Thank god for health insurance
Audrey has been officially diagnosed with asthma, which came at the price of three ER visits that included three one hour long breathing treatments, causing her to throw up all over herself and not getting home until 2 am, where on the drive home, she was wide awake and while looking up at the sky said, “MAMA. LOOK AT ALL THOSE AIRPLANES!” They were stars, and yes, she always talks in capital letters. Little girl, loud voice. Also to the tune of a specialist, several PCP visits, and a summer cold that should have been done in a day or two, and we’re going on day 8. Her lungs just can’t recover quite like a normal 3 year old’s and it’s frustrating. So she takes her inhalers, usually without issue, (though I think it works better when she’s crying), and takes her “mmmmm mama it tastes like strawberries!” singulair at night.
Maelie required some stitches and of course, when Matt took her, he let a resident do them. Now, look. I’m a nurse, and I’m all about the advancement of the future doctors of America, but not on my kid’s face. Just no. He texted me when they got there, stating that the staff was going to page the on-call plastic surgeon, and so I calmed down and waited for them to come home. When they got home, Matt said, “Oh, so plastics didn’t do it. It was just the ER doctor.”
Like, no. And it wasn’t just an ER doctor, but it was an intern. You know, the doctors who a few months ago were med students? I’m all for them suturing up my kids in any other place but their face. She is now left with another unnecessary scar on her forehead, the other being from the time I let them glue her forehead shut, when really, it should have been sutured. Lessons learned on Mae’s face.
Claire finally made it to her ENT appointment. I made it three months ago with the same doc who took out Luca’s tonsils. He’s pretty much the best in the city. (He fixes the noses of four pound babies, people. He’s an angel.) So, when they say, “Oh…the next appointment available isn’t until August…” and it’s May, you smile and wait.
She’s had issues with breathing out of her nose since she was probably 4, but the more pressing issue at the time was her vision, so breathing took a backseat. It wasn’t until the past year or so that she started to complain of her awful sleeping habits that I finally took it more seriously. We got her a fitbit, which tracks sleep, and after watching her sleeping habits for about a month, I realized that she wasn’t being dramatic; she was waking every hour. I would go in and listen to her, and the snoring – oh that was awful. But what the worst part was was her startling herself awake when she’d stop breathing.
We had taken her to my PCP and a specialist thinking that it was psych related, her nightmares and poor sleeping. And sure, part of it was, but when I physically saw what was in front of me, I knew that we needed to take action.
Plus, the constant stuffed nose has to be so annoying for her.
So we went, and even before he did a physical exam, he looked at me and said, “Wow, you can hear it in her voice.”
Her exam revealed exactly what I expected to hear, and then some. She needs her adenoids out (figured) and she needs turbinate surgery* (what the crap?) and oh, hey look at those giant tonsils! Those need to go, too. (Dammit.)
He spent a good chunk of time with us in the exam room, mulling over the tonsils. He could see them and that they were enlarged but not so much he thought they’d have to go. But when he looked one more time, Claire was able to drop her tongue down and he went, “WOAH, yup, those are going to have to go, too.”
*Turbinate reduction (also known as turbinoplasty or turbinectomy) is a surgical procedure that reduces the overall size of the turbinatesallowing for airflow which results in symptommatic relief of nasal obstruction and congestion.
So joy of joys, I get to go through another kid’s surgery at the end of next month. Luca is a laid back kid. He handled his surgery fantastically. Claire is a whole other animal. She spent the next morning making herself feel sick with worry to the point where she left taekwondo early. When she got home, and told me why she was home early, we talked it out and I suggested she try to go back. I explained how you can physically manipulate your emotions into making you feel awful or better. Taekwondo would have made her feel better, if she let it. So reluctantly she agreed, and when I picked her up a few hours later she was happy and back to normal.
Last night, while I was making dinner, Matt got the kids ready to take them for a bike ride. He usually runs and they bike along side of him. I was straining the pasta when I heard the door open and Luca screaming, his shirt bloodied and Matt looking frantic. He managed to jam a gear on his bike and super-manned it over the handlebars and took a chunk off of his jawline. If the skin had still been there, I would have bandaided it up and called it a day, but something that large missing was best to be looked at, and Matt was insistent on taking him to the ER. Off they went and I made sure to make my needs known.
Because of the location, no sutures were able to be used and he got steri-strips instead and a giant bandaid. He’s loving all the extra attention and retelling his tale over and over, each time getting a little more heroic.
And I’m back to thinking, Should I or should I not construct a giant bubble for my kids to live in, just until I build the funds back up in the HSA?
Where’s the wine?
I’m out of wine?