Oh dudes, so much to tell you and yet, my blogging vibe, my mojo, my energy? Not so much. So, bullet points:
- So we put Oscar on the “very low dose” of the “very mild antidepressant” to basically “give him a better quality sleep” and let’s just say – monumental fuck-up. Poor kid was stoned. Loss of normal cognitive function – doing things like having his shower but not turning any cold water on, coming out looking like a beetroot. And so on.
- I sucked up my maternal angst and guilt and justified the science, riding out the length of time allocated to side-effects and then halving the already “very low dose” to minimal improvements. Took him off them, back to normal. Thank goodness.
- There has been much internal mulling on this whole process on my part. I talked to my psychiatrist about it and the particular drug and his reply was that, in his professional opinion, you do not put children on drugs in that particular family. I get the feeling Oscar was being used as a bit of a case study and now I’m feeling fairly pissed about the whole thing.
My standard face – furrowed brow, chewing bottom lip. MUST STOP
- This term sees Oscar at swimming on Tuesday afternoons, gym on Wednesdays, karate (I KNOW! starts tomorrow) on Thursdays and bowling on Saturdays. Somehow I think my concerns over the last 18 months that he didn’t have enough of his own activities has been rectified.
- It was Mum’s birthday on the weekend. We went to a little local, very informal cafe down on Warriewood beach to celebrate and marvelled at Oscar walking across soft sand with his superlegs on to the lifesavers, where he totally infiltrated their ranks and scored rides for him and his brothers on the beach buggy. I swear that kid could charm the pants off a statue.
- You will all be thrilled to know that Mum is well and truly on the mend, back hanging out my washing albeit needing someone to carry it out and carry it back in. Tsk. Good help is so hard to find.
- Seriously, she is doing well. We’re six weeks out from the op, the crutches are gone, the stick is back in full flight and she’s got some of that steely resolve of hers back.
- I’ve had a really sore throat for weeks but it only flared at night, normally in the middle of night, waking me with a sharp jab and solved by a drink of water.
- On Friday it got worse, by Saturday I was feeling pretty average and the throat was sore all the time, Saturday night was horrendous, waking constantly with a mouth and throat so dry I thought it would crack and swallowing was agonising. Sunday was pretty much the same but with the arrival of the chills. Sunday night was equally harrowing with Chef saying to me, ‘if you snore like you did last night you have to sleep on the lounge.’ I apologised and laughed, as he did when he clarified, ‘it wouldn’t have been that bad except for when i got up to go to the bathroom and you told me you couldn’t sleep, but then instantly started snoring again.’ Whoops.
- Monday I rang our GP to discover he was on holidays so had to see one of the other doctors in the practice. A doctor I had a pretty average experience with a few years back when we thought one of the other boys (our GP had suspected Oscar had it) swine flu. I relayed my symptoms, the chills, the incredibly sore throat, the inability to swallow and he was all, ‘sounds like tonsilitis’ – as.was.I. Then he looked in my throat, marvelled there was no pus so therefore no tonsilitis, no temperature either so to go gargle some aspirin and try a Diflam throat spray and hopefully I’d feel better in a couple of days. I KNOW.
- By that afternoon I was contemplating suicide such was my anxiety at not being able to swallow and panic attacks that my airway was going to close-up completely.
- I went to the GP clinic and Mona Vale Hospital at 5.30. To discover it opened at 6.30. I went home. I made the boys dinner. I went back to the Hospital, taking Oscar with me because he’s had a cough for weeks too and goddammit just take me out to the back paddock and shoot.me.dead.
- At around 9pm I got in to see the GP, about an hour after I started vomiting. Into those weird plastic bags with the hard plastic top they have in hospitals. Those ones I nick a hundred off every time I’m there because OH MY GOD best spew bags ever. In the ladies toilets. Seriously. Wanting. To. Die. By then my temperature was 38.9C and as she looked in my throat gasped, “Oh.My.God” in her beautiful Eastern European accent. I left with mega antibiotics AND steroids.
- I am definitely on the mend but the throat is still sore, the temperature keeps spiking and the energy levels certainly not at their normal canter.
- Oh, Monday also happened to be our 13th wedding anniversary.
- Grover has taken to pissing on Jasper’s bed. I know, it’s like the sequel to The Turdinator that should never have been made.
- Jasper is 5 next week and holy crap, my baby is disappearing before my very eyes into a boy very ready for school next year.
- We’re half way through the first week back of the final term of school and can I just say, these last holidays? Best in quite some time.
- Hanging out at K’s was about the best thing I could have done ever. Her family were my second family during school, a bit of an oasis of normal from my stressful abode with divorcing parents and well stress stress stress.
K’s mum, K and K
- The boys were generally delightful with each other and we also caught up with two of my bestest friends from our original mother’s group. Yup, from when Oscar, A and S were all about 6 weeks old.
- I am godmother to S’s third child and having just become a godmother for the second time have vowed to improve my slack arse performance of late. I’m just not sure how L feels about it. Or, in fact, going off Felix’s expression, his thoughts on the matter either:
- Over the years we’ve tried to take the same photo of the kids on R’s front step. Quite a few were missing this time (R’s two boys, my two littlest) but here they are:
- Here they are in 2006:
- And do you think I can find the one from around 04? NOPE. Look at wee Jasper in that pic. MAN.
- Anyways, there’s been a fair bit of reminiscing in these here parts as my 20 year high school reunion is coming up in about two weeks. Shame I never lost those 15kgs for it. But just to indulge you all… here I am, bright and sparky and ready for my first day at my brand new school circa 1983: