I tried to wax my eyebrows and it didn't go well. I have a half inch chunk of silky smooth space up there, now.I've been outrageously, mind-bogglingly, crazy-making busy lately. You would not believe the circus I went through the last two weeks to get oldest girl authorized for her next spinal tap. I could detail it, but you would never believe it. It was like the process had been written by a sadistic comedy writer. And it's made more complicated by the fact that she is eighteen and I am starting to get flak from people who want to know why she isn't making the arrangements herself (as though she turned eighteen, stopped going to school, etc). If anything brings out the control freak in me, it's some overpaid office flunky telling me they don't want to hear from me about my kid.
Middle girl continues to be in pain. They told us to try "alternative therapies" such as acupuncture and bio-feedback. Acupuncture only made it worse, so we stopped that. She couldn't keep taking the heavy drugs, which left us with ibuproffen or Tylenol. She was in the ER again last week because all the ibuprofen messed up her stomach. Now she has new meds to fix what the old ones did and around we go.
The symptoms of pressure in her brain began to get bad again last week. I called her neurologist - and a note about that: don't assume that an expensive, famous neuro will be any more conscientious or knowledgeable than any other - I called her neurologist last week to tell him that she was having trouble seeing and hearing, I thought she might need a tap, and he told me not to worry about the spinal fluid pressure, that the new wonder drug he had given her was supposed to control that. That's ridiculous. Pressure in her brain can blind her, leave her a vegetable or kill her if left untreated. How can doctors who make that much money be so bloody arrogant?
A week or so later it was so much worse, she couldn't focus, etc. While I'm checking oldest girl into the hospital for her tap, I'm on the phone with Dr. Egocentric, who turns out to be out of town. This explains why I hadn't had any response to the five calls I'd left that week. Ahem. The doctor he chose to take his calls while he was away was none other than Dr. Impotent, the one we fired when middle girl was last in the hospital for telling me "there was nothing she could do for my daughter".
Dr. Impotent refused to treat my daughter, or refer us to another neurologist who could treat her. Can you imagine that? I was in awe, I truly was. It was one of those Uzi moments for me. But I had the older girl I had to focus on, so I couldn't hunt down and kill the doctor. Not yet.
Older girl's pressure was elevated, but not as bad as it was last time, thank heaven. We get her tapped and home and I get on the phone to the pediatrician, the medical group and the pediatric pain people at Famous-For-It's-Pediatric-Neuro-Dept. Hospital downtown, where I leave messages begging, pleading, FIND ME A NEURO.
Two ridiculous days later, and last night I end up taking her to the ER. They tap her to find her pressure was higher than it had ever been before. We can deal with that with a tap and hope the damage rights itself, but she continues to be in pain and the only thing that helps are the narcotics none of us want her to take anymore - the side effects are hideous and complicate things so much more. So my baby is home and sleeping, and I'm waiting for someone to call back from Famous Hospital to tell me if I have a neuro or not.
I'm so bloody angry, people. I'm angry, scream until I'm hoarse angry and I want to throw things. The worst thing in the world, the absolute worst, is your kid in pain and being impotent to help. I feel angry and guilty and like I'm failing her miserably.
I have no idea how to describe me. I don't feel much of anything at all if I don't have to. I know I should probably 'examine' my feelings, but I can't focus my energy or brain to do it. My brain jumps away from the idea as though I had touched a hot stove.
My pap came back fine, no more nasty cancer bugs, but I have lumps in my right breast. One thing after another. Even if they are nothing to worry about (and chances are they're nothing to worry about), it's still one thing after another. My life is such a comedy at this point.
And still, I say like a mantra, thank god it isn't worse. Thank god it isn't worse.
Luckovich is God.
