Loverly, just loverly
Boy, was yesterday interesting. Upon leaving here and picking up Tickle, I was told she had 4 very watery, uh, bm's. No teetee. So, I decided to take her to Lake After Hours. I emailed JJ who was about to leave work and took off for the homestead. Lu, in the meantime, poops again. It's so silly, she tells me "Pew pewwww." So pitiful. We get home and hop in the car. When we get to LAA, they tell us we have to go to Ochsner next door. We get there and it had just closed, at 5. So we head home to call around for someone who'll have us (remember she's between DRs?)and she hurls in the backseat! Ok, ok, fine. We make it home, take the diaper bag out of the trunk, change her, clean the carseat and JJ finds out North Oaks Hospital of Murder has an urgent care thing. So he calls. They don't open till 9 pm. In the meantime, their clinic in Walker is open till 9. No appointment needed. Kewl. So we hop in the car and drive over. Where is it? We just know Walker South. Thankfully since the clinic can only be in three possible places, we find it. They have a 2 1/2 hour wait. Earggh.
Heck no! We are soon in our car again on the way to Ochsner After hours in Baton Rouge. The traffic is, well, worse than usual. Bad. But we do finally arrive to find it has closed at 6. Starting January 3rd. Yesterday. O.k.
Well, being the levelheaded mom I am, I burst into tears of frustration, first cause my child is very ill and I can't help her, second cause the medical community is obviously very fugged up. No wonder the North Oaks clinic in Walker (also known as Flucker) had a 2 hour wait! There's no where else! But there had to be, so I prepare to call the 1-800-number on my insurance card. I have to say "MEMBER!" than some other crap I couldn't understand, so I said "OPERATOR!". "Please hold for someone to assist you". Great! Someone could tell us where to go! I envisioned pulling into a little clinic, perhaps in South Baton Rouge and coming out of it with a healthy, cheery baby and maybe 3 prescriptions in tow.
"We're sorry. Our offices close at 6. Please try your call tomorrow."
SSSSSSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuu!
Whhhhhuyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
SO. SO! I see how you wanna be, Humana!
We go back to Walker. But first we get stuck on the interstate behind a wreck.
We arrived, fortunatly the wait was more like 30 minutes, but they locked up the building 5 minutes after we got there, which was about 8. Some kids needed to get in, but they wouldn't let them. They were'nt scheduled to close at that point for 45 minutes. I was enraged. I knew the feeling so well.
The nurse brought us to room 2 and tried to take the Tickie-Lu's temp, but to no avail. Couldn't weigh her either. Clara was wriggly and pissy. They weighed me holding her and not holding her. I've lost weight, btw!
In the room, she "pewpewwwws" again. I asked Jamie to hold her so I can get the diaper bag out the trunk. The nurse let me out and I unlocked the truck and opened it.
The diaper bag was in my living room. Yes. At home. In Hambone.
BUT! The nurse was pregnant and had a box of newborn diapers in her car!!! We had a diaper! It was tiny, but wonderful!!!!!!! I told her it was a treat to see a diaper so tiny.
When the Dr came in, looking and reminding me but not anyone else of Rick Moranis, Clara hit the roof. Wahhhhh! Not like her to act like this, but she was sick. The first real time since birth. I credit my magic mommy boob. Yes, breastfed babies are healthier. It's proven!
He expamined her, turning away once to wince at the scratch-wound she had bestowed upon his unsuspecting wrist. The verdict? She had a double ear infection (her old Ped suspected, but wouldn't treat it. He wanted us to come back. Bastard.) an upper respritory infection (yep, he suspected this too! Dumbterd.) and she was so severly dehydrated we were to bring her to the ER the second she either vomits or defecates again. Whoa. I can't imagine how those parents, who have to watch their children fight for their tiny, new lives at St Jude do it. HOW?!?! I sat there clutching my 18-mth-old with tears just pouring down my face, shaking cause I knew she was in pain and miserable and I could have SOMEHOW prevented it! What if I would have insisted the Ped treat her?? What if, what if.
Then, to shit on the dead guy, the nurse came in and said, NEEDLE IN HAND, "I am going to have to give her this. To warn you, it's thick, it hurts like hell and she's not going to like it. You will both have to hold her down, ok? Mom, it's ok...it will GET HER BETTER asap." I felt like, well, when the cow patties steam in winter, you know? Yeah, that. And the nurse was right. She didn't like it. She also learned a new word...Ow. One, no doubt, I will hear thousands of more times in my life from her precious mouth. One, no doubt, will tear my heart out everytime and make me wish the OW was mine and not hers. So pitiful.
Sometimes I wish I could fold her up and put her back in my womb just so I know she is safe. Anyway.
