Car “Game” with The Younger Boy

“Mom, want to play a game?  Let’s ask each other a bunch of questions about each other.  I want to know more about you.”  –Philip

“Well, how could I say no to that!!!  Of course, you go first.”

“Do you think Little-Girl-In-His-Class-Who-Will-Remain-Anonymous-To-Spare-Him-Future-Embarrassment is cute?”

“Yes, she’s a cute little girl.  Why do you like her?”

“Umm…because she’s cute.  (Insert ‘duh mom’ eye roll)  What’s your favorite color?”  Apparently, he didn’t want to further discuss Cute Girl.

“Blue.  What’s your favorite book?”

“The Magic Treehouse books.  What was your favorite book when you were a little girl?”

“Hmmm…I had so many!  I’ll go with Anne of Green Gables and the Nancy Drew books.  What’s your favorite movie?”

“Mom!  You know I have a bunch!  Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sharkboy and Lavagirl, SpyKids, Charlotte’s Web, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...”

“Ok, sorry I asked.  You can stop now.”  <giggling>

“Who was your best friend when you were a little girl?  Not high school, when you were little.”

“At school, it was a girl named Denise.  In our neighborhood, it was Anna and Amanda.  Who’s your best friend?”

“Grant!  You should know that!”  <laughing hysterically at my stupidity>

After a few moments of quiet thought…“I can’t think of any more right now.  You can ask me more, though.”

“Ok, how do you feel about having a brother who’s special?”

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Fear and Loathing in an MRI Machine

***To clear up any confusion, please note that this entry was written before I received my diagnosis.***

“Hi, this is Random-Chick-Name calling from Random-Medical-Violation-Facility.  I just wanted to remind you of your MRI of the brain and MRV tomorrow afternoon.  Do you have any questions about your procedures?”  –Perky Receptionist

“Yes.  I’m claustrophobic, but I have a prescription for Valium.  Is it ok to take one before the procedure?”

“Sure, that’s fine!”  (Perky Receptionist was definitely NOT on Valium.)

“Ok, how far am I going to be in the machine?  Is it just my head?”

“Yes, and maybe your shoulders.”

“And, how long will the tests take?”

“You’ll be in the machine a total of 45 minutes for both tests.  We look forward to seeing you tomorrow!”  (Seriously, why was she so happy?!?)

As eager as Perky Receptionist was, I just could not share her enthusiasm.  I was extremely nervous.  I had never had an MRI before, but I knew it would be a tight space, and I knew I hated tight spaces.  Trying to be optimistic, I planned on taking my Calm-Your-Butt-Down drug (luckily, I never take these, so one prescription can last me years), and I planned on saying the rosary.  I figure God gave us ten fingers for this reason, I keep track of the decades on one hand, my Hail Marys on the other.

Fast forward to the big day.  The Husband drove me to the MRI, telling me that if “you’re a good girl for your test, I’ll get you a cookie after.”  (Is he confusing me with the children???)  After waiting a short while, I was ushered to the back (technically called “The Medically Necessary Torture Chamber”), where I got to strip down, then put on a lovely hospital gown.  Continue reading

Yippie Ki Yay???

Some people wake up to the sounds of music.  Some people wake up to the sounds of nature.  Some people are awakened with a kiss.  However, in our house, there are no soothing, calming ways to arise.

Not when The Younger Boy is around.

He is always the first one up, and he usually wakes up happy, but Saturday was a special occasion.  He was making his first Confession.  So, I wasn’t too surprised when he ran into the room at 7am, galloping and singing this little ditty:

“I’m making my first confession, first confession, doo doo da doo!  Whoop whoop!  Yippie Ki Yay!”

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Mystery Solved

“I know God won’t give me anything I can’t handle.  I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.”  –Blessed Mother Teresa

It’s been a rough two years for me.  I’ve had some health problems, and no one has really been able to help.  My doctors have all shuffled me from one to the other, all claiming that my problems were not their problems (professionally speaking).  I went from never feeling bad, to feeling bad every couple of months.  I’ve been diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), Epstein Barr Virus, severe vitamin deficiency, and–my personal favorite–depression.  All were treated (I even had a surgical procedure for the PCOS), yet I never felt better.  I would be healthy and energetic for a few months, then I would get sick for a few months.

Then, shortly after my grandfather’s death, I woke up one morning extremely dizzy, with blurred vision, a pounding in my head, muffled hearing, and left-sided numbness.  I got out of bed, then fell against a wall.  As scary as that episode was, it was the best thing that could have happened.  It sent me to the ER–which found nothing.  I was told that I had an anxiety attack.  (I don’t know how one wakes up with anxiety–apparently that was one hell of a nightmare.)  But, the ER doctor had me follow-up with a neurologist a few days later, who ran a battery of testing, including MRIs, CT scans, a VEP, and a lumbar puncture.

After one month of testing and waiting, I finally got an answer last week.  The neurologist came into the examination room, looked at my husband and myself, and proceeded to show us numbers and test results that I didn’t understand.  But, even though I didn’t understand his medical terminology, I did understand his facial expressions.  His face betrayed his professionalism; he had bad news.  What was his “bad news?” Continue reading