAAAAHHHH!!! And then... and then... and then... the Impertinent One just texted me, "Mom, my throat hurts, can you come get me??"

NO! NO, NO, NO!! BECAUSE I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU START SUMMER VACATION SIX WEEKS EARLY!! NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!

*wails*

And the cats are stalking me because I need to buy more cat food, and I desperately need to go grocery shopping, but I can't, because Mr. Impossible is supposed to stay off his foot, and I'M ABOUT TO LOSE MY MIND!!!

I just need time to write, and just... get it done, and hello, universe, please to start cooperating with me? Because I really, really can't take more of this, really. Seriously. Stop it now. Now. Stop it.

*self medicates with chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate*

NOOOOOOO!!!!

Monday, April 25th, 2011 07:42 am
auntbijou: (Kirk duh what??)
The Impossible Son woke up with temperature of 100.3, and now it's 101.4!

SHRIIIIIEEEEEEEKKKK!!!!

He just finished the antibiotic for his Ear Infection of Doom on Saturday. And he's got his first TAKS test tomorrow!!!

*tears out hair*

This is the third time in as many weeks!! WTF???? Hello, Universe? STOP IT!! NOW!!
auntbijou: made by <lj comm=lvlwings_icons> (Delicious Hot Schmoes!)
Well, what a very intense two weeks it's been! Let's see... the Impertinent Daughter got cleated in the ankle during a game four weeks ago, and has never gotten better, despite rest (okay, as much rest as you can force on an active 14 year old), ice, and ibuprofen. So, I took her to our regular doctor, who immediately benched her and after reviewing x-rays, determined that while there were no stress fractures, she needed to see an orthopedic specialist.

In the meantime, soccer season opened for the recreation league on Saturday, so the Impossible Son had his first game. And it was cold, extremely windy, and a brief shower. Which meant we were cold, wet, and miserable at first. It only rained for maybe 8 minutes, but it managed to soak me from the knees down, and the wind blew it up under the hem of my jeans and completely soaked the ankles of my wool socks, which then seeped down into my shoes. Mr. Impossible was soaked through to his Under Armour cold gear and was shivering, even after I shoved his hoodie on him, yes, I literally shoved it on him because he didn't want to wear it!. The Husbandly One, being such a Killer Macho Dude, chose to acknowledge that it was chilly by wearing jeans instead of shorts, and only wore his light coach's shirt instead of putting on a jacket. Needless to say, he spent a great deal of time either rubbing his hands together, shoving them into his pockets while hunching, or shivering.

*insert eye-roll here*

Mr. Impossible started off as a forward, but seemed to slow down more and more as the first half went on. And the kid the coach had chosen to play goalie had never played it before and had all the attention span of a gnat, so he only noticed a ball coming into the goalbox after it got shot in. So, 5 goals later, she switched out GnatMan with Mr. Impossible.

Of course, after the game, we found out why he wasn't playing like himself. He changed clothes, curled up on the couch to play his DS, then came to me an hour later saying, "Mom, I have a headache." The next thing we knew, he was hotter than a baked potato. I stuck a thermometer in him and whoa, it was 102 F!!!

An hour after that, I was peering into his throat and wondering just how the hell he was breathing, because his tonsils were so swollen, they were almost touching! And everything in there was bright red! Hello, Benadryl!! I was pretty sure at that point our old friend Steve, the Strep Bug, had made yet another visit to our home.

So, Monday rolls around. Monday was the day the Impertinent One was supposed to go to the orthopedic doctor. So, bright and early, I started calling our regular doctor to get Mr. Impossible in because, yes, still sick, with the added attraction of a lovely bumpy rash covering his stomach, groin, and back. WOO-HOO!!!

They couldn't get him in until 1:30.

Miss Priss had an appointment in San Marcos at 3.

Oh, yeah, THAT was fun!

Dose Impossible with Benadryl for itching, run to freshman campus to pick up Impertinent, take both to Dr. W. here in town. Sit in the waiting room, twitching and looking at time, thinking, "I have to be out of here at least by 2:30 to be even close to not being late." Finally get in, they swab his throat, and he's so positive for strep, the tester starts changing the second they put the swab in the medium. So, I called the ortho, Dr. S, told him what was going on and said, "Okay, so... do I bring her in with Impossible in tow, or do we cancel and make another appointment?"

I hear a brief flurry of conversation in the background, and then he says, "Bring her in, but your son needs to have a mask on, and if you've got hand cleaner, use it!"

So that meant a swing by the pharmacy to pick up a small package of masks, and turn in Impossible's prescription, and I love my pharmacy, because they let me grab what I needed and not pay for it until I was back in town.

Dr. S, after an extremely paranoid look at my son, poked and prodded Impertinent's ankle and peered at the x-rays, and confirmed no breaks, no stress fractures... it was a badly sprained ankle that hadn't been allowed to heal, and he gave her a very stern look at that. She's off athletics for four weeks, and she's to go for physical therapy during that time. Seems the ligaments and tendons in her ankle are loose and need to be built back up and if she doesn't do it now, she'll be chronically prone to injuries in that ankle.

*sigh*

When we finally got home, I was ready to collapse. Two nights of little to no sleep, and then all of that? Yeah, I was wiped!

