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Oct 5, 2010

Down but Not Out

October 5, 2010 By

There are times when everything is going great in my life, and I can’t wait to write out all of the good here on my blog.

Then there are times when I’m frustrated, or something isn’t going the way I’d like, and I turn to this blog to vent or get advice.

And then there are times like the last two weeks, when life hands me a body blow – body blow – uppercut TKO and I’m left sprawled out on the mat faster than you can say Mike Tyson’s Punchout.

Right after Cordy’s birthday, my job went from your normal 8 hour job to a crazy mess. Overtime was strongly encouraged and soon I was only working – sometimes sleeping and sometimes eating – with the rest of my life simply put on hold. I was happy to help out in the situation, because we really needed everyone to give everything they had, but it quickly wore me down.

At the same time, Mira was also in the middle of a strange stomach virus. She had vomited the week before, then went a few days without eating much, then vomited three times in one night. Lather, rinse, and repeat the entire pattern two more times, and we’re left wondering what kind of virus can skip a few days and come back again. It also took away my chances at more sleep, meaning I’ve been extremely underslept for the past two weeks. One night was bad enough that I was sure I was hearing voices and hallucinating.

Then, just because a work crisis and a sick child weren’t enough, I developed the stomach virus as well, although mine was more of the single 48-hour variety. But in that 48 hours I purged everything from my digestive system and developed a strong aversion to food. It took several days for me to gain the ability to eat more than a few bites of food at a time, which was a shame considering my work was provided gorgeous meals for everyone working overtime that I couldn’t enjoy.

Add in a broken water heater, a three year old who cut her own hair on one side only, a headlight out on the car, and one aggressive school nurse threatening to pull Cordy out of school if we didn’t get her vaccinations updated ASAP, and I was starting to think it would be easier to stop trying to get up every time the karma bus ran me over and just lay there instead.

Everything else was in stasis for the week. We used any clothing we could find for the girls because I didn’t have time for laundry, other than laundry that involved puke. Pizza and fast food were regular meals for the family. I would often turn the TV on and nap on the couch when the girls got home from school. And I haven’t ran or exercised in any way since the March of Dimes 5K. Internet? Ha. I barely knew what was going on in the world.

There has been some good in the past two weeks, though. Seeing everyone at work pull together to get the job done has been inspiring. Aaron has a temp job – where I work, actually – helping out with all of the little extras that need done during this crisis. Cordy read every one of her birthday cards this year, impressing everyone with her previously hidden reading talents. And Mira…well…Mira only cut ONE side of her hair. You could call it a fashionable asymmetrical look.

What energy or personality I possessed was ruthlessly drained from me in the past two weeks, and I’m now desperately trying to pull myself back together and refuel my life force with small servings of Facebook, Twitter, cuddling on the couch with my family, and phone calls with friends and family.

Things are slowly going back to normal. Slowly. There is still a lot of overtime expected at work, but I got to sleep 8 hours this weekend. And do a couple loads of laundry. I got to spend more than a couple of hours with my husband and children, when we were all awake and no one was sick. It was short-lived, and I’m back to only sleeping and working, but I know those peaceful moments will be back again soon.

And I’m slowly inching my way back out into being social again.

Hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I’ve been here the entire time, missing my blog, my friends, and my leisure time. Life should get back to normal soon (whatever normal might be), and as it does nothing will get in my way of getting back to what I love.

Filed Under: clearly insane, fate laughing at me, me me me, plague, the J-O-B Tagged With:


Sep 13, 2010

Sickness, Dollars and Sense

September 13, 2010 By

Saturday night was a long night. I trudged up to bed around midnight, my body and brain fighting to figure out if it was really nearly lunchtime or bedtime. (Third shift work schedules really screw with your biorhythms.) No sooner had my eyes closed and I was on the verge of sleep, I heard crying coming from Mira’s room. I went in and she was clutching her belly, crying “My bewwy huwts!!!”

Figuring it was probably just gas, I rubbed her belly and back, but she then asked if she could come into my room. Aaron had fallen asleep on the couch, so I agreed and brought her in. She lay in bed with me for about ten minutes before deciding she felt better and went back to her room. I again tried to focus on the inside of my eyelids and aimed for sleep.

