Web MD

Middle Child has a complaint. She's been directed by Dr. Mom to take ibuprofen, ice, and rest. Dr. Mom also suggested a consult with the orthopedic doctor and physical therapist. Despite all that disregarded advice, Middle Child used the internet to self-diagnose herself with shin splints. She shared the diagnosis with her mother last night explaining that shin splints could lead to stress fractures. She also proceeded to list the appropriate treatments for those with shin splints: ice, rest, NSAIDs, evaluation by a physician, and possibly physical therapy. Really?!

Mileage

This weekend marked a couple of post-op milestones. The recovery period from the knee replacements turned out to be a bit more that the few weeks that were scheduled out in the calendar between July and August. After 7 (and a half) months, the mister and I passed the turn we usually take on our one mile walks. In continuing onward, we committed to two miles. The kids who run and skate many miles daily were not particularly impressed, but it was a big deal to the grown-ups at least. With no ill affects from Saturday's lap, the mister and I knocked out two on Sunday.
Not only did the weekend signal the reinstatement of a reasonable exercise, but another, less important, little goody was added to the list of new Can-Do items. Sunday morning, a pair of high-heeled boots that had been relegated to the give-away pile were back in circulation. Along with the heels, out of the recesses of the closet came a pair of extra-long, dark-washed, makes-me-look-skinny jeans. (Okay, not skinny so much as thinner. It's still a win.) The wardrobe change was as unexpected as the walking distance, but almost as good.
There are still a few more unresolved issues post-operatively speaking. Skater Girl tries to refrain (She's a big fan of, "If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all.") from commentary, but her face still says, "Ewwww!" whenever she happens to see my legs bared by shorts or a skirt. I'm also aware of the less-than-stellar appearance of those four-inch seams running up and down each knee. And the accompanying scars above and below from the robotic apparatus being, um, temporarily attached during the course of the procedure. (Ew.) And the ones on the sides from a couple of later minor procedures related to complications. Okay, the kid's right. Those new knees are ugly as sin, but maybe not so much when encased in those might-as-well-be-skinny jeans.

Heady Stuff

Happy Birthday to me. I eyed a certain mirror in the boutique portion of our local market for months. It was finally marked down, but I failed to act before someone else bought it. It was a very good surprise to discover that someone else was my mister.
We added a pair of super-sized wall sconces to grace either side of the mirror, and the mister installed all the goodies.

In other news, I spent the better part of the weekend in bed with Bowling Ball Head. Fortunately, my brain failed to successfully claw it's way out of my skull. Unfortunately, the head cold coincided with Girls Night Out to celebrate my 38th birthday. (That's an indicator of the level of Badness: GNO is practically sacrosanct, and one is treated on one's birthday. That's not to be missed.) The near inability to so much as stagger down the stairs made driving, dinner out, and (Dear Heavens...) movie theater sound seem less than appealing.Thankfully, the Girls are all available to make this Sunday special instead.

Waiting

Dr. Seuss's Oh, the Places You'll Go!, refers to Waiting Places. (One does tend to wind up there from time to time.) Despite a range of dates, we're stalled in one such Waiting Place for answers as to when The Boy might be home.  The insurance company required a switch to their in-house pharmacy for I.V. medication infusions this year, and January saw a four day wait for the administration. February's wait is at a week and counting... That Waiting Place leads to the waiting room outside my doctor's office this morning to determine whether or not a cold has blossomed into an ear infection. Waiting on a friend's medical scan, is now waiting on an appointment with a Specialist because the scan revealed more questions rather than answers. These are the gloomier sorts of Waiting Places.
Thankfully, there are other sorts. Like waiting for the coffee to brew. The wait for Shelley-in-Poland and Laura-in-Honduras and I to catch up in person while they're on their furloughs to Pleasant Suburb. The wait for the belt/blanket to develop into a string, then a belt, and now onward to who-knows-what. The wait while Skater Girl practices her stroking, spins, and jumps toward her first big skating test and resuming competition. The wait for Middle Child to come home and launch into her play-by-play of an evening at Perfect's house. Or her day at school. Or why she loves purple. My turn for the next move in Words With Friends. The in-between days waiting for Wednesdays and Saturdays when the mister and I have our dates. Opening each morning's Bible study e-mail from the church to see what little gem is waiting inside. These are the best sorts of waits. These are the anticipatory Waiting Places full of promise and potential.
That's the thing. In these Waiting Places, there is no one simple thing. There is more likely to be a whole host of just about everything. So. I'll gather my things, and sit down to wait. Eventually, it will all shake out. If not, at least we'll know what becomes of the belt/blanket with the addition of a few more rows.