The Impossible Son went back to school today, and I'm hoping like heck the rash he has now is still from strep, and not because he's developed an allergy to the antibiotic he's on. And I'm hoping like heck I didn't get it from him, because I've got a fever and I haven't had a chance to buy new toothbrushes yet.

Oh, and the high school soccer team had their last game last night, which Miss Impertinent could not play in, and it was killing her to have to sit on the bench and have the coach turn to her, about to put her in, and remember that she couldn't play... she was not a happy camper when she came home after.

I need to call the therapy center today to set her up and get her started. And email her coach again about starting her on Pilates.

I think I'll be incredibly stubborn and just refuse to get sick. That'll work, right?

*falls face-first into bed*
auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
The Husbandly One is in San Marcos having sinus surgery...

... and I'm here at home, because the Impertinent Daughter is running a fever with a very sore throat!

The agony of being pulled in two directions at once... AAAAUUGHH!!!
auntbijou: (icon by <lj user="odyssey">)
Last night, the Husbandly One had his very own Wheezy. Namely me.

I woke up around 1 a.m. after a very disturbing dream about trying to get out of a very dark, very dusty house. Every time I took a step, clouds of thick, suffocating dust kept blowing up in my face, and I would try to breath, covering my face with my shirt, but it would fill my throat and start choking me, and I would struggle to breathe, and I couldn't find my way out at all! I kept bumping into things, more clouds of dust, more suffocating, until I woke up and realized that I was having a very hard time breathing.

Y'all... I haven't done that in YEARS! Not since I gave up feather pillows!

THO always wakes up when I do, he's such a light sleeper, and I guess I must have been mumbling and coughing in my sleep, too. I got up and used my inhaler, and tried to lay back down to go back to sleep but... nope. Seriously, I came very close to telling the Husbandly One to call the Tall Blonde to come sit with the kids so he could take me to the hospital in San Marcos. Thank goodness for water and Benadryl!

I guess I sat up for two hours or so, wishing very much that we had a recliner for me to sleep in (sometimes, when my asthma's acting up, I can't lay down to sleep), but finally, my medications were working and I crawled back in next to my cuddly THO and went back to sleep.

So, I wasn't really all that surprised to hit KVUE's weather page and find out that the cedar pollen count has exploded, and the humidity has dropped dramatically. In fact, we're under a red flag until tomorrow night for fire danger. Whoopee.

And yes, I have been a very good Auntie today and taken my medicine and stayed in bed, reading and playing the new Kingdom Hearts game on my little DS Lite, drinking lots of water, and all that stuff. Do I sound grumpy? I am!

Oh, and just to complicate things... the Impertinent Daughter may have mono... AGAIN. Yes, you can get it more than once. Once you have mono, the virus stays in your body forever, just like the chicken pox virus does. And it can reactivate. We won't know for sure until Monday, when her mono-panel comes back. Goodie.

It's just, she's been Limp Noodle Girl since Monday. I mean, seriously, guys, she's gone from running 2 miles every other day in her athletics class at school, and then racing around like the little terror she is with her brother after school, to curling up on the couch and falling asleep, or curling up in my bed to read or watch movies... and doing nothing else!! It was a very abrupt change. She's pale, and losing weight, too, because she just doesn't feel like eating.

Don't y'all feel sorry for the Husbandly One right now? Of course, he's got us both where he can keep an eye on us, so I know he's enjoying THAT part, but still... *laughs* Send him sympathy, y'all, he's got two high-maintenance Southern gals on his hands, neither of whom enjoy being still for long periods... and he's got to keep them both entertained!!

I just hope he comes through it with his sanity intact!!

ETA: I should probably mention that the Impossible Son has gone to spend the night with a friend tonight, so he has escaped the House of Limp Noodle Women at least until tomorrow!
auntbijou: (Calcifer)
I have discovered yet another of the consequences of my "lost summer."

I spent a good twenty minutes hauling multiple plastic containers out of my fridge and seriously grossing out over their contents before tossing them into the garbage. YUCK!!! Several of them seemed to have burgeoning populations of possible intelligence, because I swear some of them waved at me just before I chucked them in the trash. And I'm not even sure what half of the food was (I'm not sure I want to know, to tell you the truth!), because most of it was unlabeled, though I was rather horrified to discover a few that did have names and dates written across the top, by me back in June!.

*shudders*

Poor THO, trying so hard to keep up with everything while I was incapacitated. Though even when I'm my usual bouncy self, he doesn't label the leftovers before they go into the fridge. And he teases me about my habit of doing that, though he refuses to eat anything in a container that isn't labeled. Which might explain the amount of containers with nasty science experiments in my fridge!

See, a couple of years ago, I got tired of pulling out plastic containers of food in the fridge and having to go to THO and say, "What is this? How old is this? I mean, when did it go in the fridge/we last have this, etc, etc." And I also got tired of say, heating up a container of what I thought was spaghetti sauce for lunch, dumping it over freshly cooked noodles, and then discovering that it was Slow Jalopy (Sloppy Joe) sauce. Not bad, but a pretty nasty shock when you're expecting spaghetti sauce!

