Archive for the ‘sick’ Category

Two evenings ago, Boo told me at bedtime that her left eye hurt. I took a look and could not see anything, so told her she’d feel better in the morning – standard parent line. Also wrong – by the morning, her eye was practically swollen shut. It wasn’t red and there was no apparent bite, not that there’s anything around to bite her right now.

Our doctor wasn’t in, so we saw a colleague. After ruling out the same stuff I ruled out, she sat and stared at Boo for several moments, then said, “Well, I don’t think you’ll need to go to the children’s hospital for IV antibiotics, but I just want to ask my colleague for a second opinion.” That was a bit of a shock. The second doctor agreed that oral antibiotics were the way to go, but they warned me that if Boo got worse or developed a fever, it was straight to the hospital for her. Of course. Because J is out of town.

Sure enough, after dinner I noticed she was looking kind of run down and her eye had become very red. She had a fever. I’m very lucky my parents live in the same city. My mother came over and off we went.

I have to say, it was the least awful ER trip I think I’ve had. We came armed with multiple amusements, we actually got put in an examining room after being called from the waiting room, rather than being stuck with chairs in a hall like the last two times I was there, and Boo was in a great mood. Unless someone touched her eye, it didn’t particularly hurt. Once we got to the examining room, we read, snacked and she talked incessantly as I got sleepier and sleepier. They even had the wherewithal to send a nurse in to apply a topical numbing creme to her hand in case they needed to put an IV in once we were finally seen.

When the doctor, who appeared to be about 12 years old, came to take a look, she proclaimed it still only periorbital cellulitis, instead of the more dangerous orbital cellulitis. Basically, it means the infection was still only around the eye, instead of  in it. Nevertheless, she agreed it wasn’t pretty and it was not good that the eye was still worsening on the antibiotics, and decided to give her a single dose of IV antibiotics. Yay for the numbing creme!

Boo immediately became my favourite child this morning for actually compensating for going to bed at 12:30 by sleeping in until almost 10:30 am. The other two like to keep to their mornings schedule, no matter how little sleep they’ve had – frequently a cause of great parental suffering. Anyway, the eye looked way better this morning, but hasn’t improved much since then, making me even more grateful for the heavy-duty drugs.

Ironically, I missed seeing the video I had rented, Michael Moore’s Sicko. I watched it today, though, as Boo and I lounged around. I’d read beforehand about the various methods Moore uses to manipulate situations, etc, but even given that, the movie is shocking. I knew Americans paid a lot for health care, but I had no idea how awful the situation clearly is.

I’d love to know where the Canadians who claimed to have never waited more than an hour for hospital treatment live, because I’ve never had one shorter than 2 hours. Last night, I showed up at the ER at 8:30 pm and left at 12 midnight. I didn’t resent the wait at all, though, especially seeing some of the really sick children coming through. Three and a half hours doesn’t seem outrageous for emergency care. A lot of people do end up waiting a lot longer, mostly because they are waiting to be seen for non-emergency problems. If you are going to show up at the ER for a sore throat, even a really sore throat, you are going to wait. Unfortunately, in this city, it is pretty much impossible to find a GP who will take on new clients, which leaves people going to the ER when they shouldn’t (rather than a walk-in clinic).

I shudder to think of being in a situation where I would have had to take into consideration the cost of taking Boo to the ER, or  how I would have felt if the IV antibiotics were really expensive and I had to decide whether to pay or take a chance. I’m willing to wait an awfully long time for the right to get the care she needed regardless of our financial situation.

I know I’m rambling on here, but just one more thing. There is a lot of discussion and concern in Canada about wait times. Sometimes, people wait ages to see specialists or get services like CAT scans and that does suck. It is a weakness of the system. But after Boo was born, I developed a severe uterine infection and started to hemorrhage by the time we got to the ER. I was whisked right in and started on an IV, then taken up to a room within a couple of hours. The next day, we got a private room. When the doctors feared I had a blood clot, I got an ultrasound, and MRI and some fancy lung function test that required inhaling something radioactive the day they became concerned. Thankfully, those fears were unfounded.

Then, once I was stabilized after a week, rather than keep me in the hospital for the next week just because I required constant IV antibiotics, I was given a picc line (a tube threaded into your chest for long-term delivery of drugs). A tube lead out of my arm and into a fanny pack filled with my medicine, with a small attached computer delivering the right dosage, and sent home. Every day, a nurse came to visit, change the meds, and check me out. When the computer spazzed out, I phoned a number and got help instantly.

The monetary cost to us for all this care: parking fees. They even paid for prescriptions we picked up at the pharmacy during the week I was at home with the picc line, which we normally pay for ourselves, under the logic that I was still under hospital care and was only home to save them money (my sanity was just a bonus). I spent that entire second week feeling pure, unadulterated gratitude – for being alive, for being allowed to be home, for a healthy baby, for good friends and family, and for being Canadian.

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 One of our birthday rituals is to weight and measure the birthday child. We have, as I suspect many people do, a wall with all our kids’ heights over the years marked. Asher is delighted that even though his big sister is much bigger than he is, he is taller than she is at every year, and catching up.

Boo wanted us to measure her a few months ago, although we didn’t mark it then. She saw that she was right at Maya’s line. Her goal became to reach Asher’s line by the time she turned five. Of course, there wasn’t actually anything she could do, but she still hoped. So when we put her up against the wall a couple of days ago, she said again, “I hope I beat Asher’s line!” And sure enough, she was right at Asher’s line. I marked her as a smidgen above, just to make her happy. And she was: “Look, I’m taller than he was! I actually made it to taller than he was.”

No one pointed out to her that she had just made it past the lines we made when Maya and Asher turned four.


I planned the summer perfectly – first the family vacation, then 3 weeks of camp, then 2 weeks of hanging out time. The hanging out time begins today. We have made a list of fun activities, like the wave pool, museums, conservation parks, that we plan to go through. So, of course, I was woken up this morning with Boo puking on me.

Now I’m trapped in the house with one sick child and two bored ones whose friends are all in day camp. Oh dear.


I have occasionally mentioned the weird search string used to reach my site, but I think I have a new winner for weirdness: Africans cutting right arms off pictures. In all capitals. Beyond the fact that I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned the word African on my site, or even right arms, and therefore cannot figure out how that got the searcher to my site, I cannot figure out what this person wants. Are the Africans cutting off their own right arms? Does it have to be right arms? Are they cutting off other peoples’ right arms? And why would anyone want to see a picture of that?

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