Tidbits: Exams

• That fall off of the front step last week? Yeah. Ow. The good news: The exam just confirmed bruising, but no damage to the implants or fractures. A little bad news: After the exam, the ortho doc removed a granuloma (scar tissue that formed around an internal stitch) that required a secondary incision on one of those still healing knees. Ow some more.
• I flunked another batch of biopsies at the dermatologist as well. Last Friday resulted in four new incision sites between the biopsies and the scar tissue. It was not a day that should be repeated. Ever.
• Speaking of doctors, December is always a little crazy trying to fit in the Specialists. By seeing them in December, each new year can start off without a legion of doctors and appointments. That's a desirable thing. It's also a time-consuming, sometimes worrisome thing. A thing that creates increasing gratitude for insurance coverage and the mister's employment as so many struggle without such provision.
• The Boy may graduate. He's thinking he will complete high school with up to 15 credit hours of college courses. In the self-paced program, that's largely up to him, but there are other factors. I wonder if, perhaps, the Boy is again counting his chickens before they are hatched. Sometimes he just lays an egg. So, rather than, "Yay!", his pronouncements are frequently met with questions, a measure of caution, and, still, hope that it will all work out for him.
• The local high school kids are attending for four hours per day with their exam schedules this week. Yesterday, the kitchen table was populated with teenagers. They are generally funny, bright kids who aren't put off by parents, and who welcome Moms to sit with them and chat the afternoon away. They do eat. A lot. One leaves behind an added link on the paper chain that reads, "The [Our Last Name]s because they feed me!" They feed us, too... with their laughter, their energy, and some questionable Spanish language over which they will be tested today.

Step

There was badness. A full-blown oh.but.no moment was achieved.

Yesterday, was my I.V. medication infusion. During the infusion there are copious quantities of Benadryl, Tylenol, and Phenergan administered to minimize the side effects. Despite having built something of a tolerance up to the med cocktail, there's still a loss of, ah, mental acuity. The fog is made more interesting by the sometimes still-gimpy post-operative gait employed in teetering about the house. This is a recipe for trouble, so there's usually encouragement to remain seated during the treatments.
The meds and the gait came together with an infusion being given on trash day this time. (Perhaps Gentle Reader is unaware of a deep, personal desire to put out as much recycling and garbage as can possibly be scrounged each week.) Sitting at the kitchen table cutting out strips of paper for our chain reflecting all that we have to be thankful for, I heard the sound of the trash and recycling trucks approaching. At the same time, the big bag of non-biologic medical waste came into focus spurring a race to grab the bag and beat the truck to the bins out front.
I made it to the door in near record time. Fumbling with the handle, my mister called out that it was already too late. Undeterred, I ambled out onto the brick porch thinking I could stuff the bag in the neighbor's bin if the trash man saw me waving the bag in an attempt to flag him down. Usually, the step off the porch onto the uneven, steeply sloped expanse of the front lawn requires caution. Except the medication cocktail, rush, and desire to reach the trash truck resulted in flight after the initial step down. One foot on the grass, and suddenly there was nothing but air until the concrete sidewalk came up to halt the body in motion.
After being told to avoid impact activities, it seemed like landing directly on my knees was probably a bad thing. The next thought was, "Holy-night-oh-my-word-that-freaking-hurts-are-the-neighbors-watching-I-can't-get-up-there-goes-the-trash-truck..." Stuck on all fours with both hands scraped (but rather glad they hit the cement just ahead of my unscathed face) it registered that the front door was closed--- with my mister and the nurse both inside still thinking I was loping along trying to discard my bag of trash. I called out for the mister, but it seemed like a feeble attempt considering the roaring of the trash truck heading off down the street. Another try brought the mister to the door, and he covered the distance from the porch as quickly as I had, but with retention of his dignity.