An hour later, a repeat performance. This time I got her up and had her try using the potty. (Did I mention we’re potty training? No? Well, we’re POTTY TRAINING! A whole year and a half earlier than Cordy, thank goodness!) Again it didn’t seem to help much, and she eventually went back to bed.

Two hours later, the crying startled me awake. This time it sounded more urgent. I went into her room to see her sitting in a corner of her bed, pointing to the center and saying, “I made a mess! I sowwy! I soooo sowwy!” As my eyes adjusted to the light, and my nose adjusted to the assault on it, I realized she had vomited and was covered in it herself. Poor kid – she’s sick and all she can do is think I’m mad at her for making a mess. You’d think I was a clean freak.

I carefully lifted her out of bed, making sure to avoid her stuffed pink polar bear (which she made sure to tell me that she was careful to NOT get vomit on her prized stuffed animal!), stripped her down and put her in the bath. While she soaked, I cleaned up the mess, remade her bed, and got the washer started. Then I cleaned her up, got her dressed and put her to bed. Mira seemed to feel better after that, and I hoped it was over.

Sunday was a typical day for her. She ate just fine, even though we were cautious at first, she played, and she continued to say, “My bewwy doesn’t huwt now!” Sure, I was exhausted from barely sleeping all night, but she seemed better, so I couldn’t complain too much. It was probably just a virus passing through quickly.

Then Sunday night, right at bedtime, it started again: “My bewwy reawwy hurwts!” At this point, I thought Mira was faking it, having figured out yet another way to stall at bedtime and get some extra attention. Aaron – being better slept than me and therefore in a more generous mood – let her rest on the couch and she promptly fell asleep. Faker, I decided.

Aaron carried her back to bed, and I relaxed in my chair to enjoy a little guilty pleasure I call the MTV VMA’s before I had to go to work. But no sooner than Justin Bieber jumped up on stage, the wailing voice of a little girl could be heard from upstairs. (Yeah, Mira, I’m more of a Lady Gaga fan, too.) Aaron went to check on her and soon came downstairs with a pathetic little barnacle clinging to him. She was again crying that her belly hurt.

Aaron tried to put her on the couch again, but this time she didn’t fall asleep. She tossed and turned and wiggled, occasionally wailing in pain. At this point, I was starting to think it wasn’t an act. But it made no sense – how could she be so sick the night before, then perfect all day long, and now very sick again? That little voice of motherly worry started to build in my mind.

I barely saw Taylor Swift’s performance, because by that point the wailing had reached a fever pitch. Aaron tried to pull Mira into his lap on the floor, but she pushed him away and stumbled over to where I was sitting in the recliner. No longer the stoic doubter, I accepted her into my lap and let her curl herself into me, even knowing I only had five minutes or so until I had to leave for work. She continued to cry, and I asked her to show me where her belly hurt. She placed a chubby hand over her entire belly-button area.

I gently pushed on her belly, trying to remember what to feel for in a three year old, but my nursing skills were falling short. She wailed as I touched her abdomen, constantly shifting around in an attempt to find some relief from whatever was hurting her.

In those moments, as I tried to distract her by pointing out Lady Gaga was on stage accepting an award, real worry invaded my mind. What if this wasn’t just a bug? What if she was really sick?

We don’t have health insurance at the moment. My job is a contractor position and Aaron was laid off in May. My agency’s health plan was nearly half of my salary for a $4000 deductible, and COBRA cost even more. I make too much to be covered on any state insurance plan for children, and the private market? Yeah, well, let’s just say they don’t want to cover our family. I don’t even have paid sick time. If I need to miss a day, I don’t get paid for it. We are the ones “stuck in the middle” making too much to qualify for any help and too little to not worry about the costs.

So in that moment, as I became my own personal WebMD and pondered if Mira had a blockage or if her appendix might burst at any moment, I was also forced to calculate in my head if it was worth taking her to the hospital if she didn’t get better. At what point would the risks outweigh the hefty financial hit we’d face? Just the ER charge alone would be crippling, without even considering costs of any tests or x-rays.

