SS sneaked behind me as I was closing the van's sliding door. Our doors are heavy and we both have learned to give it all we have. It knocked her on her back. Now we are waiting at Urgent Care.SS holding an ice pack to her forehead is a first. She has never allowed us to place a cold compress on her body, let alone hold it herself. Another reason I worried, she was obviously hurting.
Thankfully she is no longer crying and blue. The receptionist reassured me that "this happens all the time." Then went on to tell me that her husband once brought home the wrong baby from day care. At least he did not give the baby a head injury.
Guess we'll finally get SS's first urgent care visit, and the visit from the nice social worker out of the way. Way to go me!
All smiles until the doctor walked in. SS is fine and I was just being overly cautious. SS manages to run into walls daily, head bumps are not new to us. What scared me was the amount of force I knew I used when closing the door (and how it knocked her back quite a bit). It is not unheard of for a person to develop complications after what seemed like a minor hit. Way too much precious stuff inside the head not to be cautious.
I was shocked that SS is only 26 pounds of love. We both must be deteriorating rapidly, because it takes a lot more strength to schlep SS around. She is now a full 36 inches tall. When I voiced my incredulity at SS's weight, the nurse said "Chill Mom, she is doing just fine, she is a big girl, big for an 18-month old." Really Nurse Clueless? I informed him that she's three, and his answer was "Oh." A big pet peeve of mine is people calling me Mom. Only two people in this world have that right, my kids. How difficult is it to look at the mother's name or simply ask? It think it is incredibly rude to do that.
On a nicer note, I told the nurse about my last visit and he did not remember me, but remembered SS and the concern about left side appendicitis or diverticulitis. I told him about the surgery and my return tomorrow for the take down. The nurse was pretty shocked to hear how bad it was and went to get the doctor who saw me that day. The doctor did not remember my face (I am very forgettable), but totally remembered SS, and said he was concerned about the outcome. At least I had the opportunity to thank him.
I never realized how difficult it is to cook when you can't taste the food, never done it before. Yesterday I made chicken tetrazzini, this morning made pinto beans a la El Pollo Loco, and after the urgent care detour, I made pasta with carbonara sauce. A bonus is that SS loved the carbonara, saying yummy, yummy with each bite. I have never had so much home cooked food in our freezer. Regardless of how I feel post op, it will give us the opportunity to hang out without worrying about having to cook, and most important, to focus on SS.
I did find out that SS, like her father, is all about watching me being poked and prodded, but not herself. As soon as she saw the doctor the smile disappeared and the tears began. A total mini P. Not kidding about that, when P had wrist surgery, he neglected to collect his post op urine for the nurses. The man is a camel and could not replicate the deed, so they were going to insert a catheter. P went ballistic, he was so scared, child like. He kept telling me, "Baby, please help, I can't have that done to me, I won't make it." Men can be such lightweights. I have had a few and even managed to remove them twice. Not intentionally, I was heavily sedated, uncomfortable and before they could react I took care of the discomfort.
I'm off to down some of that G0d awful liquid I have to drink. No way am I taking all 4 liters.
Thankfully she is no longer crying and blue. The receptionist reassured me that "this happens all the time." Then went on to tell me that her husband once brought home the wrong baby from day care. At least he did not give the baby a head injury.
Guess we'll finally get SS's first urgent care visit, and the visit from the nice social worker out of the way. Way to go me!
****Update****
All smiles until the doctor walked in. SS is fine and I was just being overly cautious. SS manages to run into walls daily, head bumps are not new to us. What scared me was the amount of force I knew I used when closing the door (and how it knocked her back quite a bit). It is not unheard of for a person to develop complications after what seemed like a minor hit. Way too much precious stuff inside the head not to be cautious.I was shocked that SS is only 26 pounds of love. We both must be deteriorating rapidly, because it takes a lot more strength to schlep SS around. She is now a full 36 inches tall. When I voiced my incredulity at SS's weight, the nurse said "Chill Mom, she is doing just fine, she is a big girl, big for an 18-month old." Really Nurse Clueless? I informed him that she's three, and his answer was "Oh." A big pet peeve of mine is people calling me Mom. Only two people in this world have that right, my kids. How difficult is it to look at the mother's name or simply ask? It think it is incredibly rude to do that.
On a nicer note, I told the nurse about my last visit and he did not remember me, but remembered SS and the concern about left side appendicitis or diverticulitis. I told him about the surgery and my return tomorrow for the take down. The nurse was pretty shocked to hear how bad it was and went to get the doctor who saw me that day. The doctor did not remember my face (I am very forgettable), but totally remembered SS, and said he was concerned about the outcome. At least I had the opportunity to thank him.
I never realized how difficult it is to cook when you can't taste the food, never done it before. Yesterday I made chicken tetrazzini, this morning made pinto beans a la El Pollo Loco, and after the urgent care detour, I made pasta with carbonara sauce. A bonus is that SS loved the carbonara, saying yummy, yummy with each bite. I have never had so much home cooked food in our freezer. Regardless of how I feel post op, it will give us the opportunity to hang out without worrying about having to cook, and most important, to focus on SS.
I did find out that SS, like her father, is all about watching me being poked and prodded, but not herself. As soon as she saw the doctor the smile disappeared and the tears began. A total mini P. Not kidding about that, when P had wrist surgery, he neglected to collect his post op urine for the nurses. The man is a camel and could not replicate the deed, so they were going to insert a catheter. P went ballistic, he was so scared, child like. He kept telling me, "Baby, please help, I can't have that done to me, I won't make it." Men can be such lightweights. I have had a few and even managed to remove them twice. Not intentionally, I was heavily sedated, uncomfortable and before they could react I took care of the discomfort.
I'm off to down some of that G0d awful liquid I have to drink. No way am I taking all 4 liters.
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