I had discovered by accident (because of the kids) that dry erase marker on plastic containers rubs off easily. So, I started keeping a dry erase marker in the cabinet, and every time I put away leftovers from dinner (or lunch), I slap the top on, then write something like, "Slow Jalopy, 08-25-09" on it, then pop it in the fridge. No more mystery, no more sniffing dubious contents and trying to guess what it is and if it's still edible.

The few tummy troubles we've ever had greatly decreased after I started doing that!

And though THO teases me about it mercilessly sometimes, saying I'm being all anal about it, or very obsessive compulsive... he refuses to eat anything that isn't labeled. *rolls eyes* This drives me nuts, as he refuses to label anything!!

In other news, I saw the doctor yesterday for my face to face. The node in my lung? Turns out it's on the right side, not the left. It might be scarring from the bouts of pneumonia I've gone through over the last three years, but they're not sure. What bothered my doctor, and she showed me the lab sheet, was that the radiologist who read the CT recommended I get another scan... in one to two years!! She said she wasn't comfortable with that, and wanted me to go in six months. The nodule is only half a centimeter now. If it's still half a centimeter in six months, very likely it's scar tissue. If not, well, we'll deal with that when it comes.

However, when I asked the results of the rest of my lab work, she blinked and went through my file, then said, "What lab work?" Then, before I could say anything, she went back to the day she'd ordered the CT scan and frowned. "Wait... where's the paperwork for your bloodwork?"

She had to hunt down the flaky nurse who had called me and make her look for it, then came back muttering under her breath about "three strikes being fucking over," and "that's it, no more," before she sat down and started looking it over. And then she boggled and said, "When did you last see the endocrinologist?"

"May," I said.

So she went to look at his report, and her boggle got bigger, and she frowned, and said, "Your TSH(thyroid stimulating hormone) was at 3.0 in May, which was a little high, but you were doing so well that he decided to keep it there. However, two weeks ago, your TSH dropped. Dramatically." And she pointed at it.

And I boggled. Because it said, "0.1."

What does that mean? It means... too much thyroid hormone, meaning something wonky is going on with my thyroid... again.

So, she decreased the dosage of my medication, and I am going to call the endocrinologist to get in A.S.A.P. to see what needs to be done.

Because I'm telling you, I am so friggin' tired of this. I mean, Tuesday, I went grocery shopping, and it was a big shop because, well, I've been sick and unable to do it all summer, right? So, I was basically playing catch-up, and went fully intending to do my usual lightning fast grocery shop. I had my list, I know where everything is in the store, no kids with me to slow me down, it's very much veni, vidi, vici, grocery-style!

But Tuesday... not so much. Tuesday, what usually takes me an hour and a half, tops, took me... nearly three hours. I barely had enough time when I was done to run home, throw all the cold stuff in the fridge, and race to pick up the kids. As it was, I was ten minutes late to pick up the Impossible Son, which upset him greatly. Not because he didn't think I was coming, because he knows I will always come get him, but because I hadn't called the school to send him a message about it. Which I always do if I am running late for any reason.

At least I had him and Miss Priss to help me put the rest of the groceries away after!

The irony in all this is that the Asthma Monster has been abnormally quiet since the near pneumonia in June, knock on wood, and on that front... I'm doing great! And my heart's been behaving well, too, which is... unusual, but hey, I'll roll with it! Now if we can just get the rest of me to cooperate, things will be just peachy!!

Here we go... again...

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009 11:30 pm
auntbijou: (Calcifer)
Okay, so... I finally got in to see the doctor today. Seems I'm not the only allergy suffering patient he has who is absolutely miserable right now. And [profile] vicki_sine, the antibiotics I was on was a 5 day Z-pack that was finished by Monday, the 15th, so that wasn't what was causing my itching. It was something I had gotten into in the backyard, methinks, because once I got a shower, it got better.

Anyhow, I went in to see the doc and... I now have a rattle in, you guessed it, the left lung. It's always that damn left lung. I'm telling you guys, if that left lung would just get with the program, I'd be fine!! But no, it keeps getting suspicious rattles, and clicks and squeaks... personally, I think a family of gerbils has taken up residence in there, but the X-rays don't bear me out, so... *shrugs*

The end result is, I have a nice little case of bronchitis going, so the doc threatened me with Levaquin, which is a big, scary antibiotic where I'm concerned because, while it tends to work and clear out my lungs, it also happens to knock me flat and make me as week as a two day old kitten. Think... Noodle Auntie. So, when I acted appropriately cowed, the doctor instead put me on another Z-pack for five days, as well as adding an extremely low dose of oral prednisone for five days (because the five day Medrol pack actually ends up making me feel worse) and putting me back on an asthma medication that I had taken back when we lived in a house full of toxic mold (though we knew it not).

And at a larger dosage.

In other words, she's throwing all the big guns at me, probably because that rattle sounds worse than she's letting on. I also had some bloodwork done, which was ... not fun. But that's another story.

However, I did get a clue as to why I'm feeling so crummy when I went in to the pharmacy to get my prescriptions filled. Mr. B, the pharmacist, said, "Well, to tell you the truth, Auntie, ever since I noticed the farmers plowing their corn under, I've been expecting you to come in for new meds. And you're not the only one."