At that point, Mira’s wails took on a new pitch, drowning out the TV entirely, and as I clutched her tight, with Aaron kneeling next to the chair and rubbing her back, I felt the tears in my eyes. Her health was coming down to money. I felt like I was being forced to decide how sick she had to be before we could risk going broke. And I wanted to scream right along with her, wail at how idiotic and unfair our health insurance system is, and sob that any parent should be forced to think like this, to feel this helpless in the shadow of illness and dollar bills balancing on an enormous scale.

And right then Mira vomited all over me. Twice. The silence was shocking to us all.

That sweet little girl then took one look at me, completely covered in more vomit than I thought possible to come out of such a small person, and said, “Mommy, I so sowwy I got you messy. You still wuv me?”

For the moment all of my fears and worries were gone as I stroked her hair and assured her that of course I still loved her and everything was OK. She still didn’t feel well, but the crying had stopped as she was suddenly more concerned about me. (And seriously, I’m really not obsessed with being neat. Sure, I don’t like being covered in vomit, but I doubt anyone does.)

Mira still isn’t well, but I’m less worried about appendicitis now and back to my original theory that it’s a virus. And so we continue to wait it out, hoping she gets better soon and we can avoid a costly trip to the doctor or the ER. I’m still mad at the system, though. Angry that we can’t have affordable health insurance because I chose to take a job I love over something I wouldn’t enjoy as much, because Aaron is unemployed, because we have a host of pre-existing conditions that would deny us private insurance.

We’re average Americans. We have a house, we make a middle-class income, we pay our taxes, and we’re trying to get ahead to provide for our daughters. But we’re also forced to worry that the next stomachache that comes along might be more serious. That stomachache could bankrupt us, could take away that house we call home, and that chance at getting ahead we so desperately want and work hard towards. I know we’re not the only ones in this situation, either.

I’m not an economist (nor do I play one on TV), and I didn’t start this post with the intention of going all ranty, but as a mother I can’t understand why anyone would think that basic universal health care is wrong. At this point I’d even be willing to settle for universal children’s health care. No mother wants a price to be placed on her child’s health – so why would you then choose to put a price on the health of someone else’s child?

Maybe the world would be a better place if mothers were running it.

Filed Under: being a mom, big issues, Mira, money Tagged With:


Jan 20, 2010

I’m Not A Rookie Mom, But Fevers Still Worry Me

January 20, 2010 By

Give me a daughter facing the challenges of autism, and I rise to the challenge. Or give me a daughter with a speech delay, and I fearlessly jump in to start early intervention with complete confidence she’ll triumph.

But give me a kid with a hacking cough and a fever of 103.5 who looks this miserable:

…and I’m a puddle of worry.

I’m often impressed with how Cordy and Mira remain so healthy. Sure, they get colds about as often as any other kid, but they are most often minor colds and rarely slow them down. Fevers are always minor – just a little warm, no need for medication. And we’ve had plenty of stomach bugs, but other than the unpleasantness of cleaning up blow-out diapers, they weren’t too bad.

And then Mira’s cough began on Sunday. By yesterday it was a constant, fierce cough that forced her to catch her breath after a coughing fit, along with a fever. She spent last night coughing and crying in her sleep, and I was unable to do anything to make it easier for her.

This morning she slept in, something she rarely does. And then she refused breakfast, something she never does. She didn’t want to play or watch TV – she only wanted to rest her flushed little face against me. Her temp was 103.5.

So I took her to the pediatrician, where I was given few answers: It’s probably not strep. It’s most likely viral, either a throat infection or the flu. No antibiotics for now. Nothing to do at this point but give her ibuprofen round-the-clock on schedule, keep her hydrated, and wait it out.

Wait it out. Sounds so simple, and yet…

Today she didn’t fight her nap for once, and she didn’t pick fights with her sister. She spent a lot of time on me instead of playing with her trains. She’s not herself, and I don’t like that.

Many parents have kids that run fevers like this all the time, and are probably so used to it they would laugh at my hand-wringing and worry. I’ve advised several parents on how much ibuprofen to give and signs/symptoms to watch for, however it’s always different when it’s your kid. This is mostly new to me, and feeling the nape of my smallest child’s neck on fire, even with ibuprofen and Tylenol in her, leaves me feeling helpless.

