T’was a good Sunday, indeed.
But then I came home last night, happy and contented with such a good day. And Nettie took it upon herself to throw up and be miserable, indeed. So that necessitated a trip to Wal-mart for gingerale and Mylanta — which is what her Standing Medical Orders says is all she can have for upset stomach. I had thought that I would sit in my La-Z-Boy with my feet up for a spell, but it wasn’t to be.
So, I got the offering processed from the weekend, and ready for the bank. Kept checking on the Nettie girl, and sorted some laundry. (Not exactly Sunday activities, but —) And finally went to bed considerbly after midnight.
And then this morning, my Sweet Mama had an appointment in Lewes at the eye doctor at 8:45. I had pretty much promised her that I would take her. She needed her pupils dilated, and she hasn’t been sleeping very well. I didn’t trust her to get there and back safely. The question of scheduling was becoming critical. Middle Sister has been involved in a great saga of hospitals and doctors and her Middle Daughter who has been getting progressively worse with no diagnosis and no hope or help in sight, so I knew that I couldn’t ask her to take Mama. So I called Youngest Sister, and she graciously agreed to take our Sweet Mama to the doctor. This took care of one immediate, pressing concern.
Mondays are always wash day. And it is also the day that Nettie has to have blood work to keep track of her one medication. But this morning, she was really not doing too well. In addition to her stomach virus, the season seems to be producing some depression. And by the time I got Cecila on the bus, Youngest Daughter was complaining that her throat was really, really sore. And she was really, really tired. And did she mention that her throat was really, really sore? And that she was really, really tired? And that if she went to school, she could probably not make it. But if she didn’t go for at least two hours, she couldn’t go to basketball practice. But her throat really, really hurt. And she was really, really tired.
And then Nettie messed her pants and got it all over the floor, and all over the toilet, and all over herself. And it took the grace of God to gently reassure her and clean everything up.
Thirty tries to Youngest Daughter’s doctor finally got an answer and an appointment for 1:00 in Seaford. Five tries to Nettie’s doctor got an answer and an appointment for 11:00 in Millsboro. It was now 9:30. And there was still bloodwork to get done in Milford. And Youngest Daughter wanted to go to school for two hours. So, it was off to Lab Corp with Nettie. Who was walking slow. Talking slow. Feeling awful. (But if she didn’t get the blood work done, her phychotropic meds could not be filled, and then we’d have more trouble on our hands!) This is the first time we have ever gone to LabCorp and there was no one in the waiting room. (“If it had not been that the LORD was on our side . . .”) They took her straight in, drew her blood, and then I stopped by home and picked up Youngest Daughter, and we went to Greenwood to school by 10:15. After that, Nettie and I headed for Millsboro and her 11:00 appointment. We pulled into the parking lot with maybe five minutes to spare, but when Nettie went to get out of the van, she began to wail. She stood on the black top outside our white mini van and hugged her middle.
“I have to go to the bathroom. I can’t stop it. I’m messing my pants! What am I gonna’ do? What am I gonna’ do? Wa-h-h-h-h-h-h! I can’t walk!”
“Nettie, just take it easy, girl. Let’s get you inside to the bathroom. We’ll get you cleaned up. It will be okay.” (“Dear Lord, what am I going to do. I don’t carry extra clothes in the car for this sort of thing. Help me to think of something, please!”)
“I’m all wet! I messed my pants. I can’t go in there. What am I gonna’ do? I feel bad!”
“Come on, sweetie. We’ll get you cleaned up, and I will run to the drug store and get you some pull-ups. It will be okay. If I need to get you another pair of slacks, we’ll do that. But let’s get you inside.”
So we trudged in, straight through a very crowded waiting room, (while a most distinctive air surrounded us) to the (thankfully) empty bathroom. It was a sight, (and a horrible stench). There were no rubber gloves. There was no air freshener. Nettie pulled her slacks carefully off, and they were in decent shape. I washed out the undies in the sink, and scrubbed her down with antibacterial soap, and then scrubbed my hands thoroughly. She pulled on her slacks without any undies, and I returned to the receptionist. The stench followed me like a cloud.
“I’m sorry. We’ve made quite a smell in there, and I need to run out and get her some pull-ups. But I don’t really think you want her in this waiting room. She’s been vomiting, and she has this uncontrollable diarrhea. I know that she is contagious. You can do what you want, but I would strongly advise that you put her somewhere in a room away from everyone else, and I will be back as soon as I can.”
Glory be! They wanted to put her into a room by herself. I fled to Happy Harry’s and procured rubber gloves, pull-ups, antibacterial spray, antibacterial hand cleaner, baby powder, and huge personal cleansing wipes. I got back to the unbelievable scene of the Physician’s Assistant already examining her and giving her undivided attention. (Something that rarely happens in that office, I might add. The MD there has been known to spend over an hour with one patient, while people wait four hours for their turn. It is inexcusable, but Nettie likes this MD, and this office KNOWS her, and SHE HAS HER RIGHTS so I don’t get anywhere when I want to switch doctors!!!) I had a most pleasant and informative conversation with the PA while I got Nettie into clean underwear, powdered and disinfected and much more comfortable.
And yes, she does have vicious stomach virus. We went to the drugstore and got what we needed and came on home and now I am trying to get something constructive done. (This isn’t it!)
And Eldest Daughter took Youngest Daughter to her doctor appointment, and there isn’t any strep. And he doesn’t think she has Mono. He did order some blood work that we can get done tomorrow, and hopefully all will be well there, and maybe a good night’s rest will do her the most good.
But guess what! My stomach really doesn’t feel very good. I have been taking anti-nausea medicine this afternoon and trying to think wholesome thoughts, but I am really feeling queasy. Maybe a good night’s rest will do me good, too.
And that is the lament of an untoward Monday