Both knees were already swelling. In the fall, a tear rent the knees of my still newish jeans and bloodied the skin underneath. A call was made to the orthopedic surgeon to let him know that all due care and caution had not been taken of his handiwork. Once the infusion finished, and all the owies had been cleaned and dressed, it was with a certain relief that I crawled into bed to sleep off the last vestiges of the meds and rest my somewhat battered body. Fortunately, this morning I seem to be not much worse for the wear; though, there is a heightened caution in approaching the step off the porch. Because that first step is a doozy.

Tidbits: Preparation

• Skater Girl's home rink is surrounded by excellent shopping. That makes the 6:30 a.m.-9:00 a.m. skating sessions look really attractive for the next five or six weeks. That time of day falls before even the extended hours many retailers have scheduled. I just don't think I have the patience to navigate through the masses likely converging on the shopping center who are operating on too little sleep, time, and money while attempting to meet increased demands on all three.
• Tomorrow, the mister and I will trek into the downtown area for a sonogram of my neck. There's a radiologist there who is supposed to have a great eye for recognizing Thyroid malignancies via ultrasound. The clear scan from last August was negated by some blood work, so we are back to watching the bump found in June for a possible recurrence of the cancer treated successfully two decades ago.
• The assignments for Thanksgiving Dinner have been given. Our hostess only requested that we bring a corn casserole, chocolate bread, and the wine. It's hard to get much easier than a make-ahead treat, a single baked dish that's prepped in advance, and a couple of bottles of Reisling. Thanksgiving Day will be a relaxed one with great friends who have genuinely made us part of the family.
• The girls and I are thinking we will skip Black Friday. We are unsure just what traditions to try to resurrect this year. Some of our humbug hangs on as we face the third holiday season without the Boy. The mister is ready to return to the enjoyment of more cheer, but his girls are still unsure how to get the spirit of Christmas Past into the present.

Fevered

Skater Girl is home sick for the third day in a row. I suspect she could have gone to school today. Still, there exists a sort of "Murphy's Law" regarding ill children with elevated temperatures. A few of the basic tenets include:

• Sending a child who barely ran a 99.something temp to school will result in a raging fever that gets measured in the school nurse's office.
• A child who ran a 99.something degree temp 23 hours prior to the start of class has 50/50 odds of being well (if kept at home) or of spiking a true fever (if sent to school).
• Making a doctor's appointment is an effective means of reducing or eradicating fever.
• Behavior is a poor thermometer. The same child who ran laps around the yard, spent twenty minutes on the trampoline, and then wrestled the dog into submission can measure a toasty one-oh-three.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of the fever-related lore one picks up by parenting or simply working in schools or childcare. This does catalog the list of reasons behind keeping Skater Girl home one more day. (Well, not that last one. It's more representative than literal.) She appears to be over her illness, but she's been busy knocking out her make-up work. I figured it wasn't worth sending her in to school and risking the call to pick her up after a slight temperature was marked yesterday afternoon. Hopefully, all the other parents in her class have similar thoughts this year as we head into cold and flu season.

Frequency

Despite kids figure skating and running cross country last weekend, it was a Four Square injury that landed one of the lovies in the pediatrician's office for an x-ray. Skater Girl's best friend seized on a momentary distraction to spike the ball. Said ball caught Skater Girl's ring finger. The next day, three hours of ice time were punctuated by our girl squatting down to place her injured finger against the ice. Since it was swollen and bruised, our pediatrician saw her during "Saturday Sick Clinic". He informed us that even though it was just a finger, it could be fractured which might cause "serious contracture," and, if a fracture was present, a consult with a hand surgeon was warranted. Seriously?!