I’m hoping she’ll wake up tomorrow a little less warm, a little more energetic, and a little closer to putting this behind us. If not, I’ll be right here to provide ibuprofen, refill juice cups, and provide a comfortable lap to cuddle on. I’m thankful to have a job with sick time so I can be home with her when she needs me the most. Because it’s not my nursing skills that are being used here –  it’s being her mommy that magically helps her feel better.

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Also, I’m proud to announce I’m one of several talented writer for the new Ohio Moms Blog! (Part of the amazing SV Moms Group.) Stop by for a visit, and be sure to check out my first post there, where I am once again performing amazing feats of hand-wringing.

Filed Under: being a mom, love, Mira Tagged With:


Jun 30, 2009

A Lot of Nothing, With a Side of Frustration

June 30, 2009 By

I spent all of last night trying to psych myself up for today, prepared for Cordy to endure dental torture and probably some kind of sedating agent to allow tooth professionals to perform said dental torture.

No one told me the torture would be all mine today.

We arrived at the dental clinic at Children’s Hospital at 12:15pm. The emergency clinic opened at 1:00, so we took a number (#3 at 45 min. early!) and waited. Cordy was a little unsure of the waiting room, made worse minute by minute as more and more people filled the tiny room, eventually taking up every seat. It became loud and chaotic quickly. I silently hoped that, as #3 in line, we’d quickly be whisked away from the din of that waiting room.

The clock struck one and the registration window opened. #3 was called five minutes later and I approached the window, only to be turned away with a clipboard full of paperwork and instructions to return when I had filled it all out. Meanwhile, other numbers were called and other children were shuffled back into the office. I used my best speed penmanship to complete the forms and rush back to the window. I was again told to have a seat and they would let me know when they needed me again.

45 minutes later, we still waited. The room was still loud, Cordy was begging to go home and complaining of hunger. My head was pounding. When our name was called again, we went to the window only to be given an ID sticker to put on Cordy’s shirt, with the message to sit down and wait more.

Half an hour later, it was time to see the doctor.

We were brought back into a tiny room, where I explained what I knew: Cordy’s lower right back molar was broken, she may be in pain but we can never be sure, and she’s a difficult patient. The doctor coaxed Cordy into showing her the tooth (thanks to my offer to let Cordy cook tonight if she cooperated). The doctor then immediately launched into a lecture on cavities that made me feel about two inches tall. She seemed to assume I fed Cordy a steady diet of Mountain Dew and pixie sticks.

“Wait,” I interrupted, “How does she have a cavity? She doesn’t eat a lot of sweets, we brush her teeth, and I check her teeth weekly. I’ve never noticed even a darkish spot on that tooth. And she never eats hard candy or anything harder than a Goldfish cracker.”

The doctor paused, then told me how fluoride toothpaste can mask a cavity, effectively covering it up with a fluoride shell. I’ll admit, that made no sense to me at all. But then as she continued on, I again felt like she was somehow saying this was all my fault.

She then confirmed what I suspected: Cordy would need general anesthesia to repair the tooth. The better news? As long as it isn’t infected, they will be able to cap the tooth and not need to pull it. Then she told me, “The wait time for dental surgery right now is about 8-10 weeks.”

I stared at her hard for a moment, not sure if I heard her correctly. “You mean for routine stuff, right?”

“No, I mean for any dental surgery.”

As you know, I am nearly-a-nurse. I understand that a parent’s sense of urgency isn’t always the same as a medical sense of urgency. In that moment, however? I was ready to call the doctor a quack.

“8-10 weeks? But what if she’s in pain? We’re supposed to let her be in pain for 8-10 weeks?” I then explained Cordy’s odd pain reception, and how we don’t know if she’s hurting or not. She now won’t let me brush the tooth, so I can only assume she’s hurting. “There’s no way I can let her hurt for 8-10 weeks.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, since she is special needs, and has unique sensory issues, we can then consider that she is in pain and find an earlier surgery date. I believe there might be some spots available in 2-3 weeks.”

Again, a look of stupor had to show on my face. “2-3 weeks is considered acceptable for a child in pain?”

The doctor then tried to explain to me that there was acute pain and chronic pain, and how this is likely chronic pain, which a child can “get used to.” Ah. Well, that explains everything. She can just get used to hurting. No prob.