Yeah. The local farmers are plowing under the corn and the milo, because it is just completely burned up. Most of the corn didn't even get a chance to set ears before they started burning up. It ain't nothin' but stalks. Even the cotton, which loves hot weather, is showing the effects. Normally, it doesn't bloom till it's about hip high. It's barely knee high... and it's blooming now. And not as many blooms as you'd like to see, too.

Did I mention it was 105 F here today? That's 40.5 to those of you who measure by Celsius. In other words, hotter'n a skillet in a bonfire!

So, with the plowing under, there's dust, mold, and goodness knows what else in the air. Which means one unhappy Auntie. And also an unhappy Impertinent Daughter and Impossible Son, because Auntie pretty much has to stay put, though the doctor didn't put me on bed rest this time, per se... she just said, "Get as much rest as you can," but she didn't specify WHERE.

Think I can get off on a technicality?

*flinches from the massive collective glare from her f-list*

Okay, okay, you win, you win!!

Auntie will behave!!

*sigh*

Hey, anybody watching "I Survived a Japanese Gameshow"? OMG, that show is AWESOME!!! And hilarious!! In tonight's episode, I particularly enjoyed when a female contestant, after having been soaked in lotion and oil, had to slither across the half naked bodies of several sumo wrestlers all laying on their backs in order to place a torch in a stand and put on a medal, then slither back over them and finish an obstacle course. OMG!! And when she grabbed one of the sumo wrestlers' very apparent bulge as a handle to help herself along, then realized what she had grabbed?? *dies laughing* I wonder if he's managed to get his eyes back into his head yet?

*dies laughing all over again*
auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Okay, on top of the low grade fever... now I'm itching something fierce!! Just took the last of the Benadryl and hope whatever it is slows down until tomorrow morning, when I can call the doctor.

My arms, legs, back, cheeks, and neck are itching and driving me up the wall, I'm serious! And I've got this weird... blotchy bruisey looking thing on my inner upper arm. Definitely calling the doctor in the morning!!

*sits down to review everything she's eaten and done over the last twenty-four hours*

GAAAAHHHH!!! I'M ITCHING!!!

Don't scratch, don't scratch, don't scratch, don't scratch...

Rat Patootie!!

Sunday, June 21st, 2009 09:07 pm
auntbijou: (Angry Chibi Auntie!!)
Fever, fever go away

Don't come back another day

You are giving Auntie grumps

Putting her down in the dumps

Fever, leave me, do not stay

You have ruined Auntie's day

Keeping her stuck in the bed

While everyone else plays instead

She does not like being sick

So go away, don't be a d**k!!



no love,

Auntie
auntbijou: (Default)
It has been three days, sixteen hours, 56 minutes and 4 seconds since I last got kissed by the Husbandly One.

It has been three days, twenty two hours, 36 minutes and 16 seconds since I last got snogged silly by the Husbandly One.

I am not happy about this at all.

First off, the Impossible Son is better. In fact, he'll be going back to school tomorrow (YAY!!), and he got to play in the first soccer game of the season for his team Saturday morning.

However... the Husbandly One came down with the Bug From Hell Friday morning. And he had it much worse than Mr. Manzie did! In fact, at one point, he had decided to take a warm tub to relax his aching muscles and y'all, I thought I was going to have to haul him out of the bathtub all by myself! Now, I'm a sturdy gal, and I'm a lot stronger than I look, but hauling 160 pounds of conscious husband out of the bathtub is one thing... hauling 160 pounds of dead weight is a completely different story! Fortunately, he managed to stay conscious, and I did get him out of the tub, but it took a while!!

I had to call the league and tell them he would not be doing any referee work on Saturday, and I thought the Impertinent Daughter and I were going to have to coach his little U8 team through their first game, but he felt better enough Saturday morning to do that himself. However... he felt worse Saturday night, and today... well, he was a very uncomfortable THO.

I have a feeling he won't be going in to work tomorrow.

This, of course, is the reason for the moratorium on snogging. Which I miss very, very, very much. In fact, I am feeling very, very snog-deprived right now, and can't believe how dependent I am on them!! If he doesn't get better soon, I may start looking for other candidates!!

I know he doesn't want me to get this bug, and believe me, I don't want to, either! I have been washing my hands like a fiend to keep from getting this, and wiping everything he touches down. I haven't even slept in my bed, opting for a sleeping bag on the floor, fer gossakes! If I get this after all that... I am not going to be happy. Plus, it would make me have to wait even LONGER for a good, toe-curling kiss!!

I've already told him, ten seconds after he is officially declared over this bug, I am going to snog him breathless!!

Just... thought you ought to know.
auntbijou: (Default)
Have I mentioned how much I love and utterly adore my husband?

He's taking the "night shift" with the Impossible Son. Because I had the day shift.

*is off to bed, because she's ZONKED!!*
auntbijou: (Default)
I feel like I'm spamming you today.

My poor little man. He's got a nasty tummy bug... again. Started Sunday night. We thought it was his citrus sensitivity, since he'd gorged himself on five or six Clementine oranges we had picked up at the grocery store. Normally, he's only allowed two, and I can only credit extreme sneakiness on his part for getting away with it. However, I can pretty much guarantee that it won't happen again, since he ended up with the Stomach Ache of Doom on Sunday night.