Middle Child has a history of fracturing her growth plates--- especially in her ankles. So when the doctor took a long hard look focusing on Skater Girl's growth plates in her fingers, it was a little concerning. Fortunately, the girls could not be more different in this particular area. Skater Girl was pronounced fracture-free and sent home with her ring and middle fingers taped together. It was a a nice change to have a once-and-done appointment after our experiences with Middle Child who tends toward multiple appointments plus a series of physical therapy visits for injuries.
Last night, Middle Child mentioned that her knee was hurting. Mmmph... Fortunately, she has a meet tomorrow. It's fortunate because she won't be running at 5:45 in the morning. Which means she will not need the first period of the school day for showering after practice. Our orthopedic doctor (the same one I saw yesterday for a follow-up on my knee replacements) happens to be leaving town tomorrow. As a result of his weekend away, he starts seeing patients tomorrow an hour earlier than usual. That means MC can be seen during that open class period, and that any sort of serious injury can be ruled out before she runs in the meet scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
While I appreciate the convenience of Saturday and early appointments, patient service could move on to the Next Level. Perhaps some sort of frequent shopper program could be set up with our health care providers. Maybe every tenth visit free? Or perhaps a free coffee for Mom with purchase of a regular visit? This could definitely catch on as we head into cold and flu season.

Teeter Totter

After avoiding the procedures for a couple of years, both knees were partially replaced in July. A few weeks were blocked out for the recovery period. It turns out that the recovery period is more like several months. It's literally been baby steps from waking up post-op to discover that getting out of bed was going to be a Herculean task. In the past week or so, the final "assistive device" has been put aside almost all of the time. Without that cane, my gait is sometimes a bit off.
The mister says I look like I'm trying to sneak around. Assuming that the standard for, "sneaking around," is on par with a Scooby Doo cartoon villain that creeps about slowly with arms raised, he's pretty close in that assessment. Adding to the oddity, occasionally balance is lost and the creeping takes on a wheeling quality not unlike a small child playing at imitating an airplane or bird. Completing the picture, when tired, there's a lovely lurching gait when moving from place to place; otherwise, I just teeter a bit.

The family has taken to announcing that, "She's had both knees replaced recently." They figure this will prevent people from beginning to whisper that I drink. All the time. Because that's pretty much the appearance. When the Homecoming Date came in to meet us before taking Middle Child out for ice cream, he was informed twice because everyone wanted to make a good impression. As part of the rehab process, I've taken to walking a mile circuit through the neighborhood. Toward the end, not one, but two neighbor ladies were doing double-takes as I careened through the final two-tenths of the mile this morning. Awesome.

Tidbits: Excuses

I have been an absentee blogger. The reason include, but are not limited to:

• Little Bit bumped up three full levels in her ice skating. That's the result of a whole, whole lot of time on the ice for her, in the bleachers for Mama, and in the car for us both. The twinkie skating dress has been ordered, and it is seriously girly. There will definitely be a picture post when she hits the ice in that sparkly, floaty, blue dress.
• Middle Child's knee injury turned out to be a hip problem. We now attempt to fit multiple physical therapy appointments into days with no wiggle room.
• I spend more time arguing with Middle Child than it will take to write this post. This morning there were 5 separate arguments before 7:30 a.m. The next 7 came in the half hour it took to drop her sister off for school, get her to physical therapy, and then on to school. I have threatened to charge her a quarter for every argument. Maybe a triple charge should apply prior to my first cup of coffee, too.
• Artist and I have been reading and discussing The Hole in Our Gospel by Richard Stearns in preparation for our upcoming trip to Puerto Lempira. Stearns refers to the need to understand that over 26,000 children die every single day from the realities of not having sufficient food, clean water, or basic medical care. I think of every single child living with less than enough whose name is known to me and pray that not one of those will become part of that hideous statistic. I cannot wait to wrap those kids in hugs. Hurry up, May 31st...
• The Boy's room is being transformed into a guest room with a beachy, homey feel. Soothing neutrals, chambray blue, and palest green fabric make up the quilt on the queen bed that was given to us to begin the process. When Evan called this morning, I described the changes, and he said it sounded like a room worth coming home to one day. How I hope...

Flunky

Uh-oh. I flunked my most recent skin biopsy. I flunked the one before that, too. As a result of my repeat offenses, the practitioner took three small, deep samples to send off for pathology this morning. Two weeks ago, I was really tickled to have only had one biopsy when I fully expected her to choose two sites. Now, I am praying to go in again for these results in two weeks and hear that all the margins are clear. That the tissue samples are either normal, or that all abnormal cells are contained within the samples and the edges all the way around (the margins) are clear of anything but nice, normal skin cells. If that's the case, then I'll get my stitches out and go on my merry way for 3-6 months before having to be rechecked. If not, then there will be more surgery to remove more tissue until the pathology comes back clear.

