Know how breastfed babies are suppose to be super healthy?
My breast milk didn't get the memo because poor Blair has had more ailments than I can count. I also didn't lose any weight, so I guess my body didn't get the message about what wonders breast feeding are suppose to do.
But that's beside the point.
The point is that about 3 months ago, Blair got sick. I gave it time to clear up, since it just seemed to be a simple cold that we all passed to each other. But he never really got better & was quite the unhappy baby. Cue me feeling like a shitty mom when I found out he had an ear infection...a really. He never pulled at his ears or anything, we did notice he didn't like laying on one side, but we thought that was just a comfort thing. Nope, turns out I'm a shitty parent who never once thought, "hey, maybe something is up!"
Anyways, Jules had an ear infection once. He was about 4 months old. Took antibiotics & he was all good. Has been since. I figured that's how it went.
Again, I'm an idiot & was wrong.
A couple days before his 2 week re-check of his ears, so just a couple days after his meds are finished, he's miserable. Up all night screaming. To urgent care we go.
Ear infection. More antibiotics.
This...this will kick it's ass! That's how these things work. And it did.
Until 2 days after he finished his new antibiotic. Then we were back to being miserable. Back to the doctor we go.
Another ear infection. This is really loads of fun, let me tell you.
This time his doctor says this earns the poor guy a referral to an ENT.
I was hoping that this new antibiotic would be the cure that I wanted.
Wrong. About 3 days after that one was done, scream & miserable again.
BACK to the urgent care. Another antibiotic. A doctor who talked about his ex-wife the entire visit. They aren't on good terms, let me tell you.
A couple days later we get to go to the ENT. Shocking...he has lots of fluid behind his ears, still a minor infection, & his tonsils were stage 4. Don't know what that means? Well, 0 is not there. And 4 is as large as they can possibly be. The ENT said they usually assume the adenoids are the same size as the tonsils.
Tubes. That was the word. And that was our decision. Of course, it was hard for me because growing up my parents thought tubes were pointless, they refused to have any inserted in me. I was a sickly child. Same reason, "not believing" in getting things like that or tonsils removed was the reason I had to have my tonsils out at 22. So I had to keep telling myself that this was the right thing to do. And even if they popped out in a week, at least the original fluid & infection would be drained & hopefully that would be enough to clear up this infection from hell.
At this point, I decide that Blair is totally my child. Seems to have my immune system. Let's just hope he's got my wit, too.
After lots of paperwork juggling to make sure they got paid by my insurance, we had a nice pre-op appointment so they could weigh him & look in his ears. Totally worth that 90 minute wait to see the doctor for 2 minutes, let me tell you.
In our waiting, I got tired of trying to keep my nosey baby contained. So I decided to let him just be nosey.
Of course, then he found the papers.
We got to play alot of "mommy, fetch!" while waiting on the doctor.
Of course, I was also stared down by good mom penguin.
I kept thinking she looked smug, like she was saying, "look at me bitch, I'm taking care of my baby! Your kid has to get man made materials put in his ear drums...lame ass mom, you!" Or maybe she was thinking, "Oh bitch, what would babycenter peeps says if she saw your kid out in PAJAMAS?! Lazy whore of a mom you are, bet you don't even put your shopping cart back places either."
Eventually they wanted the crazy lady (me) out of their office, so they finally tell me to leave. As I'm leaving, a nurse asked if he could have a stuffed bear. Being tired & trying to joke, I blurted out, "As long as it's not stuffed with used needles, sure!"
...that got me some looks.
Speaking of looks, check out what a looker he is.
He's all like, "pre-op...is that what it's called when you feed me noms?!"
I then go home & clean because I'm a good wife & mother & that's what we do. Yep, we do.
Eventually the surgery center called. They wanted to do intake stuff over the phone, but still wanted me to come in person to do the money talks. Ugh...money talks.
I got to answer fun questions about Blair at this point.
Is he married?
Does he work?
...I finally asked if she knew he was 9 months old & she told me yes, as if I was weird for wondering that. I guess they get lots of working, married 9 month olds. My kids are lazy though, Jules still won't get a damn job.
Anyway, I was coming up with reasonable answers until, "does Blair have any reglious or cultural beliefs that we need to be aware of?"
I couldn't help but to respond with, "Yes, yes he does. He belongs to the Church of Wonderpets & he thinks this is swerious."
At least she was some what amused by my response.
Later in the day I got to make the journey over to the surgery center, where I was given a number on a piece of notebook paper & told to wait. So I did. While no one else was there. And they were getting ready to leave in 45 minutes. Finally, number 27 was called. I jumped up like I won the lotto. Little did I know that they'd won the lotto from me.
Long story short, they wanted $500. She asked how I'd like to take care of it then. I asked if she would point me to the money tree, that's how I'd take care of it for her. She laughed & whispered that she hates to ask people that, because she knows people don't randomly carry hundreds of dollars on them, but she has to.
As I'm waiting for her to type in stuff that says I'm a poor person who has to pay this $500 over payments, I look at the sheet of stickers she has for Blair's chart. Something is...off.
Like the fact that Blair is not a female.
I asked if F did indeed mean female, & she assured me that it did & that they put that on there because they don't want to mess anything up.
I then said, "I don't even want to know what surgery you'd mess up that you need to put that down, but I can assure you my Blair is a boy & I'd like him to stay that way."
They fixed it. Thankfully.
And finally, it was surgery day.
They did indeed fix it.
Every time I see his name & middle initial, I always want to yell out, "Blair-O!" for some reason.
He got a little baby surgery gown.
And he was all like, "do they know this is swerious?!"
They took him back. Then it was over. Then nothing happened. It was a very anti-climatic ending to the story. He came home & crashed.
And later that day, he was like nothing ever happened. It was shameful really. Here he is playing peek-a-boo.
And now, he is healthy. And now, helpfully, he stays that way. He just finished up a week of topical drops for the light infection he still had, so I'm hoping to get through the next few days without a trip to the doctor or urgent care.
But if there is, there better not be better-mom-than-you penguin in any room I go in. I can't take her stare.