The Seventh Sign

So, I don't really even know where to start with this latest debacle in the Zanger family saga.  I guess the beginning is as good as any other place.  Everything I write about in this post was very serious and quite scary at times, but I have a feeling that it will take on a more humorous appearance, simply because all I can do now is laugh at the absolute ridiculousness of my life.

Jeff and I headed to St. Louis yesterday for Easton's appointment with neurosurgery and for a blood draw.  The first minor issue we had was that we left early enough to do the blood draw first, and waited in the crowded waiting room for about 20 minutes only to find out that they don't draw blood from broviac lines in the outpatient lab.  So, basically we sat in a room full of other germ-carriers (as this is now how I see human beings) only to be sent away.  We then went to our appointment with neurosurgery and decided to deal with the blood draw later.  When we got to the office, the doctor informed us that although he did see a malformation, it wasn't bad enough that he needed to put a shunt in his head at this time.  To which we replied, "Oh, that's good."  But, inside we were both thinking, "What the hell are you talking about????  We hadn't even considered that!"   After the appointment, a nurse was kind enough to come down and draw his blood from the broviac even though he wasn't her patient. (By the way, STL Children's is AMAZING)

Oddly enough these were NOT the most unfortunate events of the day.  If you live anywhere near the midwest, you can probably guess what was in store for us next.  We left St. Louis and drove directly into the heart of the worst storms I've ever seen in my entire life.  There were tornado warnings in absolutely every single county in MO, and I swear we drove through every one of them.  We eventually just decided to go into a Super 8 motel in Bowling Green and ask if we could come in for awhile.  This was not a case of "no room at the inn."  Those people welcomed us in, brought us blankets, and offered hot chocolate and coffee.  It was incredible.  They even reserved the bathroom for us because we were traveling with a baby and it was considered the safest place to be when the tornado came through.  I was seriously in awe of these people.

But, you really know you're screwed when you pull up to a motel and 10 people are staring out the window.  And, THEN you go into the "safe" room and an old hispanic woman is mumbling in the corner and you realize that she's saying a ROSARY!!  Yep, I figured it was the end.  Although, I felt pretty good about the woman being old, because I figured if she was the one praying we were probably getting the best direct line to the Big Guy. I can understand why she felt it necessary to whip out the big guns because these were some SERIOUS storms.  I'm not talking about a  "this will be fun, let's pretend we're Dorothy," kind of storm.  We're talking more of a "grab those ruby slippers and HAUL your ASS out of Kansas" kind of thing.  Of course, I'm freaking out the entire time that my son is going to start seizing in this motel, in the middle of tornado weather.  Luckily I did remember to bring his rescue medications in from the van and was ready to administer them at any second.  He, however, was much less concerned about the whole situation and SLEPT through the entire thing.  Apparently once you've been in a coma, tornadoes are sort of child's play.

Oh yeah, by the way, I forgot to mention that when we were driving through the storm before we stopped at the hotel, I began shaking violently.  Because I got FREAKIN' MASTITIS on the way home!!  Are you kidding me, right now?  If you've never experienced mastitis, it is an infection in your breast that is associated with breastfeeding.  The symptoms are a large knot in your breast that is extremely painful to touch and is warm and red.  You ALSO experience fever, fatigue, and chills that seriously should be called convulsions.  I couldn't even hold the hot chocolate I was trying to drink.  At this point all I could think of was the movie the Seventh Sign.  It's the one with Demi Moore, and she's pregnant with what may potentially be satan and as she nears her due date all of these insane things start happening in the world.  The line from the movie that kept playing over and over in my head was, "Will you die for him?"  I looked at Easton sleeping peacefully in his carseat and thought, "And today is your FREAKING birthday.  Is this some sort of sign?  I mean, seriously how much more can a person take?  So, I just looked up at the sky and said, "Dude, I'm pretty sure I've answered the 'will you die for him?' question several times in the past month.  Can we knock it off with boom booming, the funky looking clouds, and the exploding boob?"