Archive for February, 2007
No, I haven’t stopped blogging. I’ve just had a tough couple of weeks. It seems on or around Valentine’s Day, is the perfect time for my daughter to scare the shit out of me and need to be in the hospital overnight. I’ve been needing to blog about this or be doomed to up my Zoloft back to 50 mg. when I’ve so valiantly recently reduced it to 25 mg. Any pharmacologist in da house? Y’all know what I’m talking about! Yes, I was sliding through life on just a whisper of Zoloft, making a deal for Naptime Is the New Happy Hour (due out next spring – YAY), registering for and dismissing preschools based on their smell, and redesigning my blog (okay, not me but the crazy talented, fun on the phone, I wish she lived in my neighborhood, Izzy
). Yes things were fine.
That is until E, who is usually full of insanely cute banter and boundless energy, woke up last week with a fever and wouldn’t walk. Not wanting to be overprotective, I decided to wait a little while and see if she would pencil walking in to her schedule when she was feeling a little better. But by the afternoon, she still wouldn’t put any weight on her feet so I called the pediatrician.
We brought her in “right away” as we were told to do by a receptionist with a worried voice. When the on-call doctor saw her, she made a preliminary diagnosis of Toxic synovitis -which sounds much scarier than it is – hence the link and we were insructed to give her Motrin every six hours and by the next day she should be fine as wine. “But, if not, bring her to Urgent Care because she’ll need to be evaluated further.” The next day she was not fine. In fact her fever was up and she was in no mood to be upright.
Rather than just rushing her to Urgent Care though, I opted to email my pediatrician and see what he thought. Being that I live in LA, my pediatrician was spending his weekend giving physicals to kids who were auditioning to be cast on a kid’s version of Survivor – I’m not joking. I wish I were. But my pediatrician whom you may have heard me talk about before, is such a saint that he told me to bring her down to the Doubletree Hotel and he’d have a look at her immediately. Past the Sunday Jazz Lounge in the atrium was my doctor’s suite which he had pimped into a makeshift examination room. Due to the magic of Motrin, E was in decent spirits but still wasn’t walking and after a thorough evaluation, my doctor determined that she would need x-rays to rule out anything more serious.
So my husband and I were off with our sick kid for the dreaded Urgent Care. After a ninety minute wait surrounded by ill but walking children and healthy but angry parents we finally got in to see Dr. Chen. Let me say this, I’m normally fairly laid back when it comes to E. I don’t cut up her hotdogs into a kazillion pieces for fear of choking, nor do I chase her around the playground yelling “be careful…careful…CAREFUL” but this doctor took me from a four to a ten in the anxiety department in record time. He opened with “this is very very serious” and closed with “could be childhood leukemia.” In between was septic hip, bone infection and a few other but all my husband and I heard was blah, blah, blah, SHE’S DYING OF CHILDHOOD LEUKEMIA.
We were rushed to the hospital to be admitted overnight for tests. To say my daughter’s a pussy when it comes to taking blood would be an understatement but to say that I’m a pussy when it comes to my daughter experiencing an ounce of pain would be a huge understatement. My husband accompanied her into the treatment room for an IV and blood test. An hour and half later, I was sobbing uncontrollably, E was sobbing uncontrollably and the male nurse was sweating so much he could’ve filled a Big Gulp cup. That’s never a good sign. He couldn’t get the blood no matter how much he tortured her. And he blamed her. Apparently, she was too “anxious.” Really? A two year old being anxious while being held down and running a high fever in an impersonal room filled with flourescent lights and no mommy in eyesight? Ya think? I kept trying to go in and console her but because I was sobbing so much they felt it would be a bad idea. Personally, I felt that they were the one’s full of bad ideas. They ended up stalling the blood work until the next day and, finally, at 11:30 p.m. Elby fell asleep, Jon and I calmed outselves with National Enquirer stories of Anna Nicole and finally fell asleep with our daughter.
Monday morning at 7 a.m. the doctor arrived to inform us they still needed blood. I argued with the doctor that E needed something to calm her down before being subjected to another round of needles and perhaps due to my strong personality, I finally convinced them to give her a little dose of something called Versed (which I heard a reference to on ER last Thursday). Turns out we all could’ve used a bit of this and if anyone knows were to locate it on the black market – I’m in.
Blood was drawn with a minimum of tears and trauma and sent for results. Other than the fact that our daughter was acting hilariously tipsy – and on a side note, I thought of those people who got their kid high and had the tiniest moment of sympathy for them. Then, I went right back to wanting them to get the electric chair. But still…it was kind of funny seeing her acting like a sorority chick.
Two hours later we were told that all her blood work came back clean and perhaps it had just been Toxic synavitis afterall. I wouldn’t gone on a rampage but, by then, E was not only walking but escaping her room clad only in a diaper and wandering into other kids’ rooms saying “hi!” as brightly as can be, climbing on the scale in the hallway, and touching all the pictures of crabs and seahorses on the wall. Luckily we took her home before she contracted a strep infection.
So all’s well that ends well but, let me tell you, I appreciate every second with my daughter even more than I did last week if that’s even possible. Everytime I look at her I thank God that she’s mine, that I made her, that I willed her into this world. I’m not usually the corny sentimental type (at least on paper – at home it’s a different story) but DAMN, I love this child like my heart’s in a vise, like every part of my being depends on her happiness and well being in this world. It’s a huge job being a mommy and it comes with buckets of tears that I didn’t even know I had in me. Luckily, there’s Klonopin! Not to sound like a bumper sticker but hug your babies today – for me.
Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 26, 2007 7:56 pm
First off, thanks for your nice comments! I would respond to them when they come in but they always say “no reply” or most of them. What’s up with that? Anyone blog savvy? It’s not that the comments are anonymous it’s just that they don’t come from an email address. Anyway…
Today Show: I’ve got to say, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. As a lot of people have commented already here and other places, both Meredith and the doc lightened up quite a bit. I talked to Dr. J before hand and told her I was just going to stick by the fact that a drink or two is not a big deal around the kids and she could say whatever she wants. Melissa had given me the advice to have a little blurb in my head that I could repeat whenever. So, in my mind I just kept thinking “we’re talking about moderation, here.” Those emails were ridiculous. Especially the one from the MAN that just said I don’t think women should ever drink around their children no matter what the reason. Okaaaay. Bottom line, there were fresh bagels in the green room.
The more interesting part of the story to me, and then I will open up the floor to questions, is that the night before, having just flown in, I couldn’t sleep. Not the half asleep but keep waking up kind of insomnia but the full blown I’m not even tired right now and my mind is racing like I’ve had eight cups of espresso insomnia. Not good. Of course, like all those stupid commercials for sleep-aids, the more I thought “shit, I’ve got to be on tv in 5 hours” the less sleep wanted anything to do with me. So, after watching at least 5 hours of an NYPD Blue marathon (which I’d never seen before and I must say, it was a good show – although (tangent time) wasn’t Rick Shroeder supposed to be on it? There was no sign of Mr. Silver Spoons on any of the episodes I saw), I got up showered and prayed the Today Show would have Visine. They did. And then I went out and did the show on pure nerves and caffeine. Oh and I was really really drunk.
So now I’m home and having slept last night, I feel back to my normal slightly irritable self. And I have a blister on my foot from wearing heels for two hours. I never ever wear heels. I like to be able to run at the spur of the moment. So just wearing them for that long made my heel bleed. I tell you, I’m not great at being a girl. Not that I was a gender reassignment surgery or anything, I just feel like a complete fraud in a dress. Yet, I’m obsessed with lip gloss. Hmm…something for a therapist to sort out I think. On second thought, maybe I do need more sleep.
Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 8, 2007 10:49 pm
I’m leaving tomorrow morning unless I get cancelled at the last minute while the car is waiting for me outside like last time. But, barring that, I will be on a plane and on the Today Show Wednesday morning. I’m sweating more than a church full of hookers but I’m sure it will be fine. I mean, it’s not like it’s an intervention right? It’s not, for sure, right? Hello? Do you guys swear this isn’t an intervention?
Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 6, 2007 2:24 am
I’m not even a Christian, which I’m sure you’ve gathered from my obvious Jewiness: my love of gefilte fish, smoked salmon and smart nerdy guys in glasses. And yet…I married a WASP with a better sense of humor than I’d be sure to find on all of Match.com. So, yeah, now we have a baby, eat bagels on a regular basis and my husband once used the word meshugena (sp?) but I think he may have been funnin’ with me. So, not being a Christian you’d think I wouldn’t be overly concerned with hell. But I think I’ve found it and it’s a place that serves soup, day old pasta and salad to adults for 9 bucks and 2 year-olds eat free. What could be hellish about that, you ask? A lot.
Now that you have a child, just try to go out on a Saturday night at 5 p.m. You read that right. 5 p.m. my New Yorker friends are putting their head in the microwave right now. Yes, you can’t even go out at 5 with a toddler without experiencing huge lines and other harrowing events.
My husband, Jon and I started the afternoon taking our daughter for a walk on the Santa Monica pier for an after-nap activity. We decided to pick up our 80-year-old ex-neighbor who doesn’t have a lot of pals and is always looking for someone to hang around with to listen to him repeat old war stories.
Everything started out fine. Okay not fine. At the risk of my husband reading this, which he will and then accuse me of complaining, which I am…I had a stomachache. The kind where you think about it constantly becuase you may at any time need to duck over the rail and let that Lean Cuisine you mistakenly had for lunch fly. Plus, I was listening to story after story from the ex-neighbor which I’d heard before and trying to look polite which is hard when you don’t know what’s going to come out of your mouth after your next “mmhmmm…tell me more about your Guatamalan maid’s family and how well you treat her …..”
Finally we got off the pier and to our fancy dinner destination “Soup Plan-ning to Kill my Spirit.” Have these people ever heard of a sneeze guard? FYI look into it. After balancing a plate for the toddler who had no idea what she wanted and was going by color theme alone, we finally found a table. But it turned out the man sitting at the next table was puking his guts up into some sort of orange creamsicle goo while his wife was acting like he was paging through Newsweek – which completely ruined my husband’s appetite. he’s delicate that way. So he’s not eating, our 80-year-old neighbor is eating really slowly, the toddler is screaming in an escalating way that is making me feel that I should be taking her out of the restaurant before they start losing business not based on their menu. I did finally remove her, by the way but not before
enjoying a few bites of Splenda chocolate mousse which somehow caused an even bigger screaming fit with the child.
I took her back to the car where we proceeded to just hang out while my husband was subjected to more war stories as if his wife and daughter hadn’t just lived one of their own. Finally, they reached the car, we all came home, we let E watch TV cause that’s the great kind of parenting we practise, I read her a Hannukah about Dreidles cause we’re JEWISH dammit and because she can’t let the holidays go. Then, finally, we put her to bed. Am I having a glass of wine?
Posted by Stefanie Wilder Taylor on February 4, 2007 6:13 am