December 1.
It seems as if we just started this year, and now it's already gone. I wonder where it went to? Time flies by so fast these days.
Well, we took Heron to the doctor today. There was a huge mix‑up, and they were getting ready to give him a full exam, which I didn't want. The good news is that his platelet count is just fine. The bad news is that we need to find an ear, nose, and throat doctor and possibly have an artery cauterized in his nose. They assured me that him having a wad of cotton stuck up his nose for over a year as a toddler has no bearing on this situation.
Want to hear that story? When Heron was a year old, I noticed him pulling cotton batting out of a quilt and stuffing it up his nose. I looked up his nose but couldn't see any cotton. So I took him to the pediatrician, who snidely remarked that I must have only thought I saw him sticking cotton up his nose, as he couldn't see any. I was pretty darn sure that cotton was up his nose, but you know, if a doctor says he doesn't see any, well, what are you gonna do?
Heron kept getting sore throats and runny noses, and then his breath started smelling like a dead skunk. He got this horrendous sinus infection with snot a color snot should never be. I went back to the pediatrician and got a different doctor. At this time it had been a year since the first visit. She insisted he had a common sinus infection. I insisted that she look a little deeper in his freaking nose, because I knew darn well that cotton was somewhere up in there. Sure enough, she did a little digging, and just barely she saw a tiny piece sticking out. Well, let's just say it was a nightmare. The cotton by that time had grown into the lining of Heron's nose, and it was surrounded by snot and tissue and whatever's up in a nose. It took a long time to dig that cotton out, and it was huge! I don't know how that baby lasted as long as he did with that up in his nose.
So yeah, I still say that that has to have some bearing on his nosebleeds. I've got to admit, his bleeding didn't start until he was about twelve. But still, it was huge and it had grown into his nose lining.
Anyway, of the two doctors the pediatricians use and recommend, one’s out until January due to a family emergency, and the other one’s not in today. I'll keep trying doctor two, and if he keeps not answering, I'll call the pediatrician back. I don't think it's an emergency, so we've got time.
Badger broke her glasses last night, so she missed school also. We had to take her to Walmart to have them fixed. By the time we were done, it was too late to be going back to school. The last time she broke them, they had to replace the whole frame. This time they borrowed a screw from another display frame and put it back together. A good thing because they no longer carry her frames.
Heron’s an excused absence, and Badger gets another unexcused. I'll be getting a letter telling me I'm due in truancy court soon. I hate how the system’s set up these days. If they don't have a doctor's note, it's unexcused, and so many unexcused days equals truancy. That means the parent goes to truancy court and either pays a fine, does community service, or goes to jail.
Badger’s got migraines. When you have a migraine, going to school just isn't possible. All she can do is lie in a pitch‑black room with a wet towel on her head, throwing up. Taking her to the doctor every time she gets a migraine isn't practical, so she ends up with quite a few unexcused absences over the course of the school year. I'm always right on the edge of going to court.
When I went to school, a note from the mom was all you needed for a missed day. They didn't bother you about it, no matter how many days you missed. Not every change's good or sensible.
While we were waiting for her glasses, a woman came in and said, “Charlotte? Are you Charlotte?” I told her Charlotte was my mom, and she was telling me how she’d worked with Mom, and then she wanted to know how Mom was. I told her Mom died in 2008 of a brain tumor, and I still can't say that word without starting to cry. I can't. She said, “Oh, she died too young,” and told me her mom had died when she was seventeen at forty‑two. I expressed my sympathy to her, and she went on her way. The bad thing about living here is that people who worked with Mom will bump into me occasionally, and not all of them know about Mom, and it still hurts so bad to say she died. It really does. I don't think I'll ever get used to saying Mom’s dead. The ironic thing is that all my life Mom would say I was the spitting image of deadbeat dad, but apparently I'm actually the spitting image of her. I think she treated me badly because I did remind her of deadbeat dad, but very few other people see him in me. They see her.
Badger and I walked to the library this evening. She's really getting frustrated because they have nothing to read. I'm beyond frustrated. They've had a chance to get a larger library building, which would enable them to get more books, and they turned the chance down. I love to read, my kids love to read, and we're limited in what we can check out because our library can't carry many books. It's simply too small. I've not been able to buy books because Cowboy's just never understood why I like to read, and he's not too happy with me buying books “to clutter up the house with.” It's his paycheck, you know. I miss having a large library with a good selection of books.
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