Monday morning, he woke up complaining that his tummy still hurt, and he didn't want to go to school. However, he didn't have a fever, and I figured it was either nervous tummy (as in Severe Monday-itis) or the oranges weren't quite done with him yet. He couldn't eat his breakfast, but I got him ready for school anyway, keeping an eye on him as we went along, and the fact that he was very, very quiet in the back seat, and soon lost interest in his Nintendo told me he probably wasn't going to make it to school. After we dropped Miss Priss off, I looked in the kid mirror and saw a pale, peaky little face looking back at me. So... we went home. And when I called the doctor? Full up. No appointments.

Not long after we got home... Mount Impossible erupted. Yay.

By the afternoon, I knew it wasn't the oranges anymore. He did not want me to leave his sight. It was like having a child surgically attached to your body. And he was the limpest little noodle you ever saw, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to look at food, barely wanting to drink...

He did revive enough by evening, though, to eat some chicken.

Which he threw up this morning.

So, I called the doctor again, and got him in to see the physician's assistant. And what did we find out? Well, the Impossible Son was the sixth kid she'd seen today with the same symptoms. Vomiting, diarrhea, listlessness, no fever, stomach pain, headache...

And she saw nine yesterday. And four more had to be taken to the hospital over the weekend with the same symptoms.

They took swabs to see if he had the flu (they were negative) and also sent him to have blood drawn (y'all, he did so WELL!! He was so BRAVE!! His eyes got big, but he didn't move and he didn't cry!!), and... we have to send in stool samples. When the PA told me that, I said, "Are you suspecting salmonella?"

"Um, well," she said slowly, "I don't want to say it until we know for sure. That's why we want the tests."

"Well," I said slowly, "thing is, we were all sick over Christmas, including my mother, and we suspect THAT was salmonella, so..."

She was quiet, then said, "If it is, then we will deal with it as it comes. And that's why we're running these tests. So please, please, I know it's gross, but it's really important to get those samples!"

So... I will.

This is really frustrating, though. I'm just going to hope for the best here, and hope we're not bound to go through this... again.

*is still so very proud of her little man for letting the phlebotomist draw his blood... the FIRST time, no cajoling, no begging, no pleading*
auntbijou: (Default)
I guess I should explain yesterday's complaint about my sister.

*sigh*

When one is having health issues, such as gallbladder pain, and one is ignoring the dietary restrictions the doctor has requested one follow, such as NOT eating highly acidic, and extremely fatty foods, AND one has been living in a highly stressful environment, one should not then jump in the SUV and drive ALL BY ONE'S SELF to Arizona to stay with a friend. Really, Bets, I do understand why you had to get away, and I'm not disputing that. Hell, I'm over 165 miles away... and I want to get away!!

But...

(there's always a but, isn't there?)

This means that when one suddenly has an attack of acute gastritis and ends up in the emergency room in Flagstaff, Arizona, that your family is at a complete loss as to what to do to help you. Mom can't go to Flagstaff because she's just physically unable to. The Blonde Sister can't go because she's pretty much the only nurse left at the private practice she works at, since the other three are out. Your daughter can't go because she's an emotional and physical wreck right now and I can't go because I have a sick kid, and THO can't take time off right now to take on child care full time.

And yes, dear, I know you are out of the hospital and at your friend's home with all these wonderful medications, but I"m also aware that it will be at least a week before you are able to drive down the street, much less across Arizona, New Mexico, and all of Texas, and I also know (as Mom does not, and it's a good thing she doesn't know, too, or your ears would be blistered from her phone call) that you checked yourself out of the hospital, you weren't released. You stinker (and I'm bein' REAL nice now, dontcha know, because I really want to call you something else).

This is why my sister is an IDIOT. And why I am contemplating flying to Flagstaff, just so I can clock her on the back of the head and say, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING????"

I mean... there's a reason I used to call her the Practical Sister!!!

AAAAAAUUUGGGHHHH!!!!!

*grumbles and mutters under breath as she starts hacking at the weeds in the backyard*
auntbijou: (Default)
You know it's been a lousy Christmas break when the Husbandly One wants to go back to work!

Mom got out of the hospital on Wednesday, but had to come back here to stay with us rather than going back to Houston as my two older sisters had planned between themselves. They had planned it because I was recovering very slowly, and they knew THO had his hands full, and because they felt Mom would feel better in her own bed if the Flaky Sister stayed with her.

That isn't how it worked out.

First, the Blonde Sister's daughter, A, got it, and the Blonde Sister, who works at a doctor's office, found herself having to work overtime because this virus is making the rounds where she lives. Then my oldest niece, D, got it, and had to be hospitalized because she got severely dehydrated very quickly, so the Flaky Sister had to stay with her kids.

Mom didn't mind, really, and neither did we, though it did mean giving up our bed (and just after we'd gotten used to being back in it, too!), and since our appetites were as sparse as Mom's, that meant no one pressuring her to eat, and eat, and eat!

The Blonde Sister and the Brotherly One came to pick Mom up today and take her back home. I am glad, because truthfully, none of us are up to a drive to Houston and back today. Well, the kids are more energetic than we are, but they still aren't eating all that much.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a nap now.

