And the Sickness Marches On...

I was up all night last night with Logan. His asthma is kicking in, his tongue bright red and full of tiny red bumps. Each time my head hit the pillow and I started to dream, I was awoken again, my clumsy feet leading the way into his room, until I collapsed into a wadded ball at the end of his bed.

I get up from the fetal position this morning and notice a HELLA rash on Annabel. Her tiny leg is covered in bumps and new ones are forming on her hands and arms.

I pack Arwen off to school (fully medicated and on the mend).

One trip to the Doctor confirms - throat infection, and ear infection x2 for Logan. Infentigo for the baby girl.

Right now Jimbo is the only family member not currently taking (or having partaken via shot) an antibiotic.

And all I want is some sleep.

The longest call...

Today I took life by the balls, calling up the counseling services provided by Jimbo's employer. It was one of the most difficult calls I've ever made, placing myself bare and raw across a phone line to someone I've never met and don't know.

The girl on the other end was very nice, listening attentively and taking down my information. She referred me to someone in my area and I had to make yet another call - this time leaving a message that I realize now was garbled and difficult to understand.

Hopefully the counselor managed to salvage my phone number from within the confines of the rambling message and will call me back to arrange an appointment.

On one hand, it's terrifying. On the other - it's one HELL of a relief.

In Living Color - Delta Airlines Ebonics

Okay - this is SO not politically correct but I laughed my ass off. Go ahead, flame away, but I dare you not to chuckle!

I'm not depressed!

I took a trip to see my family doctor. She's still new to me but so far I like her. She gets the "girl" thing better than my male physician did previously. I was certain she would understand my need for a medication to get me through this short period of stress in my life. Considering everything that has transpired.

I told her everything - minus my nice imparting words to my sister - and she listened thoughtfully. I explained I didn't want a long term medication, just something to ease the way for the next few weeks. I've been unable to sleep, I'm edgy and nervous, and it's slowly taking a toll.

She tells me she'll, "put something together that will work for me", and then leaves the room. When she returns she hands me a sample of Lexapro and a prescription for it as well.

Let me just say I think Lexapro is an awesome antidepressant. I used it for several months after Annabel's birth. It got me through a really difficult time and I praise it's gloom eclipsing glory.

BUT.

I am not depressed.

And this isn't the first time I've had someone try to pawn off a medication like this for anxiety. (When I was busting my balls, working a two jobs and attending college full-time, my 'then' doctor tried to do the exact same thing.)

I suppose she worries depression might follow and it's simply smart thinking on her behalf. But what in the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime while I'm still losing sleep and I have an occasional but debilitating panic attack?

For the first time in my life, I demanded something for my nerves. I've never, EVER, told a Doctor to prescribe me something before. But I knew that if my family contacted me, I would need something more than Lexapro to smooth the way. She didn't like it but complied with my request and gave a prescription for Xanax.

For those of you that read the blog, especially if you deal with anxiety like this, do you have to ask for something to keep you from losing your shit during stressful periods? Was I wrong to tell her the Lexapro is well and good but I just don't need it?

Get out of Jail Free Card

When she smiles at me, I forgive her anything.

OKLAHOMA "People Will Say We're In Love"

Everyone has one romantic movie they can't get enough of, one they go back to time and again, and Oklahoma is mine. I fell in love with Gordon MacRae in middle school and have loved him ever since.

Anyhow, this is one of my absolute favorite songs from the musical.

"That" kind of Person

So today I go into the Neuro's office and the nurse notices the tattoo on my forearm (it's new, got it a few weeks ago) and says, "Well, look at you with a tattoo. You don't look like that kind of person."

This got me to thinking, what does a "tattoo person" look like? Truth be told, when I didn't look like one to her observant eyes, I had three. Sure they are all in nifty locations on my body that make them difficult to see, but they still exist.

So tell me, what does a "tattoo person" look like? Do I need a Harley, set of leathers and a couple of piercings?