Colman and I are headed to Houston this morning for bloodwork, echocardiogram, X-rays and an appointment in transplant clinic. I’m anxious to see what the doctor has to say at this appointment. According to my records, Colman has not grown at all in the past several months, but I’m hoping they’ll be able to give me a quarter of an inch or half of an inch. I’ll take anything. My method of standing him against the wall in his bedroom where I’ve put a pencil mark and the date is not very scientific, so it’s entirely possible I’ve missed a couple of centimeters somewhere.
I’ve enjoyed not having a million doctors’ appointments here in San Antonio and in Houston. We did see the pulmonologist last month because Colman was complaining that he didn’t feel like he could breathe very well. The way he was describing his symptoms, I was worried it could be a bronchial cast or reflux. I was hoping reflux. All of his lung function tests came back good, so the pulmonologist ordered a prescription for Prevacid and within a few days, Colman was feeling a lot better.
Then the week before last, my nephew kicked off a whirlwind of doctor activity for our family by stuffing a rock up his nose on the playground at kindergarten.
And here is the rock.
My first thought when my parents were telling me about going to pick him up at school was, I cannot believe my boys have not done something like this, as I was crunching with each step through our pebble rock driveway that’s full of stones that are just perfect for sliding up little nostrils. The second thought I had was, That’s bullshit my brother sent our parents to do the walk of shame and pick up Carter, but that’s probably just my jealousy that they all live in the same small town rearing its ugly head.
When my parents inquired of Carter about the rock and how it got up inside his nose, he denied all knowledge. I can’t tell you how much I love this part of the story. It makes me want to give Carter a great big hug when I see him at Christmas, which I know he will not appreciate. However, upon further questioning by the ENT, Carter came clean and confessed to jamming the rock up his nose. That’s when the doctor replied, “You know, that’s what pockets are for.”
How come I never get a funny doctor?
Hunter posted the above pictures to Facebook with a caption, “$396 later. Merry Christmas, Carter!”
I replied, “I don’t think you can really call yourself a parent until you’ve hit your out-of-pocket insurance maximums at least a couple of years in a row.”
I think that’s when I jinxed myself because two days later I got a call from the school nurse that Liam was horseplaying in the hall at school and hit the side of his head on the corner of a locker. In her medical opinion, she thought he had a head injury because he was complaining of a headache, pressure behind his left eye and nausea which are all signs that point to a head injury.
Or he could have looked up “head injury symptoms” on Google, but I couldn’t very well leave him at school. (This is the problem with children having internet access.) I picked him up and took him to urgent care. The doctor felt he did have a concussion and sent us for a head CT which came back normal, but he’s had to take it easy this past week to give his brain time to unscramble.
Then my sister Holly sent me a selfie. She had flu and pink eye, and she looked like death. I will not post that picture because in doing so, I am positive she would drive to San Antonio, cut me and burn my house to the ground.
I’m hoping after today, we’ll get another little break from the medical world for a while. At least until we’re out of flu season. I’ll let you guys know about our clinic appointment hopefully tomorrow or Monday.
Until then, eat up and feel free to channel all your calorie and fat intake to Colman.