*groan*

Tuesday, December 30th, 2008 05:44 am
auntbijou: (Default)
It has been the Weekend from Hell. Literally.

It all started Christmas Eve. I know that was on Thursday, just... bear with me.

Christmas Eve, the Impossible Son started throwing up around 5:30 p.m. or so. My best friend and her family were due to come over at 6, and I figured they were already on the road, so I didn't call them. In retrospect, I should have, whether or not they were on the way, but it had been so long since I had last seen her...

The Husbandly One was doing most of the food prep (I had made baked beans earlier in the day, so he only had to take them out), so I handled Mr. Manzie and washed my hands constantly and touched no one if I could help it.

The Impossible Son was feeling much better by the time they were ready to leave. It had lasted only five hours for him.

Christmas day, we were due to go to Houston to have Christmas dinner with the Blonde Sister and the rest of the family, and my mother would come back with us to stay until Sunday, which I was thrilled about. She even brought her little dog, Katie. But, by Christmas night, the Impertinent Daughter was throwing up, and had escalated things by running a fever as well. As close to 103 as you can get. Friday morning, I called our doctor, who turned out to be on vacation until Monday. Great. So I took her to the local walk-in clinic. And waited two hours. The Impertinent Daughter was miserable and finally turned to me and said, "Mom, I need to go home. I just... I just can't sit here any more."

I said, "Let's wait just fifteen more minutes, sweetie."

She said, "Mom, now."

She was so pale. And I could tell she was at the end of her endurance, so I went up to the receptionist and told her not to bother, that we were leaving. She looked up from her computer and I started grinding my teeth. She was only just then starting on our paperwork. After two friggin' hours!

We went home.

The daughter went to bed, and I contemplated a nap. Everyone was tired. You could call this the calm before the storm. The daughter improved, and Saturday, we contemplated taking Mom to San Marcos or maybe to Austin. But we didn't, because the Impertinent One was still not up to it. In the meantime, Mom and Katie both were astonishing me by being far more active than I'd seen either of them in a long while. Katie is a little Corgie mix... I think. Actually, she looks like a miniature German Shepherd with short legs. Anyhow, she's 13 years old, and very stiff, and when my mom lets her out at home, she only wanders in a very specified small circle in the backyard. Here, she astonished us by wandering through the entire backyard, and actually running from time to time. She became rather playful, too, to my mom's delight.

I wish it could have lasted.

Saturday night, Mom felt like she had indigestion, and asked if we had anything for it. Well... we don't get indigestion much, so we pretty much only have Tums on hand. Which wasn't what she wanted or needed. I asked if she wanted me to run to the store and she said no, she was okay, and she went to bed.

I was pretty tired. I hadn't slept very well, and I woke up early, and it was close to midnight, so when I got settled on the couch (we had given Mom our room), it was a relief. I was just drifting so sleep when I heard Mom say, "Auntie? I'm not feeling very well. I think something's wrong."

I sat up and found my mom standing in the doorway, trembling and shuddering in her pajamas. I was up instantly, and wrapped my arm around her to help her back to bed. I thought she was going to collapse on me twice. She was shuddering so hard, and shaking, and when I finally got her to the bed, she nearly slipped out! Once I got her settled, I went and got THO, who was cuddling the Impossible Son to sleep and had fallen asleep himself. And after that... oh geez, y'all.

Mom was so sick. She's always had the hardest time throwing up, and this was no different. She couldn't stand to have either myself or THO out of her sight, and when I had to go empty the slop bowl, she'd whimper, "Where's Auntie?" and THO would say, "She's just in the bathroom, Mom, she'll be right back."

By this time, my hands were raw from so much hand-washing.

She got bad enough that I said, "Mom, do you want me to call 911?" Because she was getting very dehydrated, very fast.

We called 911. She was so dehydrated, the EMT had a hard time finding a vein just so he could hook up an I.V. and give her a little Phenargin for nausea to give her a little break during her ambulance ride. After they left, I gave THO a list of family phone numbers to call, but advised him to call the Blonde Sister and let her spread the news, and drove after the ambulance to the hospital in San Marcos.

It was around 3 a.m. by this time. And I sat in that emergency room with Mom with nothing but a chair to sit next to her. I was so sleep-deprived by this point that nothing seemed real. I helped the nurses turn Mom to treat her, to clean her, to change her bedclothes, because she had diarrhea at this point, and I called them when she needed help. I spoke to two doctors coherently, how I don't know, but I did, and finally got her into a room well after 10 a.m. I remember several times staring longingly at the floor, wondering if anyone would notice if I just curled up on it and went to sleep.

Mom kept staring at me when she was lucid and saying, "You're staying here with me. You're such a good girl, Auntie." When she wasn't lucid, she said things like, "They're testing me by making me cook vegetables in the microwave to make sure I cook them all the way through."

O_o??

I love my mom, even when she's out of her head.

So, we got her into a room, the doctor came to tell me that she was dangerously dehydrated, that this same virus that my kids got over so quickly was dangerous in a person Mom's age (81), and she'd probably be there for 24 hours.

Okay.

Introduce guilt here.

