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Finding Five Facts For Friday
I took Fin to an appointment yesterday that was originally intended to be a hospital follow-up but turned into a well child check. I had to circle things on a sheet that he couldn’t do and I didn’t get very far because he can’t feed himself since he doesn’t eat and he has no interest in dressing himself thanks to the trach and the feeding tube safety pinned to his shirt and I started to wish my wife had taken him instead of me. Then the doctor went over his list of medications and I couldn’t remember the specific strength of a certain drug and his day nurse couldn’t remember either and I was already stressing out because she was there with me, sort of helping but sort of shadowing me, and it was uncomfortable and I really wished my wife was there. Then the doctor said he didn’t want to make any changes on vent pressures since we were so close to having spent time in the hospital and I knew that my wife should have taken him. When I got home I explained everything and my wife was sad and sick and frustrated for many reasons. She knows Fin better than anyone, because she is with him twenty-four/seven, and knows how well he’s doing. She would have argued effectively to drop the pressures. Fin will now be on higher settings heading into a newly rescheduled bronchoscopy than he was a year ago, all because of getting sick once. It feels like a setback.
My middle daughter went to a physical therapy consult for some balance issues and now they want to put her through a series of tests concerning some latent developmental problems. They gave her some exercises to do and, wow, her confidence and dexterity have skyrocketed. I was wary at first, but who wouldn’t do anything at all to help their kids in any way they could?
Our night nurse has been highly annoying this week. Sitting on the couch, yapping like a dog, interrupting everything we say, pretending to snore in a way that says, boy, I sure am tired, I hope I can sleep tonight instead of working, you know what I’m saying? That would be like me going to my job and turning up the radio every time someone asked me a question so that it was clear I was there to enjoy myself instead of working. You know what I’m saying? She reminds me of that friend of Nic Cage in Raising Arizona that comes over and screws up the stupid racist joke he’s telling and can’t remember the punchline but it doesn’t stop him from running his mouth anyway.
I changed my page layout again because I need to be able to search my own posts. So often I think, “Did I post that song already?” And I have to go looking.
One of my friends got a job waiting tables at my favorite local bar. I’m gonna to have to go in tonight and harass her a little bit. I could use a nice, cold beverage.