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there'd be days like this my mama said. Or a week of days like this. It has been a tough week. The kids had their first swim class in 3 years on Monday--not bad. Only bad thing was that I didn't know where the towels needed to be for all 4 of the kids--who were in 4 different parts of a fairly big pool complex--so poor Denny was shivering. A lifeguard had mercy on him and shared his towel with him until I got over to him. It is a LONG walk around the pool when you are trying to hurry but not run! Rebekah seemed to be cold but I didn't think much of it b/c her hair was wet and we went from a fairly cool water place to air-conditioned van to air-conditioned house. We ate a fast lunch b/c we needed to go get my mom. We drive over to the nursing home, I go in and sign paperwork promising to bring my mother back in one piece, and get her gingerly into the van. I drive to Kettering Hospital. I'm taking her to the orthopedic surgeon that I have taken her to for at least a dozen appointments over the past 2 years and what do I do? I park in the wrong parking lot! I'm running a bit late so I know that since I had gotten everyone out of the van and in through the horrid spinning revolving door that they have--who EVER thought that it was a good idea to put that at a hospital??!!--that it would take me longer to get everyone back into the van, put the walker back into the back, buckle Grace back in her carseat to drive back to Southern Blvd., down a block, up by Emergency, into the parking garage, push the little button, wait on someone to answer, tell them I'm there to see Dr. Ames, then wait for the gate to go up, then park the van, get everyone out, grab the walker, help Mom out of the van, walk in the door, up the hallway, etc., etc. I knew we'd be later than if we just trek over to the other building and to the Dr.'s appt. But, that entailed walking past surgery waiting area, through the main lobby area, down a hallway, through the emergency area and out the door, across a drive way, into the Boonshoft building, up a floor in the elevator, then up the hallway (why exactly did they put an uphill ramp and long hallway to get to an orthopedic office anyway??). By the time we got to the main lobby Mom was tiring out. I don't blame her. I was tired too. Not physically, mentally. I knew I needed to get her safely to the appointment and go get the van and park it in the correct place. But I digress (how do you spell that again?). A KMC employee saw that we were having a tough time and I asked for a wheelchair for Mom. She flagged down a volunteer and we had Mom off her feet and on her way to the appt. We got there just about 15 minutes late but just in time to go right back. (After Denny and Grace had to take a potty break.) They take the staples out from her knee replacement surgery (second knee done on July 15th), I try to keep Denny, Grace and Rebekah quiet and out of the way. Mom has an x-ray and the Dr. releases her to go back to the nursing home (where she is getting physical therapy). I park Mom and three out of 4 kids in the lobby and run with Grace all the way back to where I erronously (I know I'm butchering spelling today but I'm too tired to care) had parked the van. I locked Grace in her carseat and drive to the right parking garage. I get out, get the kids and Mom, take Mom back to Miamisburg, get her checked in and the first thing everyone asks is "When did the Dr. say she could go home?" Well, I don't know. He didn't say and I had been too flustered to ask. I go back to Mom's room and settle her in. I call the Dr.'s office about 3 times before I get to talk to someone who could help me. The new problem is that the Dr. is in with a patient and they'd have to call us back. I notice that Rebekah is now laying on Mom's bed and she's pleading to go home. I tell Mom that I'd let her know what the Dr. says and leave. I get home and I have a voice mail from Mom & Dad's home health care nurse. She said that Dad has a rash the size of a football on his side and that he'd probably wouldn't tell me. Great, he had just been to the dermatologist less than 2 weeks ago and his Dr. said he was doing wonderful and not to worry about coming back for 6 months to a year unless something comes up. Here it was. I called the Dr.'s office--get him signed up for Thursday morning. Called Dad to tell him about his Dr.'s appt and for him to let me know if by chance it would go away before Thursday. I call Mom & Dad's nurse and she seems pretty matter of fact, and I let her know that Dad has an appointment and to call me when she saw him on Thursday morning (before the appt.) and let me know how the rash is doing. By this point, I'm feeling very, very fried. Tuesday, I had to be over at Kingston (the nursing home) to have a visit with all of Mom's health care workers so we can discuss her progress. It went well, she's doing well. They disappointed her by saying she is to stay there until Saturday. She was counting on going home the next day (Wednesday). I was able to share my concerns in her physical therapy after she gets home. They said they would take care of that and we had a game plan in place. We go back to her room and she is kind of quiet--I think she is a bit irritated with the meeting. Rebekah is still not feeling 100% so we go home. Wednesday went pretty well. Hannah had her piano lesson. Denny was promoted in his swim class. I was able to get some really *AWESOME* books from a garage sale of a former homeschool mom. Rebekah spiked another fever in the afternoon and she is getting a growing-worse pain in her abdomen. I wait until after I put Grace to bed and then sneak out by myself to take Mom her laundry. She must have been lonely b/c she really wanted to talk. About 9:30 p.m. I had to get home. We had had friends who deal in HVAC take a look at our furnace earlier and we have issues that Paul and I needed to tend to before we went to bed. Thursday, I had already talked