I comforted Mom, got her settled, and promised to be back later that evening after I'd gotten some rest. I left, stopped to get some caffeine to keep me awake on the long drive home, and stupidly picked up some french fries to nibble as well (if I never see another french fry in my life, I shall die happy). Got home a little after noon, told THO everything so he could report to the Blonde Sister, and went to bed to crash.

And woke up five hours later, asking the Impertinent Daughter for a 7-Up (something we keep in the house when there's lots of throwing up, because it's soothing) and promptly lost my cookies.

I had it.

Needless to say, I did not keep my promise to my mother. And I spent the next 12 hours not really coherent, tossing my cookies and getting dehydrated from vomiting and diarrhea, but not enough for THO to call 911. I'm only just now getting the strength to sit up. THO had his own bout this morning, but he only got the diarrhea. The poor man has had his hands full, I am telling you!

The doctor at the hospital diagnosed this as acute gastroenteritis with dehydration, which really covers a multitude of sins. All I know is, this is apparently making the rounds and we are merely the latest victims. Oh, and my best friend's son got it, and one of my nieces got it.

Mom is still in hospital, still throwing up at the last report I got from my sisters, who drove in to check on her, and that they suspect she may have pneumonia. If she doesn't, she'll be released this evening. If she does, they'll be keeping her.

I hope I'll be able to drive in to see her later this afternoon. Her little dog has been wandering around the house, looking for her. My kids have been petting her and making much of her, trying to comfort her.

Okay, I have to go lay down again. I just... wanted y'all to know, I'm still alive.

Uuuuugggghhhh....

Saturday, August 2nd, 2008 10:56 am
auntbijou: (Default)
I am sicker than a dog, y'all.

My throat's been sore the past couple of days, but I just figured it was (1) sinus drainage and (2) the fact they had a generic rather than Zyrtec-D at the pharmacy last time I went to buy more, and the generic just ain't doin' the job.

Then last night, it got worse, and I started losing my voice a bit, so I asked the Husbandly One to make me a hot toddy. Now, I have a very, very low alcohol tolerance, so THO is always rather careful when he makes toddies for me. I can always tell when he wants me to sleep because he'll make them a little stronger than usual, and we're both a little sleep deprived at the moment. So when I started feeling whoozy, I thought, okay, either he made this a little stronger than usual, or my tolerance level has dropped, because it's been a while since I've had anything alcoholic.

Finally, I woke him up and made him take the Impossible Son to his bed a lot earlier than I usually do, because I literally could not stay up any longer. He did, and decided to take an opportunity to get on the computer while I went to sleep. Next thing I know, I'm shivering under the covers and it feels like someone's been beating me all over with a bat. I had a FEVER!! After Advil, and a hot shower to relieve my body aches, I crawled back into bed to pass out for the rest of the night.

Now, my glands are HUGE, my throat is red and swollen, and while I have no fever at present (thanks to the Advil, again), I feel like crap. I suspect Strep.

Think I'm going to beg THO for a slushy. Because my throat HUUUUUURTS!!!

*whimpers and curls back up under the quilt*

Eurgh...

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008 03:46 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
Okay, the Impossible Son has caught whatever it is the Impertinent Daughter has, which Dr. Flake says isn't strep. Dr. Flake is our pediatrician's back-up doctor, and we are seeing her because if y'all don't remember, our pediatrician closed her practice back in November. I'm not a real big fan of Dr. Flake, because once, during our regular doc's vacation, Miss Priss got very, very sick, typical strep and all, and Dr. Flake said, "Oh, no, it's not strep, just the common cold." I put up with that for two days, then called our regular doc, who was back by that time, took Miss Priss in, got swabbed, and gloree halleeluyer, it's STREP!! WHAT A SURPRISE!!!

*rolls eyes*

Of course, there's more to it than that. For one thing, I found out Dr. Flake doesn't like giving antibiotics for strep. She feels a kid should develop a natural immunity to it.

Yeah. Right.

My daughter has had strep enough that if she were going to develop a natural immunity to it, she would have done it by now. However, when my kid has a fever of 104, sorry, but it's time for antibiotics! And she's not eating, because her throat hurts. So, I asked the doc to prescribe Tussinol, which has hydrocodone in it, and is the only thing we have found will numb the pain long enough for her to eat. No, I'm not wild about giving my eleven year old hydrocodone, but it's a very small amount, we've tried everything else, thanks, this works, let's run with it, 'k?

Dr. Flake tried to make me feel like (1)the worst mom ever, for letting her child take a possibly addictive substance and (2) a druggie who actually wanted the medication for herself, not her child, whom she was using as a shill for her own habit.

No, I didn't take that very well.

We compromised. She gave us samples. And I've made appointments with my own doctor here in town for my kids, until we can find another pediatrician. Because I am not taking my kids back to Dr. Granola-brain. I almost asked her if she'd had a few too many special brownies before coming in to see us.

Anyhow, now Mr. Manzie has the creeping crud, too, and because he is also Mr. Kissy-Face, especially when he's not feeling good, it seems I am coming down with it, too. Yay.

Hopefully, the Husbandly One will be able to avoid the lethal germs and not join in. Right now, all I wanna do is curl up in bed and sleep for the next hundred years. Or more.