As of today, I managed to get her to take her antibiotic (which causes diarreah, btw, THANKS Dr Doug MacKenzie.) by placing it in her jello and she has not enjoyed the suppositories a bit. But so far she has neither vomited nor Glo'ed. Phew!
Jamie is up now and I am so thankful he was by my side, as I couldn't have gone through that alone. After we got home, we watch the Penn St game and Clara nursed ALL NIGHT! I felt as though I had a mamogram with fangs. But if she's dehydrated, mi boobie et su boobie, homie.
Heck no! We are soon in our car again on the way to Ochsner After hours in Baton Rouge. The traffic is, well, worse than usual. Bad. But we do finally arrive to find it has closed at 6. Starting January 3rd. Yesterday. O.k.
Well, being the levelheaded mom I am, I burst into tears of frustration, first cause my child is very ill and I can't help her, second cause the medical community is obviously very fugged up. No wonder the North Oaks clinic in Walker (also known as Flucker) had a 2 hour wait! There's no where else! But there had to be, so I prepare to call the 1-800-number on my insurance card. I have to say "MEMBER!" than some other crap I couldn't understand, so I said "OPERATOR!". "Please hold for someone to assist you". Great! Someone could tell us where to go! I envisioned pulling into a little clinic, perhaps in South Baton Rouge and coming out of it with a healthy, cheery baby and maybe 3 prescriptions in tow.
"We're sorry. Our offices close at 6. Please try your call tomorrow."
SSSSSSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuu!
Whhhhhuyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
SO. SO! I see how you wanna be, Humana!
We go back to Walker. But first we get stuck on the interstate behind a wreck.
We arrived, fortunatly the wait was more like 30 minutes, but they locked up the building 5 minutes after we got there, which was about 8. Some kids needed to get in, but they wouldn't let them. They were'nt scheduled to close at that point for 45 minutes. I was enraged. I knew the feeling so well.
The nurse brought us to room 2 and tried to take the Tickie-Lu's temp, but to no avail. Couldn't weigh her either. Clara was wriggly and pissy. They weighed me holding her and not holding her. I've lost weight, btw!
In the room, she "pewpewwwws" again. I asked Jamie to hold her so I can get the diaper bag out the trunk. The nurse let me out and I unlocked the truck and opened it.
The diaper bag was in my living room. Yes. At home. In Hambone.
BUT! The nurse was pregnant and had a box of newborn diapers in her car!!! We had a diaper! It was tiny, but wonderful!!!!!!! I told her it was a treat to see a diaper so tiny.
When the Dr came in, looking and reminding me but not anyone else of Rick Moranis, Clara hit the roof. Wahhhhh! Not like her to act like this, but she was sick. The first real time since birth. I credit my magic mommy boob. Yes, breastfed babies are healthier. It's proven!
He expamined her, turning away once to wince at the scratch-wound she had bestowed upon his unsuspecting wrist. The verdict? She had a double ear infection (her old Ped suspected, but wouldn't treat it. He wanted us to come back. Bastard.) an upper respritory infection (yep, he suspected this too! Dumbterd.) and she was so severly dehydrated we were to bring her to the ER the second she either vomits or defecates again. Whoa. I can't imagine how those parents, who have to watch their children fight for their tiny, new lives at St Jude do it. HOW?!?! I sat there clutching my 18-mth-old with tears just pouring down my face, shaking cause I knew she was in pain and miserable and I could have SOMEHOW prevented it! What if I would have insisted the Ped treat her?? What if, what if.
Then, to shit on the dead guy, the nurse came in and said, NEEDLE IN HAND, "I am going to have to give her this. To warn you, it's thick, it hurts like hell and she's not going to like it. You will both have to hold her down, ok? Mom, it's ok...it will GET HER BETTER asap." I felt like, well, when the cow patties steam in winter, you know? Yeah, that. And the nurse was right. She didn't like it. She also learned a new word...Ow. One, no doubt, I will hear thousands of more times in my life from her precious mouth. One, no doubt, will tear my heart out everytime and make me wish the OW was mine and not hers. So pitiful.
Sometimes I wish I could fold her up and put her back in my womb just so I know she is safe. Anyway.
As of today, I managed to get her to take her antibiotic (which causes diarreah, btw, THANKS Dr Doug MacKenzie.) by placing it in her jello and she has not enjoyed the suppositories a bit. But so far she has neither vomited nor Glo'ed. Phew!
Jamie is up now and I am so thankful he was by my side, as I couldn't have gone through that alone. After we got home, we watch the Penn St game and Clara nursed ALL NIGHT! I felt as though I had a mamogram with fangs. But if she's dehydrated, mi boobie et su boobie, homie.