to Dad yesterday and knew his rash was still there. The Home Health Care nurse (Mary) called and said he still had his rash. No surprise. I get everyone up, dressed, fed and into the van. I pick up Dad, get him to the Dr.'s. We wait 45 MINUTES to be called back--grrrrrrrrrrr. Yes, I did go up to the window and inquire about the wait. I was told they were running a little (understatement) behind and that Dad was next to be called in. Rebekah, Denny and Grace go back with Dad and I when he is called. The Dr. brings in a medical student so the small exam room is beginning to look like a volkswagon! I see Dad's rash for the first time. Ugh! It is huge and it is angry. Bright hot pink and wet. Great. I had quizzed Dad about what he had been using on it but of course he can't remember the name of it. The Dr. said it was a definite allergic reaction--much like poison ivy--and that we needed one medication to dry it up and one medication to calm the reaction. He then said about having someone to check it every day for signs of infection and someone to go to his apartment and see what he used on that area that made it so inflamed. We reviewed the plan of care, said thank you and filed all of us back out of the room. The kids see stickers so of course we have to stop and get one for the three youngest. I know, they weren't the patients but they qualify in my book. Boy, not only am I learning patience with all of these Dr. visits but so are they! We get to the lobby and I realize that I still have to stand in line just to set up a three week checkup for Dad. So much for the 6 months to a year that I was told just 2 weeks ago. His visit was scheduled so we pile back into the van. Now I have to formulate a plan. I have a prescription that he needs filled. Okay, no problem. I'll just take that to Kroger's--they'll deliver it for him. But, he needs this Domesboro's or whatever it is called to dry up the weeping rash, hmmm, does Kroger's carry it? Thankfully I have the pharmacy # memorized so I call them and make it through the automatic stuff until I talk to a live person. They do have it but only a few packets--they could order some and deliver more to him tomorrow. Okay, sounds good. Get to the pharmacy--drop off prescription, update insurance info, ask about Domesboro's or whatever it was. I wait. Turns out the lady thought I was telling her someone else's name and had been looking for it in the bins as a patient name. Ugh. No, not a name of a patient--medicine that I had just called ahead about. They find it, they calculate the cost, we pay for it, I remind them to deliver Dad's meds. In the meantime Paul calls on my cell phone to see when I might be home to have lunch and whether or not leaving lunch out for me would help (since he had to head back to work soon)--yes! leave the food out, we will be there as soon as I get Dad home and I check out his apartment for whatever it was that he put on his side that he is allergic to. We get to Mom and Dad's. I park the van, get everyone out, have to tell Denny and Grace more than once that there isn't time right now to look at birds and/or flowers and/or butterflies while we are at Grandma's and Grandpa's. I get us to the door and hear "That's it, don't you talk to me!" It was Rhoda from church. It was her way of saying that we walked right past her without as much as saying hi. Technically we didn't walk right past her--she happened to see us outside and hightailed it outside to catch us. I didn't have time to talk. Rebekah is now in enough pain that she doesn't think she can make it to the apartment--I scan the yard and see a park bench and plead with Hannah to please sit with Rebekah while I run upstairs. Well, since Rhoda was nearby I told them to go visit her. I grab up Grace and run up to Dad's apartment. As soon as he opened the door I see the culprit sitting right there by his chair. Eucerin. I should have known. It gave him a terrible rash back in March (when Mom had her other knee operated) and I had to take him to the Dr. for an emergency visit. The worst part? I realize immediately that last Thursday Dad wanted me to run him to the store to pick up cream. I did. He bought Eucerin that day and I was the one that took him there. I should have questioned him about it. I should have realized that if it gave him a rash on his arm it could cause problems elsewhere. Chalk it up to experience. He can't have Eucerin anymore. I give him final instructions on what to do with his meds. I scoop up Grace and head downstairs. Downstairs there are no children to be seen. The door by Rhoda's which has a sign on it stating "For your convenience, this door will be left unlocked from 9 a.m. until 4:30 p.m." was locked. Gotta love management. I go to Rhoda's and there's my kids. She wants me to sit down, I explain that I need to get us home so that we can have lunch and run to flute lesson. Rebekah tells me she can't do the flute lesson. She feels too bad. I make sure I heard her right because she never wants to miss her lessons. She really enjoys playing the flute. She said it hurt to breathe. I call her teacher, Miss Cynthia, and tell her what has been going on with Rebekah. She sympathizes because her little boy has had several bouts with abdominal issues. After I get off the phone I call the Dr.'s office. They have changed their recording. After stating that if it is an emergency call 911, it says that the normal business hours are 8:30 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. and that we should call during normal business hours. As far as I knew, 12:45 p.m. is BETWEEN 8:30 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. so I assume they are trying to tell me that they are out to lunch. I wait until 1 p.m. and start war-dialing to try to get their normal automated message about press 1 if you are a physician or hospital, press 2 if you want to speak to the nurse, press 3 to schedule an appointment. Sometime around 1:06 p.m. I actually get a chance to press 3 and