I must have really pissed off the Karma Gods (if you believe in that sort of stuff). I don’t really. I am nice to most every one. Sure I may blog about you or laugh at you to my friends but you don’t know so it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Apparently someone overheard me talking about them though because like I said. The Karma Gods are PISSED!
So my husband deployed. Not the first time, but definitely his last. It doesn’t matter how many times you go through it, it never gets any easier. Let me give you a break down of my first week alone.
Friday (the night before my husband leaves): My son comes home from school with diarrhea and throwing up. So much for our fun dinner out and Kinect family night.
Saturday: Son is sick and in bed and baby is napping so I have to call my neighbor to come stay with the kids while I drop my beloved at the airport. Some 3 hours later, beloved calls, “my ATM card doesn’t work. Can you bring me some money?” So I call a different neighbor to come sit with the kids again. Run to Walgreen’s because here in Bumpkinville it was easier than going to the bank and having to go all the way down the one way road to have to U-turn and come back up. Stupid ass one way streets in Bumpkinville. Sooo here we are in Walgreen’s. I ask the ATM for $300. It gives me $60. WTF?!?! Are you serious??? I thought, “Wow, I’m a jack ass and did something wrong.” So I ask for another $200. Smart. I know right!? Then $320 comes out. You can’t be serious. So after shoving a back scratcher in the machine and pulling out my money that is jammed I am still $40 short. Oh, well, I’ll call the bank later. I take the money to my love and go home.
Sunday: My son starts feeling better and the baby starts having diarrhea. Nice. I can’t catch a break.
Monday: Baby still has diarrhea but my son goes to school. So not an awful day.
Tuesday: Baby wakes up throwing up. Poor little sweet thing, it breaks my heart. I call the Dr.s office at 8 a.m. and leave a message for a nurse. No call back. I call back at 10 a.m. and finally get to speak to someone. No, no pee diapers. No, she can’t keep anything down. After following the advice of the nurse and giving 2 tsp. of milk every 20 minutes, we end up at the Dr.s office. If there are no wet diapers by 5-6 p.m. to the off to the ER I should go. So here comes 5 p.m.still no pee, and still not holding anything down. I make arrangements for the boy to stay at the neighbors and off the baby and I go. I ask for a pediatric Dr. or nurse. They tell me there are none and all of the Dr.s and nurses are qualified to take care of my baby. BULLSHIT! There is a complete and total difference between and ER Dr. and a Pediatric Dr. The first thing the ER Dr. says to me...”um, your daughter has boobs. I think she will have premature puberty. You need to speak to your Dr. about it.” Are you fucking serious? She is a baby. Babies have tiny baby boobies, but none the less, now I am freaked out about something I had no issue with before I got to the ER. Nice. I took eight hours, five nurses, and seven tries before they could get and IV in my sweet babies hand. It was absolutely awful. If it wasn’t for a wonderful friend who came to sit with me I would have been in a padded room or taken away in cuffs for kicking someones ass. On top of all this I can’t get ahold of my baby’s Dr. because some jackass flipped a switch and made the phone number the fax number. At 2:45 a.m. we finally get admitted. After eight hours on the IV and more blood work we are told she will be fine and we can go home. I am soo happy!
Wednesday: We come home and the baby plays a bit. She still has a bit of diarrhea and a small throw up here and there but a big improvement The boy comes home and had a good day. Maybe things are looking up.
Thursday: I wake up at 2 in the morning with diarrhea and throwing up. Can’t catch a fucking break. So my son gets a day off school to help me take care of the baby. Before you judge me...A) I have a limited network and my network consists of people who all have kids my sons age and younger so I can’t expect them to take my sick baby, and B) Screw you if you don’t like it. I didn’t ask what you thought. I mean that in the nicest fashion.
Friday: 12:40 the baby wakes up throwing up. Thank goodness I went to bed at 8. I can handle this. So I change her and snuggle her and put her back to bed. I lay in mine and listen to her babble and kick. Finally she quiets down and I get up to check on her. As I get closer to my door I smell a stench so appalling I am convinced something is dead outside and the smell is wafting inside. I get to the baby’s room and the smell hangs in the air like death. I am convinced that her insides are rotting. I change her while holding my breath and trying not to vomit. It is the worst smell I have ever endured. I finally get to go back to my bed. Peaceful sleep. I feel better at 7a.m. when the boy gets up for school so off he goes. And the baby wakes throwing up and covered in snot...
So that was my week, like I said, if I believed in Karma, I would think that I had done something horrible. But in all honesty, I think it happened to make me grateful for all of the days I had when we weren’t sick, to show me that through all my anger at my husband leaving me during this, I am fully capable of dealing with it and everything else life throws my way during this deployment. But I can only hope it gets better....
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