Kneed

People have four large muscles in their thigh. (This I know mostly because a doctor said so yesterday, and another one backed it up today.) Middle Child's special place in the shallow end of the gene pool involves one of those muscles being underdeveloped compared to the other three. She happens to be in the thrall of those fabulous teen years characterized by rapid growth as evidenced in an x-ray showing her growth plates to be open and a physical exam that showed a range of movement that allows for wobbly knees. All of this good stuff came together a day or so ago in a knee injury that is causing MC substantial pain just as track season kicks into gear.
She was seen yesterday in an orthopedic practice (where they already know us both on sight). The specialist pretty much informed her that she should start physical therapy in hopes of stimulating the muscle electrically and with specific strengthening exercises toward a goal of trying to correct the inequity. She should expect to be in pain, have an ongoing regimen of NSAIDs and icing the knees. Or... she may need to reconsider running.

Holy [fill in the blank].The kid runs. It's what she does. Delivery of the news that she may not be able to do it could have been handled with a little more delicacy. Or a lot more. Top that off with her stoicism during the exam followed by her exclamations of severe pain as soon as we got back in the car, and the visit was hardly satisfactory. Last night, Katie was in so much pain that she was in tears. This morning she felt better after a night of rest, elevation, and ice on the knee. I juggled to get her scheduled with a physical therapist starting next week, again requested that the track coach keep her out of athletics, and dropped her off at the curb for school this morning.
Except she was in pain again. After almost reaching the Children's Shelter where I was scheduled for a morning shift, I turned around to head back to the middle school to pick Middle Child up for the second appointment in as many days. This time we were seeking a second opinion from our pediatrician. His estimation was that there's probably another year or two of rapid growth to go, and then Middle Child's stride should stabilize. He feels that a simple neoprene stabilization sheath for the knees + ice + NSAIDs for one week only + reduced activity should help with the pain that is caused by a sprain.
Our regular doctor also noted the muscular inequity that could lead to future knee injuries, probably contributed to this one, and thinks physical therapy is a great idea. Katie felt much better after hearing that she is not necessarily done running, but that she is more prone to injury caused by the muscular inequity coupled with the awkwardness of the early teens. She's definitely feeling more hopeful after hearing the expanded explanation, and I am much more comfortable with short-term medication and long-term therapy while we wait to see what only time will tell.

