Then for added excitement, I had an emergency dental appointment on Monday too, one that, unless one of us was on life support, I couldn't miss.
I had a standard regular old appointment last week and while there asked about this sore patch on the roof of my mouth that had popped up a day or so prior. All hell then broke loose as it seems that somewhere in my quest for a nice smile, one of my teeth has died and the bone around it is dying and all sorts of other fucked up shit, and it may now be in danger of leaping dramatically out of my head. Great. All this work and I may be soon be smiling like a frickin' pirate. And because it's happened so quickly, this tooth developing a "pocket" thing (along its entire length)(!), all the appointments are URGENT as we don't know how fast it's progressing. Their guess? It's fast.
AND, I've started a new job this week and have had to cancel classes before I even started because Son v Work? Is not even a question.
AND, I'll probably be starting fertility treatment sometime in the next week too, unless I'm already pregnant which, HAHAHAHAHA.
Translation? Doubtful. Highly.
AND, in there somewhere I need to fit in my usual orthodontist stuff which is a standard every six weeks thing, but this time it's merrily fallen in the midst of all these crises.
I feel slightly pressed for time, is what I'm saying.
So tomorrow morning's crack of dawn appointment with the orthodontist has been rescheduled in order to see an endodontist at the crack of the crack of dawn instead, and I now have to wait an extra week to see the orthodontist, at which time I intend to tell him to take his artwork (for he really has performed some magnificent aesthetic feats) out of my mouth because, after this last week, I just can't stand it any more.
I've been very lucky in re the orthodontics as "some people's teeth move slow, some move fast, and yours move REALLY fast". Direct quote, no lie, so it looks like I'll be getting this framework off my teeth soon anyway.
The scene is during a random appointment three weeks ago to repair some post surgery broken brackets. The players are, me and my orthodontist's associate.
Him: "From the looks of things, these will be coming off soon anyway, so I wonder if I even need to do these repairs?"
Him: *ring ring* "...?"
My orthodontist: "Repair, as we need to take more time to move the bottom teeth even more now because the top ones have proved to be SO FREAKIN' AWESOME*".
So the only reason I need to wait longer than Right Now, Twinkly Teeth, is that my teeth have moved SO well, more that it was predicted as possible, and we've got to do more work on the bottom teeth to keep up. So it's good news on the Pretty front, but bad on the But I Look LIke Shit Now Thank You Bands one.
POINT BEING, I don't care how well my teeth are moving or how much potential they have to make me look like a toothpaste commercial, right now, this minute, I want them OFF.
But back to Daniel, who is the point of that whole intricate story being told.
And the point is that I had to drag the poor thing along with me on Monday morning. I'd called in to tell them he was sick, but the tooth thing is such an issue that they asked "Um, how sick?" before encouraging me to find a way to come along anyway. By the time we got there, thanks to some well timed iboprofen, Daniel was clingy, but not uncomfortable or upset for around 45 minutes. Daniel's favorite squeeze, Enn, had arranged to meet us there so she could drive him around he wilted in his car seat, but because he was THAT much better by then, we canceled that plan in favor of having him languish on my chest while smiling coyly at my dentist and his nurse for the entire time.
That appointment led to this morning's emergency one with a periodontist (who said that after all I've been through in re my face and teeth and BLABLA, it's great (and possibly confusing) to see that I've still got a smile on my face. Which is why I need this tooth to not fall out and why I've appreciated having bands. Well, not so much NOW with the bands, but WILL do, because I'm a smiler. I smile genuinely and a lot, so to finally ge able to do so with a nice smile will be freaking awesome. Dead tooth, listen up :scowly serious face: ) and tomorrow's subsequent on with the endodontist.
As stated previously, and which is again veering from the point.
Which is, we had a doctor's appointment for Daniel after my dental one, because while I'm sure some (a lot?) of you think I'm some kind of spirit stick waving hippy, I'm not an idiot and will always get a medical opinion because assuming your kid's fever is just a fever IS idiotic. Get confirmation that it's just a fever, is what I say, and then sit back and wait it out. Or, as it went on Monday, if your kid has tonsillitis, get him treated sooner rather than later so that he doesn't get any sicker.
The doctor also commended me for a) not rushing Daniel to the hospital with his 40C temp. He agreed with calling an ambulance if he had a febrile convulsion, but unless he got worse, avoiding taking him out to wait in a cold and germy waiting room was preferable, and for b) not waiting another twelve hours (and I quote, "like most parents do", HA) to get him to the doctor because, as he was being treated so early in the piece, he won't get any sicker than he is. And, he said ominously, he could have got sicker, to mere concept of which boggles my mind.
Maybe I've been spoiled by Daniel's good health, but man, it was SO awful during those early hours of the morning. Gah, waiting for the iboprofen to kick in, which it did marginally around 45 minutes after taking it, and then staying around for only three hours anyway (and the dose recommendations are "every 6-8 hours". AWESOME), and then stripping him down and virtually tossing him in the freezer until I could dose him again.
Oh, and the doctor commended me on taking him outside into the chilly predawn air wearing only a nappy to get his temp down. I figured I was just being lazy, but he thought it was less of a shock than a cold towel and much less traumatic than a cool bath. So, sportsfans, I rule at this Florence Nightingale shit. Obviously.
Daniel is SO much better now that it's almost comedic. He's had two days off childcare to hang around at home, and to see him rushing around you'd never think he could barely lift his head such a short time ago.
He goes back into care tomorrow, and I go back to work. In the meantime, I've lost over a hundred dollars in potential earnings, and forfeited two days worth of childcare fees. I hate that I can put a price on my child's wellness, but despite my preference to not work, I do work, so I can put a monetory value on a sick day.
Which is another good reason to not work! Free sick days, woot!
*possibly not an entirely direct quote