The entire procedure was explained to me, and I agreed that it sounded like the best possible procedure. General anesthesia gives them a chance to check for any other problems, correct them if needed, and give her teeth a good cleaning while she’s there.

So now we’re waiting to get a surgery date sometime in the next 2-3 weeks. And Cordy has to get a physical, also, to rule out anything that could prevent her from having surgery. (Including “malignant hyperthermia” according to the doctor, which I know can’t be determined from a simple physical.)

I am completely on-board with the procedure. It’s what Cordy needs. I also know that not everyone can walk-in and have dental surgery, despite what the ER led me to believe. I’m frustrated by the long wait, however. If Cordy’s tooth doesn’t become infected, we can save it. But if it does, the tooth will be pulled, which could throw off the spacing in her mouth. As someone who had braces for 5 years, I’d rather not screw up the good spacing she currently has. And the longer it takes to get this done, the greater the chance of infection, not to mention being in pain for longer than I would like.

The entire time the doctor and I talked, Cordy was miserable, sitting near the door, pulling on the doorknob begging to go home. She was scared by the medical equipment in the room, and the doctor often got right in her face, which is good for many kids, but completely intimidates Cordy. I hate that I had to put her through that today, and will have to put her through it again, along with a trip to her pediatrician, too.

We left Children’s Hospital exhausted: Cordy still with a broken tooth, and me with a killer headache and a lot of frustration. Cordy winced tonight when I brushed her teeth, denying that it hurt but showing signs that it did. The prescription painkiller (hydrocodone) did nothing to make it better, and in typical Cordy response, actually made her more alert and awake instead of drowsy.

This is one of those times when I can’t make everything better for her, and it really upsets me. I feel helpless, stuck in the system. I’m not asking for any kind of special treatment, either. In some ways, the special treatment we need is causing this to take longer – if Cordy could sit still and be a compliant patient, everything would have been fixed today in the dentist’s chair.

But as her mom, with all nearly-a-nurse knowledge put aside, I think it’s unfair to make her endure more pain because a condition she can’t control keeps her from being a model patient. I want to rage about how insane this all is to someone who can do something, but it wouldn’t help. It’s not rational, but isn’t that part of what being a parent is all about? We want to protect our children against anything, against all enemies, even if those enemies are reason and logic. Mama bear instinct is strong.

So now, we wait. And I make every effort to relax, while watching Cordy closely for signs of infection and hoping she isn’t hurting.

I hate this.

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy Tagged With:


Jan 28, 2009

The Snowed-In Kohl’s Giveaway

January 28, 2009 By

How’s your day going? Ours can best be summed up as this:


We’re snowed in today – it would seem the entire city of Columbus is closed. Cordy is vibrating from an overload of energy and few ways to discharge it. Mira is still getting over her cold, and while she is almost back to normal, she’s still adding as much whine to her day as possible.

And Aaron and I now have Mira’s cold. Despite all attempts to wash my hands frequently, and bathe in Purell and Cleanwell on a regular basis, nothing can stop a determined toddler from giving you her germs. I think I can trace when I became infected. It was a few days ago when, while working at the computer, she tugged on my arm. As I turned to see what she wanted, she simultaneously thrust a half-chewed pretzel into my mouth. She’s a plague bearer.

Giveaway:

So anyway, today I have another giveaway to go with the Bloggy Giveaways carnival. I’ve got a $25 Kohl’s giftcard for one lucky winner! Who doesn’t love to shop at Kohl’s?

To enter, just leave a comment below – something more than “Pick me!” please. Either tell me what you’re hoping to buy, tell me something about yourself, or feel free to tell me what you like about my blog.

You can also earn additional entries in one of the following ways.

Extra entries:
1. Tweet about this contest on Twitter.
2. Subscribe to my blog or let me know you’re already subscribed.
3. Write a post on your blog linking to this contest.

For each of these additional entries, please leave a separate comment. For #1 and #3, also give me the link to your tweet or blog post.

Entries will be accepted until Saturday, January 31 at 11:59 pm EST. One winner will be chosen at random after that date and contacted via e-mail, so be sure you have a valid e-mail address listed in your comment or in your Blogger profile.

Good luck!

Comments are now closed for this contest.

Filed Under: snow Tagged With: ,