Earful

Since there is no trash pick-up as we are accustomed to in the 'burbs, the trash at House of Hope is periodically burned. This happened the last night of our most recent stay. The smoke from the fire behind the guest house sent Erin's allergies into hyper-drive. She managed to get to sleep with a Benadryl and the use of most of a packet of tissues in efforts to keep her nose clear. She woke the morning of our short flight from Puerto Lempira on a small plane with a head full of crud. By the time the flight landed at the regional airport in La Ceiba, Erin was in tears from severe sinus pressure and ear pain.
She was stoic on the drive back across Honduras to San Pedro Sula, and picked at her lunch. Her energy level seemed to revive when she saw the swimming pool complete with slides at the hotel. She swam in the sparkling water with her sister, and thoroughly enjoyed the hour of goofing off after the week in Puerto Lempira. She crawled into bed right after returning to the room while everyone else took turns running through the shower. When we checked on her, she was burning up with fever.
We had no way to check her temperature without a thermometer, and were not comfortable going out into San Pedro Sula in hopes of procuring one. The hotel offered to call an ambulance, but that was really the only option they could offer. We decided to treat with the antibiotic prescribed in case of illness during travel by a provider in the U.S. and ibuprofen to try to keep the fever in check. The following morning, we were all tense from a long night with Erin's continued illness, but relieved when 4:00 rolled around so we could call for check-out. The shuttle to the airport was due to depart at 4:45, but the driver was ready early. Just before we could leave, Erin raced to the restroom where her stomach went into total rebellion. We added an anti-emetic to stop the vomitting. We pulled out of the hotel compound praying to be able to stem her symptoms for the next eight hours. The goal was simply to get her home, and get her to a doctor.
We arrived at the airport, checked in, and Erin dozed while we waited for our first flight. Her ears hurt terribly on the short hop from Honduras to El Salvador, but she knew there was still one more flight to go. I phoned Walker, who would be picking us up at the airport, to warn her that she might want a barf bag in the car, but Erin ate little and the medication seemed to be holding her belly at bay. The fever continued, and the ear pain grew worse. The relief of reaching home was short-lived, and we found ourselves at an Urgent Care Center before we had even shaken off the dust of our travels. The only information gleaned from that wasted visit was that Erin had a high fever, two infected ears, and no Strep or Flu.
By the following morning, her ears were bleeding and the fever continued at 103 despite the administration of Ibuprofen and Tylenol. She became sick and dizzy when she tried to stand. The infection raged for over a week. Our pediatrician saw Erin every 2-3 days. By the end of the week she was on three oral antibiotics and an antibiotic ear drop that finally worked together to combat the infection.
Our pediatrician of 14 years commented that he had never seen an ear infection like it. Erin was no longer hearing out of her left ear by the end of that week, and as the infection cleared the doctor noted what he referred to as a gaping hole in her left ear drum. He determined that we would recheck the ear drum a week later to see if it was healing naturally, and, if not, then we would return to the audiology and EENT team that previously corrected Erin's hearing issues.
Our prayers for complete healing were answered this week! We visited the pediatrician to hear the news that was largely expected after watching Erin spinning on the ice during a skating session an hour before the visit. He ears look excellent, and the hole has completely closed with new tissue. Erin's hearing is likely at least normal, and she is not experiencing any of the issues with her balance that came with the severe ear infections. Dr. K. pronounnced her cleared to travel, but she just looked slightly horrified by the announcement. Having made two trips to Honduras in the past few months, Erin has concluded with the horrors of her return trip home that she does not wishto return to Central America anytime in the near future.

Tidbits: Results

• In acknowledging God's power to heal in response to prayer, there must also be acknowledgement that He will decide when and if... and He will be right, or faith is fickle. With Mr. T's next EEG to test for seizures less than a week away, Green Girl says it well. It is not solely the results of prayer that express the power of prayer or of God.
• My chest CT was clear. My blood work was not. That could mean that thyroid levels are loopy because of decreasing estrogen levels. (Current hormone levels are kind of like highly-caffeinated kindergartners on a trampoline sans adult supervision. Whee!) My lymph nodes remain clear of any sign of cancer related to that thought to be previously cured, or the specter of those that go hand-in-hand with immune deficiency.
• An arthritis flare is in full swing. Fortunately, outside is a solid sheet of ice that has resulted in widespread cancellations across North Texas. Tomorrow's forecast high of 29 degrees (Fahrenheit... ) and tonight's low of 6 degrees (still Fahrenheit...) are unlikely to allow melting. That means I can wait out the flare without missing anything since almost everything in this portion of the Lone Star State cancels at the mere hint of wintry weather. 
• The Super Bowl is second only to the weather in today's local news programming. Fortunately, both the teams arriving in anticipation of playing in this week's big game are from places more accustomed to cold. Not that I'll be paying much attention to the game (despite more than a few friends who are die-hard fans of the teams playing) because, unlike most Texans, football.makes.me.bored.

Ongoing

I am waiting. (Again.) Diagnosed with pediatric Thyroid Cancer twenty years ago, I take thyroid replacement hormone in an effort to prevent any regrowth of the cancerous thyroid tissue decimated in the 90's by surgery and subsequent radiation therapy. Sometimes, cancers recur. Having just failed a lab test, I'm going in to see the endocrinologist today to see if regrowth might be the issue causing the lab results. If there is a recurrence of the previously cured cancer, it would be helpful to know sooner rather than later. If not, then it would be equally good to get the labs back in line quickly since my hormones are out of control at the moment causing everything from insomnia to acne. While not exactly blase, I'm not particularly freaked out either. Thyroid cancer is easily treatable, and my immunologist and I both had the same comment in regard to the possibility signalled by the blood work results, "Well, that's got potential to be inconvenient with the travel schedule to and from Honduras." Hardly something to fret over, friends, and lovely that this doctor completely gets my priorities and helps make it possible to live life rather than simply preserve it.

