My Attempt to Be Funny After A Not So Good Few Days

Argh. Friday afternoon I pick up Preston from school and was informed he had fallen earlier in the day off a bike and hit the back of his head. OK. Thanks for phoning me. This is followed up with, "And he is saying he doesn't feel well, but he ate and slept." I pick up my son whose cheeks are magenta, his shirt is stuck to his body with so much sweat I may rip the top layer of epidermis off peeling it off and his hair-well let's just not even discuss it. Meanwhile it's about 97 degrees outside and there is not a drop of water to be found anywhere. I think Preston might be looking at me but to him I look like a giant Poland Spring bottle. And just in case you are not sure, I am kind of an alarmist. Like Web MD is bookmarked on the computer. I secretly wish I was a doctor and not a lawyer, but I would be akin to Dr. House-think an ailment is the worst possible communicable disease and then it turns out to be an infected splinter. Anyway I check the pupils, equal in size, no bump, he is hot because he has been out in the virtual desert-but I conclude we'll take the "wait and see" approach.

Saturday morning. Texted Tonya. We go back and forth and agree he's ok. All's well. We go out for a walk and that is where the day takes its turn. He comes home and presents with a 102 fever. Dammit! Who gets fevers in the summer? I start the alternating Tylenol then Motrin and he takes his first shot of Motrin. Then the complaining starts. "My head hurts Mommy." And he is touching the back of his head where he fell. So I go to the computer (my medical almanac that so far has correctly told me I have five forms of cancer, an ocular tumor and a possible case of leprosy, but what the hell-let's give it a shot). Of course I find the article about the child in the ICU with a closed head injury who subsequently developed a fever and massive infection.

We head to my home away from home for hypochondriacs-the ER. Luckily it's pretty empty on a gorgeous Saturday, I do a quick pan and conclude there are no other psychotic mothers here. He gets triaged. This is always fun. I sometimes wonder who taught these triage nurses or if they just picked people up off the street and gave them complimentary scrubs. They look at Preston (not me who is 31 and can fully give them an appropriate answer) and ask him if he will keep the thermometer under his tongue. Naturally he says "yes" as I say "no" and for some reason his answer is much better than mine so they attempt and end up with the thermometer under his armpit. They say he has no fever. Miraculously he went from 102 to 97 during the ten minute drive. We get put in a room. I talk to like fifteen people. They look in his ears, throat, listen to his chest and stomach. They decide they will do a chest x-ray because they hear some congestion (once again ignoring me telling them that his Eustachian tube is smaller and he always sounds like that). They brush me off-after all every lay person knows vocabulary that is taught to an otolaryngologist. I consent to the CT only because I feel there could be a correlation between the fever and the fall. We go into the x-ray room first, then the CT room where Preston is told it's just a giant donut machine to keep him calm. I am thinking the way these people have been today I believe they really think it's called the giant donut machine. I make them look me in the eye as I explain that the radiologist must read the scan differently because he has achon and his foramen magnum will look like a keyhole not a circle, his ventricles may be different, he has a slightly larger head. They are still not impressed with my vast knowledge and ask me instead "how do you spell that?" I want to say " you tell me," but instead spell yet another medical term and think about holding a seminar here.

And mind you his temp that they took under his arm and told me was normal? Yeah not so much. Because everyone carries the ear thermometer in their bag while going to the ER right? I take it and it's 102. I make them come in and do it rectally. Sure enough 102. I totally should be a doctor.

Long story short, everything was fine, including a urine test to check for a UTI. Nothing. Virus. I hate the virus. It seems to never go away. He breaks the fever Sunday night, goes to school only to have them call me on Monday afternoon that his fever is up. The Preston mantra is now "My head, my tummy, my back" when asked what hurts. Off to the pediatrician. Another urine test, a flu test and an ear check. Negative but the left ear looks a tad red. Oh and he was dehydrated- SHOCKER! We start antibiotics. right before the first dose we begin the fun of a stomach virus coming the other way. GREAT! Spends Tuesday with my mother. Poor thing is having "cramps" as he says. Then comes the mysterious red in the bowl which at first my mother and I are convinced is the red Gatorade he has been drinking. I am on the phone with the doctor and this time there appears to be dark red in the bowl. She tells me to go back to the ER!!!!! I leave a note for my mother who went out (to totally buy Preston a toy) and now I know she is going to freak when she gets home. My damn Blackberry is almost out of battery power at this point because after two e-mails the thing dies. On the way I am convinced he has a parasite from the nasty traveling petting zoo that came to school. What else could be causing infectious feces? (Oh I concluded it was infected because I am the pretend doctore here).

We spend three and a half more hours at the ER. For some reason we get in before everyone else-which I am pretty sure has to do with my commercial insurance that they know they can bill each time they have a useless person come in the room. Oh and in this hospital they have a special insurance person that comes in. I told her I just gave all the information on Saturday and nothing had changed. Ready? Here's the answer- "It takes four weeks to show up on the computer." I cannot even answer this. I just hand over the card. Because she is staring at me with an insipid smile. Like that actress on Meet the Parents who plays the stewardess and won't let Ben Stiller on the plane. Maybe I should post this entry in four weeks-it's here I just will not hit ENTER!

We are triaged again and again Preston is asked to put the thermometer under his tongue. I don't even correct them this time. It's more fun watching them struggle. Somehow the temp registers anyway. They make him a bracelet. He won't wear it. He tells them to put it on Mommy. The nurse is fighting with him. I grab the bracelet and slap it on. I tell her Saturday they let me wear it. She starts to go on about policy-meanwhile they still can't spell achondroplasia. I'm totally bringing flashcards next time. This time there was a very fun rectal exam for Preston and a tummy x-ray. So now I am checking to see between the x-rays and the CT if Preston has a glow around him. NOTHING!! Nothing was wrong. I now totally feel like we are on House, minus the Vicodin and the cane. He spent Wednesday with his father (who told me he could not watch him on Tuesday because he was ill). This of course infuriated me because I recall many a times watching Preston when I felt like a sack of crap because it was either take care of him or let him rot in a crib. I digress. No more antibiotic, no more over the counter meds, no more bathroom runs. He was happily back in school today. And told me tonight he needed a banana because "it helped make the diarrhea go away." Can we apply to med school now?

And to top off I got to deal with the Geek Squad yet again from Best Buy. Of course my motherboard went. And then I dealt with Apple and the reciprocity of the ITunes library to other computers, but I seriously cannot even get into that right now. I will have to save it for another time as I have probably bored you to tears. I will leave you with some pics of Preston making cupcakes prior to the Saturday ER visit!