With an arsenic chaser, please…..?

Day from hell.  No, from right PAST hell, and out the other side.

First, not sleeping. Not sleeping sends the fibromyalgia into Massive Overdrive. Add to that the entry of a weather front–definitely not a good sign. So we’re into the Vicodin first thing.

Good news flash! Our CYS worker has smoothed the way for a clean intake for the Captain’s foster care placement next week. Sigh of relief.

After I check that email, though,it’s off for a morning of defending survivors of domestic violence, helping out the local legal services agency, overloaded with 14 cases the same morning. Worried all morning that I won’t finish in time for my early afternoon meeting with the partial hospitalization team at the Captain’s current placement. Stress=more pain. Hurrah.

Settle all the cases I’m responsible for. Yay! Get home in time to even take Little Miss and Dr. Do-Bee-Doo to Mickey D’s for lunch on the way to Erie.

Meet with the team and the new doctor. Even the Cabana Boy can finally participate by phone, for the first time, which is good, because the Captain’s current living circumstances are at his insistence. I get worn out defending it. (Even if I have nothing else to offer instead; the Captain’s been through my entire repertoire already.)

Finish there, leaving feeling pretty positive for a change, and head to Erie County Farms for a grocery stock up before K and her family come next week. This is a crazy place, for those who don’t know it, where people mob the counters, sometimes steal food from each others’ carts, etc., but mid-afternoon halfway through the month is usually better. I leave Dr. D. with a list of cheese to get at the cheese counter and take Little Miss off to gather everything else, two tasks that usually take about the same amount of time.

We’re busy shopping, when we notice a stir among the store workers, who are rushing around looking for something. Or someone. Turns out they’re looking for the parent of the little boy who’s just had a seizure.

Oh, yes, Dr. D.

So we make our way over and check him out. He’s a little pale, but he looks ok. He had a couple of fainting spells several months ago at a comics convention with his dad, but dad hadn’t fed him first. This time was a little different. Some bystander called the ambulance, so while we were waiting for them, Little Miss was a little antsy, so I give her the number and list and ask her to wait for cheese. Like three feet from me.

Good enough.

Then the ambulance shows up, and the crew checks him out, and his vitals are fine. I explain we’re from out of town and I want to get him checked out at home. They’re fine with that. We sign some papers and then I turn around and Little Miss is gone.

Finally the lady at the cheese counter says, “Oh, I sent her back to the other cheese counter to get the fresh mozzarella.” 

OMG. I thought I’d die. I can’t leave Dr. D., in case he seizes again, and I can’t go look for her. I’m like…are you kidding? The cheese lady much have figured out I was freaking, because she came out and asked if she could go find her. (Granted, she looks old, she’s 5’4″, could be 14 or 15.) So I mention that she’s autistic, and the cheese lady says, “Oh, I thought so. I’ll be right back.”

She goes to look for her. But Little Miss, exercising the common sense she’s so gifted with, wanders back to the last place she saw us when she can’t find the cheese. Bless her! The cheese lady comes back with cheese in hand and we go to check out.

I send the boy to the car to rest and wait, making sure the last thing I say is “Leave the door open because the car is hot.” I check out and come to the car, which is all closed up and about 105 degrees inside. Banging my head on the van really doesn’t help (tho it does feel good when I stop…)

So we head home, calling the pediatrician en route, who wants to see him as soon as we’re back in town, of course. So we swing by there, and she sets an appointment at Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh for next week for an EEG, no pool or baths in the meantime so he doesn’t drown. I’m making the Cabana Boy take him. I’ve handled the whole Captain debacle, and I’m too damn overwhelmed working four jobs while he spends all his spare time on the computer. So this one’s his.

At least it was the day my delightful cleaning woman was here and the house was clean. And K’s coming next week. Otherwise I’d just go ahead and jam a stick in my eye or something. *sigh* Definitely more vicodin on the menu for the night…and a hope that tomorrow is a better day.

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5 thoughts on “With an arsenic chaser, please…..?

  1. I’m so sorry you had this day. Tomorrow will be a different one and life will try to work it’s way into some semblance of calm. I know it will.

    ::love to you::

    Shawna

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