Maybe I'll get the kids and we can all pile into bed and feel crummy together. Anybody want to volunteer to get up and get water for us? Or tea? Seven-Up? Ginger ale?

Oh... right... that's my job.

*sigh*

~sucking wheeze~

Thursday, November 15th, 2007 01:27 pm
auntbijou: (Default)
I know I'm not much of a presence lately. I am reading, but... mostly, I'm spending my time curled up in a ball in bed, coughing my lungs out. I'm so sore from coughing that I feel like someone's been beating me all over my back and chest with a baseball bat, and yes, actually, I do know how that feels.

I also know what it feels like to be tackled by a 240 lb linebacker in full gear. Not fun when you're only 5'3" and weigh 95 pounds soaking wet(that was a looooong time ago).

Anyway, I'm still alive, mostly, and no, I can't take cough suppressants, because I've got to get this crap out. So... outta luck for Auntie.

*crawls back into bed*

Blaaaaaaaaaahhh....

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2007 10:34 pm
auntbijou: (Default)

We have all been sick for nearly the last two weeks.  It's a nasty virus, it is, and it mostly means a very congested chest, a very nasty cough, and extreme lassitude.  Of course, it has also had little individual quirks that it has customized for each of us.  For the Impossible Son, who was the first to get it, it meant throwing up for 24 hours straight.  Yay.

For the Impertinent Daughter, who got it next, it meant extreme sinus congestion, and headaches.  That kid produced enough snot to supply the next Ghostbusters movie, I swear!

For me, it caused laryngitis, and a horrendous cough that sometimes brought me to my knees.

And for the Husbandly One, it meant... pink eye.

You know, a blue-eyed person with conjunctivitis just looks... wrong.  Of course, I've teased him that he's very patriotic, being all red, white, and blue.  For some reason, he wasn't amused!  I said, "Too bad I'm not still producing breast milk."  

He got dreamy-eyed and said, "Yeah."

I hit him, and said, "For your EYES, you perv!"

Yeah, breastmilk is a documented cure for pink-eye.  Clears it up in about 48 hours.  (Why am I getting sudden visions of[personal profile] emiime  doing the squick dance right now?)

Anyhow, Mr. Manzie has recovered first, so he's literally bouncing off the walls.  Miss Priss is nearly over it, and about to start bouncing off the walls.  Me?  I'm still curling up in a fetal position on the floor every time I cough, wishing my lungs would just go ahead and get it over with and turn themselves inside out.  The doctor just says, "Plenty of rest, plenty of fluids.  It's a virus, not much we can do about it."  And the Husbandly One is either hacking his lungs up, or demanding I make it all go away, because he's tired of being sick.  It seems to run its course in about a week and a half, so hopefully by the weekend, the Husbandly One and I will start feeling more like ourselves, and less like consumptive patients at a tubercular asylum.

When THO demanded, yet again, that I make it go away (yes, I'm dead serious.  He really does that), I waved my hands and said impressively, "Evanesco Egrotatio!" (vanish sickness!)

"Wow!" he said, and started coughing.  When he was done, and the tears wiped away, he said, "If that doesn't do it, I don't know what will!"

I said, "It might take some time.  That virus is pretty damn tough."

"I have all the faith in the world in you," he said, and promptly went to sleep.

I wonder if it would work if I did it to myself?

 

 Nah.  I would never be that lucky.

*hack, hack, hack*

It's Only Tuesday??

Tuesday, May 8th, 2007 01:51 pm
auntbijou: (Default)

Okay, so LAST week, the Impossible Son was sick with a virus.  It lasted FOUR DAYS.  By Friday, though, he was much better, which was a good thing.  And he went back to school yesterday.

In the meantime, the Impertinent Daughter woke us up in the wee hours of Monday morning with 102.8.  Yay.  So, she spent yesterday on the couch, cranky and clingy and not wanting me out of her sight.  

Yay.

So... today, we're in Day 2, and she's not as cranky, and not as clingy, and I have hopes she'll go to school tomorrow.  The phone rings at 1 pm, and I get this Sinking Feeling of Dread.  No, I think.  Please, no, no, no.  I look at the caller i.d., and the Dread Sinks Further.  It's the school.  No, no, no, I whimper.  I answer.  It's the school nurse.  The Impossible Son came into her office complaining of a very bad headache, and his temp was 99.9.  Could I come get him please?

*sigh*

I got there just in time for him to hurl chunks all over the floor, poor little guy.  He was one little bundle of miserable, and literally velcroed himself to my side the moment I got to his cot.  It's good that Auntie is a sturdy little thing, as she had to carry 46 pounds of limp, dead weight out to her car!  Yes, he was Noodle Boy.  I got him home, gave him Tylenol, and he promptly fell asleep in his bed.  In his BED, guys.  Mr. Manzie prefers the couch when he's sick.  Perhaps I should call the CDC?

Regardless, now I have both kids at home, sick.  Please, please, please, I don't wanna get this.  Moms aren't allowed to get sick.  It's the Law of the Universe, and I don't want to get cited, you know?

Guess I'd better get back to kid watching and stare at the cupboards in the kitchen, trying to come up with something nourishing that won't upset a non-cooperative tummy.

*le sigh*

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