Wednesday, July 10, 2013

...I'm Working on My Muscles...

I had a busy extended holiday weekend.

My mom wasn’t feeling well again so we spent seven hours in the emergency room and ended up leaving with a prescription for Motrin and instructions for her to follow up with her regular doctor.

I can’t believe those people get paid for that.

But mostly everyone was nice and we were lucky to get a room. They had those half cot/half gurney thingies lined up all the way around the hallway. I saw some injuries that I still can’t explain including a guy that I can only assume got himself stuck halfway into something.
He was sliced up pretty bad, but darn evenly on one side of his body from head to toe. The other side was completely unscathed.
Like when you hit reverse on your paper shredder.

Anyway, this puts me back on the hunt to try and play medical detective to find out what’s causing my mom’s issue since no one seems to know anything.  I have to be fair and say that one nurse did suggest something that I suggested to my mom ages ago, but I guess some things sound better coming from a medical professional than your obnoxious kid.

Something has to happen though because this is far from the norm for my mom. On a scale of zero to ten her pain tolerance is about a 590, so if she says something hurts, then that means the average person would be dead of pain by now. I’m trying not to think about what it could be.

It’s hard to know with her since she’s so nonchalant about these things. One minute she was barely mentioning it while we were getting ready to go out and the next minute, she didn’t look so good and said she needed a minute to lie down.

But hospitals they cure you one way or the other because somewhere around hour five she was ready to get out of there. “The longer I sit here, the worse I feel.” If she was still in pain she sure wasn’t going to tell anyone. She just wanted to be discharged and go have a steak dinner.

The next day she was already feeling a little better. “Just a little, teeny tiny bit” [of pain] she said which is great. But we don’t want to make a habit of having to go back to the hospital every few months for relief.

So, I remain hopeful and confident that we’ll find it and get her completely well soon.

After all that my weekend didn’t end without a little positive excitement:

I accidentally potty trained someone’s kid, who for now I will refer to as Poopsie.

Poopsie’s mom told me she would run away screaming, “no, no, nooooo” anytime she even saw the potty chair.  And now thanks to me (huge pat on my own back) she will plant herself on the throne after every meal.

You know I’ve done everything I can to avoid the smaller kids where I volunteer but for some reason they just stick. You only need to spend a little time with one before you find yourself covered in infants and toddlers.

Poopsie is in the phase where she likes to strip off her pull-up and run free.

I didn’t really have the energy to chase her and forcibly diaper her tushy, so I sat down with her and explained I could only consider allowing her to streak around the building if she was potty trained.

And that was it. She completely proved my theory that little kids can understand us even if they don’t have all the words yet to speak back.

About a half hour later she shyly walked up to me and using the quietest voice I’ve ever heard her use said, “potty.”

Of course, I freaked out.

“Did you just say, ‘potty’? Really?”


And off we fled to the chair so she could do her duty.

When she was done she asked for “wipesh” with the “h” on the end. Cutest thing ever, and another example of how sometimes the smallest, silliest things can make your day when everything else feels gloomy.

She gave me a tight hug before she left that day. Then linked on to my arm and tried to drag me out the door with her. Amazing how surprisingly strong kids can be at that age.

By late Sunday afternoon I was trying to wind down and relax a little before the new work week.

Sprawled across the bed I laughed at what I must have looked like trailing at top speed behind a toddler who didn’t seem to recognize the difference between me and her life size Elmo doll. I wondered if I was like that when I was that small. I wondered if I would be like my mom when I got to be her age.

I wondered if strong people know how strong they are when they are exhibiting that strength.

Or is there little difference between that and the exhaustion you feel sprawled across the bed on a late Sunday afternoon.
~ ~ ~
You will notice that all of this week's earworms are perfect for dramatically singing along...

Queen – Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

Young & Company – I Like What You’re Doing to Me

I originally received this from a friend without the name of the artist and spent weeks thinking it was a lost Steely Dan track

Mayer Hawthorne – Reach Out Richard

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