Last Easter 2011: Son contracts life-changing illness...check.
Exactly a year later we are planning a trip to a big, scary hospital to get help for our big, scary problem. But, to make it feel a little better we've decided to make it a "family vacation." Well, sure. However, I seem to have forgotten who I'm dealing with here. We can't just have your normal, taking-a-five-hour-trip-with-4-children-is-stressful kind of trip. Oh, GOD no! We've got to make it interesting. So, the day before we leave, my rather well-proportioned 4-year-old says, "I don't feel like eating breakfast today, Mommy..." Well, shit. That's not a good sign. Thermometer time...101.5. Perfect. And OF COURSE it's Saturday so NO ONE on earth is working. We get to go to ambulatory care. When we get there, I notice a nice little rash all over her body. Doc decides he's pretty sure it's a strep rash (aka-scarlet fever.) Well, of course it is!!! We don't mess around with your run-of-the-mill cold in these here parts. So we get an antibiotic and good ole doc says, "It should be fine, she'll feel better pretty quickly." Yeah, ok, dude except now can you tell me what I do with the immuno-compromised epileptic 2-year-old that I have at home? What do I do when he gets it three hours into our 6 hour trip? What's YOUR plan then? I didn't think so. Of course, I make a call to the on-call pediatrician because I've learned to be a pro-active psychotic freak. She is obviously NOT from our normal medical group and knows nothing about Easton. Awesome. So, I'm sure she thinks I'm a lunatic because I'm calling for a "possible" need for an antibiotic, for a "possible" illness that my child may "possibly" contract in a couple of days. Yeah, well, lady I've sort of been around the block, ok?
Well, no problem, 4-year-old seems to be feeling better after one dose, everyone is washing their hands like it's their job, and so far so fever for the epileptic. Oh, but then we try to go to sleep. Six-year-old wakes us up at 1am to tell us that 4-year-old is puking. Sure enough...vomitrocious. Then at 3:30 am some asshat squeals his tires in front of my house and wakes me up...AGAIN. Here's the thing dude, I CANNOT be woken up at 3:30 am. It happens to be a very difficult time for me, and one that's wrought with horrible images and nightmares. So of course, I do not go back to sleep until around 5:30am. And guess what happens at 6:45? All three of the big kids are up and ready for Easter! So, we get up and start looking for those adorable eggs that the adorable little bunny left for us...that is until my adorable 4-year-old starts her adorable vomiting marathon. Approximately every 20-30 minutes she heaves into a bucket and I follow her around wiping things off with clorox. So much for a "quick" recovery. And what are we supposed to do today???? Oh, that's right...ride 6 hours in a van TOGETHER with a vomiting 4-year-old, a 6-year-old that's ridiculously freaked out by vomit, and the two-year-old ticking time-bomb.
I think it's pretty safe to say that I was a prostitute/assassin/criminal mastermind/proctologist/(or any other horrible profession that comes to mind) in a past life. I may even have been Judas. If so, I apologize. Happy Freakin' Easter.