Wednesday, June 13, 2012


We are having a contest at my house.  It's called "can we meet our medical deductible for the year entirely in the month of June?"  The answer, as of Friday, will be yes and I will be throwing myself a huge pity party to celebrate.

Come on over!  Bring drinks, I don't think we will able to afford them.

Jeremy had knee surgery last week and is just recovering from the procedure, but not from the surgeon telling him he can't run anymore.  Running for his is an outlet, a social medium and a passion for him.  He researches different shoes, has found the perfect "power gel" and loves the way it feels when he is covered and sweat and totally spent from a fifteen miler.  While I do not share this particular passion I know how much it means to him, and just in case I didn't his face when the surgeon suggested he take up a new sport like "biking or swimming" said it all.

Jeremy's surgery was last Thursday.  On Friday, while I was still coming down from the adrenaline rush from having the love of my life under anesthesia, I noticed that Hayden's eye was red.  Upon closer inspection it kind of looked like he had a little poppy seed in there, that would not move when he blinked.

"Do you see that Jer?  What do you think that is?"
"......huh?.....see what?.......I think I need a new ice pack....."
The spot wasn't at all bothering Hayden.  No itching, no complaining, not even much redness, so I forgot about it.

Saturday night I was heading out for an amazing evening.  A dear friend had planned for a bunch of women to to go the spa and then have dinner at an awesome restaurant.  Even without knowing that we would (1) have the entire spa to ourselves or (2) be dining in the executive suite where the chef would be coming to hang out, bring some special appetizers and discuss our dinner options with us, I was psyched and ready to go.

As my hand reached for the front door (don't worry, I had a babysitter and had not left the children with my drug addled husband for care and feeding) Jeremy called me back:  "Have you seen this thing in his eye??  What is it?  I think you need to take him to urgent care".
My mind reeled.  Me at urgent care = no luxurious evening with friends = acceptable only if child is losing limb, bleeding profusely and unstoppably.  Not acceptable if husband has gotten a bee in his bonnet about something that hadn't been bothering Hayden at all and that he couldn't even see a few days ago.

I struck a grand bargin.  "How about if I ask Chris when I pick up Kristina?"  (Chris, lovely Chris, pediatrician Chris, who has answered more than one of my "urgent" questions in his time off).
Jeremy was satisfied and when I picked up Kristina I didn't even give Chris a real chance to answer: "So, Hayden has something in his eye, no pain or fever or itching and not too red, so it's nothing, right?"  The poor man hadn't even gotten through the "probably" in his "probably nothing but..." sentence when I wisked his wife out the door.

The evening was lovely and when I returned, fuller and cleaner and drunker than I had been in awhile, the thing was still in Hayden's eye and still not causing any problems.

On Monday I took the kid and his poppy seed to the doctor because they have an entertaining waiting room and when I have nothing to do I don't mind a trip there, as long as it fits into my schedule.  Also the thing was still there so I figured it wouldn't hurt to get a professional opinion when (1) I was ready to listen to it and (2) the opinion giver wasn't still in a post-operative stupor.

The charming handsome fast talking pediatrician looked from a few different angles and made his pronouncement:
"yeah... uh..... I think there is a small bit of metal stuck in his cornea".


"Metal?  How the hell would be get metal in his eye?"
"Oh, you'd be shocked what's out there just flying around in the wind.  You get unlucky and something enters your eye at just the right angle and there you go."
So this is what I get for living close to a Superfund site.

And now it is Wednesday, and Hayden will be having eye surgery on Friday to remove the shrapnel, and I am spent.  I am tired of worrying about people, of ferrying them to and from doctors appointments, of care taking and of feeling guilty for neglecting whichever 2/3 of my family is in good health because I have spent all my energy on the other 33%.

My mom is coming (thank you mom I love you I am so glad that you are coming that I actually slept last night thank you thank you thank you I promise to actually listen next time you are trying to tell me where your health care directive is!), Jeremy is healed, Hayden is a little freaked out but mostly fine and Zeni is sick of being third on my list.  I know it will all be fine and that it is, in the big picture, a very small thing, but it has been a shitty week.  Damn it.

Is it a bad thing when I want to be admitted to the hospital just so I can have a little quiet and my meals brought to me?


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Issas Crazy World said...

Dang. I hope everyone gets better soon.

I so get the thought that the hospital would be a break. I've had that thought before. :)

Jehanne said...

I just tried to leave th is but think it didn't go through. So: will be thinking of you tomorrow...
I love reading your blog. You open up so much so beautifully and bravely.

And for the record? I've sometimes considered prison as a possible way to get a break. Hospital is a way better idea.

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