So I fell and dislocated my knee today. Holding the baby. Baby is fine. Knee is f*cked up. Urgent Care put me in an immobilizer and sent me home with crutches. Hopefully I'll be able to get an appointment with my primary care doctor tomorrow. At least this means I get to see my physical therapist again. I love my physical therapist. So to sum up the last 8 days:
(last) Wednesday: Scout, my beloved beagle and stalwart companion of 13 years is diagnosed with cancer. Dr. Internetz says the outcome is grim. We make an appointment with a veterinary oncologist.
Wednesday: Theodore's sniffles develop into a full-fledged cough and general unhappiness. A pediatrician appointment is made.
Wednesday: The single product that soothes Theo, makes him stop crying, and helps him sleep--the bouncy chair--breaks. An emergency backup bouncy chair is purchased.
Thursday: Meet with the sweetest, most compassionate vet in the world and given 3 treatment options: surgery, chemotherapy, an NSAID that restricts the tumor's blood supply. Learn that chemotherapy in dogs involve almost none of the side effects of chemo in humans. Decide to hit this with everything we've got, schedule surgery for the next day.
Thursday: Take baby to pediatrician. As expected, he has a virus and low-grade fever. No way to treat, just a humidifier in his room and tylenol when he seems uncomfortable.
Friday: Scout Dog goes in for surgery. Digory is extremely distraught. I am depressed.
Saturday: Scout Dog returns, sans bladder mass and part of her bladder. Her incontinence becomes frustrating. While understandable, it's tiring to take her out every 2-3 hours around the clock and still find puddles on the floor.
Saturday: I start to feel sick. Must have picked up Theo's cold.
Sunday: Scout Dog's incontinence continues to be frustrating.
Sunday: I am hit with the most insane cold in the universe. Miserable doesn't begin to describe how I feel. Fever spikes to 101 degrees. We cancel my birthday dinner plans, reschedule for Wednesday.
Monday: Happy birthday to me! Still feel like crap. Still have a fever. Miss storytime at the library.
Monday: Scout Dog's incontinence continues to be frustrating.
Tuesday: Off to the doctor for me. turns out the reason why I can't hear is because I have an ear infection. Dispatched with an antibiotic and cough medicine. Have an awful time at Target pharmacy because they don't have the cough syrup in stock. Transfer prescription to Walgreens.
Tuesday: Send a Strongly Worded Email to Target corporate letting them know that out of the 3 prescriptions I had filled there, 2 of them were medicines they didn't have in stock. Not a good track record. And this time they didn't even send me home with a partial fill. Just asked me to come back the next day. Tell Target that this is both ridiculous and unacceptable and they might want to rethink their stocking practices or they will lose even more customers like me.
Tuesday: Scout Dog's incontinence continues to be frustrating.
Wednesday: Get a phone call from the Target pharmacy manager at the store I went to. She apologizes profusely. Which is nice, but... Conversation goes like this: HER: "If you'd said something about the cough medicine, we could have found some at another Target store or something." ME: "Why should i have to say something? I think it goes without saying that if you bring in a prescription for cough medicine, you need it now, nott the next morning." HER: "It's not a common prescription to keep in stock." ME: "Walgreens had it." And so on.
Wednesday: Feeling much better so decide to go ahead with dinner plans. On the way to Torrance, start to feel woozy due to not being able to hear (annoying) and two clogged ears throwing me a bit off balance. Get carsick. Have a wonderful dinner. Ger carsick again on the way home. Throw up.
Wednesday: Scout Dog's incontinence continues to be frustrating.
Thursday: Sleep in. Go to visit niece whose 8th grade graduation I just slept through. Hang out with her, play Rock Band, have fun. Step outside their house, miss a small step down, major knee dislocation. Holding the baby. Baby cries but is fine. Drive to Urgent Care and wait a billion years. Doctor is altogether useless. Take x-ray, nothing broken, given knee immobilizer and crutches, and a prescription for something "Just like Advil" because "We don't prescribe narcotics in the Urgent Care."
Thursday: Arrive home. Cry at the suckiness of my life. Consider cancelling Theo's half-birthday party. Decide to hold the party after all. In a tremendous about of pain, topped only by my kidney stone and giving birth. Fortunately, the cough medicine has a narcotic. Try to forget everything that has happened this week.
Thursday: Scout Dog's incontinence continues to be frustrating.
So I'm pretty much done with the crap, if that's okay with you all.
Posted by Shelby at June 18, 2009 07:03 PM