schedule an appointment with our favorite "emergency" doctor. We are to be there at 1:45 p.m. We clean up from lunch and load back into the van. I head S on 75 to pick up 675. We were listening to a book on tape,Ramona Quimby, Age 8, so I must have got caught up in the storyline or maybe it was the slow truck ahead of me that I foolishly decided to pass b/c I soon realized that I missed the exit for 675 N. I'm trying to head to Kettering and I'm on my way to Springboro. I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SPRINGBORO! I WAS THERE ONCE ALREADY TODAY FOR MY DAD'S DOCTOR APPOINTMENT! But highways being what they are, I was stuck going south until I got to the Springboro exit. I exited but b/c I was flustered I couldn't remember which direction off of the highway was the on-ramp for northbound 75 so of course, I turn the wrong way! I turn around in a driveway and get on 75 headed north. I find 675 and I make it to the Rt. 48 exit. I normally take the 2nd exit to get to our doctor's office since it is the one that points you directly north on 48. But, in my hastiness to get to our destination I get off on the lower exit and have to turn right and then left to get to where I wanted to go. Not too bad, at least I didn't pass the exit! I get us out of the van and rush the kids into the office. I sign in and apologize for being 5 minutes late. I have a short conversation with Rebekah on why she really should sit in the "sick" section of the lobby instead of the "well" section (does anyone REALLY think that it makes a difference? Think about air circulation in a closed area.) I start to sit down when I was alerted by office staff that we need to update our chart with all of our information but not to worry about putting down the kids social security numbers. LIKE I COULD POSSIBLY DIG OUT SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBERS TODAY! We are called back and do the formalities of explaining where it hurts, when did it start, when did she have fevers, how high did they get, etc. Then I get to play entertain the kids while we wait on the Dr. It was more like me warning them very quietly and very seriously that we have had a hard day and they needed to be very good. Grace waited until my purse was unattended and decided to raid it. I notice when the purse was half empty. Our "emergency" doctor is so sweet. We haven't seen her in awhile so it is like catching up with an old friend. She is very compassionate and she felt awful for Rebekah. Rebekah was curled up in a ball on the exam table. We discuss the ailment and decide that we should do a urinalysis and x-ray. The urine collection was an adventure. I had to explain to her why it was important to use the little wipe and how they only need a little bit of urine to test. It ended up with me trying to catch pee and not get soaked in the process. Fun stuff. I had to just trust the other 3 weren't doing anything awful outside b/c they were not invited in on our little potty party. Back into the van we go, we make it over to the Urgent Care but it is during THEIR lunch break. I was thrilled to be first to get a #, so I got it and drove to the Taco Bell nearby to pick up some free tacos and burritos (thanks to the library reading program). Paul calls for an update on how things are going. We head back to Urgent Care, finish our snack in the parking lot and the doors open. It felt good to be holding #1 since several other families had shown up by then. They took Rebekah back right away so it took me longer to fill out the paperwork for her x-ray than it took for them to take the x-ray. Back into the van again, I make it to the 675 S on-ramp and we are on our way home. I stifle a desire to go to Centerville Library to finish up their reading program. Today just isn't the day for that. We get home, unload, and I let the kids vegetate in front of PBS television. I start this blog entry. I talk to Mom updating her on Dad. I get a call from the Dr.'s office. Our "emergency" doc had the results. The good news: nothing extremely serious seemed to be wrong (i.e. appendicitis, kidney stones, gall stones, etc.). The bad news: she is terribly impacted with poo and it is causing the excrutiating pain. She needs to take Miralax twice a day for a couple of days to get all cleaned out. I thank the Dr. and try to figure out what to do next. It is 5:30 p.m., Paul isn't home yet, thankfully supper was in the crock pot, I load everyone up AGAIN, and head to the nearest pharmacy. Rebekah is just miserable. She couldn't tolerate walking around in the store (and I really didn't want to unload and load the van again) so I do the unthinkable! I go through the drive thru and ask for an over the counter item. I started by telling the guy that my daughter is very sick and I realize that the medicine the doctor prescribed is an OTC drug but could he please get it for me. He got it and I apologize for asking and he states that it was okay THIS TIME but it isn't policy to do that, etc. I was just grateful not to have to go in. And to sum up how it went from there, I gave her some medicine--actually a couple of medicines. There were tears, and more explanations. Paul and the other three went on to church (we are having Thursday night mid-week services in July). Rebekah fell asleep around 7:30 but woke up moaning at 8:30. She had 103.4 fever. I have given her advil and had cooled her down with wet washcloths. Paul got home, we put kids to bed. He had to go back to work so here I am at 10:15 p.m. thoroughly exhausted, wondering what will be next. In the meantime I have that cool ol' song going on in my head "Mama said there'd be days like this, there'd be days like this my mama said" with the echo "Mama said, Mama said." Today is pretty much done and we survived. Tomorrow is a new day. Like I told Rebekah, Jesus will never give us more than we can handle with His help. Boy, I need to remember that just as much as she does. |
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