Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Tales of the Harrowed Housewife


That pretty much sums up the day.

My folks are one day away from relocating to our area.
My husband is on a two-day stint of an opposite schedule than we are used to and is therefore MIA.
And I am going crazy.

It seems I have traded in my grotesque nursing stories for Tales of the Harrowed Housewife.
Gone are the days of exsanguination, ducking punches from psych patients, multiple narcotic drips, and necrotic wounds.  I've traded those in . . . tossed away my nitrile gloves . . . washed my hands . . . and suited up for my next . . . adventure?  Ha!  Donning a diaper bag, stroller, tennis shoes, lovey, dog leash, and poo-poo bags for both homo sapien and canine.

I started this morning by calling no less than six, yes six, family practices to make myself a sick appointment.  Apparently (strike the banjos), in our new area you have to "fully establish" yourself as a well-patient (taking 4-6 weeks) before you can be seen in a doctors office.  Personally, I think this is absolutely ridiculous.  After the third office told me this, I started sharing my opinion (shocker!) with the receptionists.  I have never in my life . . . in any area I have resided encountered such a "policy."  When asked "well, what am I supposed to do then?" most receptionists responded with "you can go to an urgent care."  Do you realize those doctors that run urgent care clinics are not even real doctors?  They have not completed a residency and have had little or no hands-on training.  They are often fondly referred to by board-certified physicians as "doc-in-a-boxes."  I DON'T THINK SO.  Nevertheless, I eventually landed a 12:15 appointment at a real doctors office.

Then . . . Jackson woke up.  He smiled at me for about 3.76 seconds, then he started screaming.  He fought his diaper change, wrestled the spoon during breakfast, and was generally unpleasant all morning.  Remember that tooth I was soooo excited about?  Well, now it has a partner in crime, and I wish they would burrow their little selves back into Jackson's gums.  Teething = no fun for baby or mama.

Soon came my doctors appointment, a trip to CVS, back home for more fussiness--let me tell you--Jackson did not like green eggs and ham.  Then (throw in some tantrums and). . . it was time for Maggie's follow up vet exam.

I developed my clever strategy for loading Maggie and Jackson into the car together and arriving at the vet in time to put Jackson into his stroller for safe keeping.  Soon, after two little girls sang and read to Jax in the waiting room while their daddy read the paper (yeah, I ended up doing some free babysitting too), we were ushered into an exam room.

Only to be told "the doctor is running a little behind this afternoon."  Why, of course she is!

So Maggie waited anxiously . . .

And Jackson continued his MOA of the day . . .

And I wore my new armour with a smile . . .
And, as if I couldn't have done it myself, Jackson pulled my hair out for me!

End Chapter One of Tales of the Harrowed Housewife.

P.S.-- Maggie's corneal ulcer is healing nicely!  Guess I haven't lost my nursing skills yet!

1 comment:

Lauren said...

Oh, so sorry. My sister ran into the same situation here when she moved here from Michigan. Now next week, when you don't have enough to do (does that ever happen?!) you can go establish yourself. Haha.