Request

Ah, it's a funny thing how one can come to feel a camaraderie with those whose worlds are given view through the words, photos, and videos shared on blogs without ever having met. Having followed the ups and downs of Green Girl's Team Testosterone over the past couple of years, it is with hope that news of another trial to take her Mr. T off his anti-seizure meds is received. Perhaps this is the time, and so, I will pray. Absolutely. Resolutely.

Tidbits: Sticky

• I totally forgot about that roll of "self-adhesive" gift wrap that was lurking in the midst of the pretty papers. That stuff is no less likely to cause a hissy fit this year than last. Waste not, want not... but...
• I am officially in the know on how a week in Honduras during the school year could draw the unwanted attention of truancy court. Fortunately, we have lots of wiggle room thanks to no absences for Little Bit at all and only one for Middle Child of the allowable ten before things get messy. The week I hoped to go to Honduras has a 4th Grade Writing TAKS Test scheduled, and it would be mean to keep our kid out the day of the test all her writing teachers for the past four years have been working toward... We'll have to go a week sooner or later. I wish we could just go now.
• Travel is not a good idea today. My Bronchitis may also be Strep after all. After two days of an antibiotic not ideally suited to treat Strep, the giant q-tip is failing to show positive despite what the doc's little flashlight and my nerve endings are proclaiming. If the sore throat is still blazing away in the morning, we'll have to piggyback a second antibiotic. Yuck.
• Despite the Illness du jour, my great uncle passed away today. I'm wondering if the antibiotics will kick in in time to make the trip for his funeral service. His widow is a great lady who hosted our wedding shower. He was a giant of a man (as is true of all my Mammy's brothers), and he will be missed by many. Oh, and no one in our family aside from the grands and the immediate aunties and uncles knew The Boy was gone last year. Or that he is gone again. That might get sticky.

Tidbits: Posted

• The Boy left at 5:30 a.m. yesterday to go to an interim location where he will be evaluated for the next 30-45 days. Last night, it was 10:00 and I couldn't really picture where my kid was even though I have been given an address. This is not okay.
• Little Bit finished up her Intro to Skating class last night. Her teacher recommended skipping the Beginner level, so Alpha classes (pretty foot work and spins on one foot) begin January 4th. Walker commented yesterday that the skates were definitely not a waste.
• The mister's passport has arrived. Funds to cover the mister's and my airfare have been allotted. We're going to have to decide whether or not the girls will be going. They would be unenthusiastic about being left behind. I would like for the mister to not only be introduced to the Honduras that draws me, but also to see how our girls are similarly drawn.
• On the way home from ice skating, I suggested a stop at the Urgent Care Center. Good thing. My "sore throat" and "drainage" have settled into my lower left lung. Bronchitis treated right away is less likely to turn into a case of Christmas Pneumonia. While my plans were to have my arms full of babies at the children's emergency shelter today, I am instead cradling a cup of hot tea and lounging in my jammies until the nurse can get here later today to administer some I.V. meds. Boo. Well, the tea is lovely. It's just less snuggly than rocking and praying blessings over babies.

Heading

The mister went in yesterday for his Hep A & B vaccinations. He ended up with a concussion. Seriously. He felt a little woozy after the injections, and he passed out hitting his head. His blood sugar and blood pressure were normal, but he had every sign of a concussion. With him holding a plastic bag for his, ah, stomach contents, we left the doctor's office with an order for an emergency CT scan. Fortunately, all the CT revealed was a brain. Still, it was not quite the day either of us had planned.
The good news? Our practitioner goes to church with friends from Casa de Esperanza, and we had a great conversation with her before the mister's appointment went south. I was a little concerned that she might forget the conversation, but Don took care of that by making sure everyone in the office would remember us. The admitting representative at the hospital was also interested in hearing more about Reach Out Honduras. While Don was having his head scanned, she came tearing into the x-ray department excited about what she had already read online. These two new contacts made our unpleasant circumstances feel much  more positive, especially now that the mister appears to be fine despite some lingering headache and tiredness.