Reasons for my first blog post in well over a year...
1. Blogging again has been niggling at the back of my mind for a few months now.
2. Circumstances warranted it (see main content).
3. Roy bought a Chromebook and I wanted to play with his new toy.
I guess I didn't really have a choice.
Backtracking to last Friday...
Doctors appointments with three boys are no joke. They are, perhaps, the single biggest event I have to think through meticulously ahead of time. In addition to the basic necessities (keys, phone, wallet) I also have to make sure I have the right insurance cards, ample activities to survive waiting rooms, a secret bribe in case of needles, and anybody who is being inspected should have probably bathed somewhat recently. (That's the hardest part.)
So, anyway. Owen's annual pediatric immunology appointment was on Friday. His doctor operates out of the biggest hospital downtown. We are fortunate to have him seen by one of the best, but this necessitates making appointments months in advance. We had waited four months for this appointment and I was looking forward to having his allergen levels tested and hoping for improvement again this year. Last year he tested negative for hazelnuts and he and James consumed more celebratory Nutella in 2018 than I should probably publicly admit.
I packed the kids up, with all the necessities, and we were out the door an hour before the appointment started. It usually only takes 15 minutes to get the hospital, but we were going to be dealing with rush hour traffic and a parking garage. I waved forlornly to my barely-sipped cup of coffee on the way to the garage.
But! Miracles! We had zero traffic and found a parking spot without issue. We entered the main lobby at Strong with 40 minutes to spare. I eyed the coffee shop across the expanse and decided we could swing it. We entered the queue.
James and Owen immediately began begging for a snack. I juggled my purse (and Felix) to reach for my wallet when I felt a lurch on my right side. Suddenly there was a trickle of warmth down my arm. I looked at Felix, who looked back at me and then, urgently, baptized us both with his breakfast.
Motherly instincts are never more present than in those split seconds when you have to decide what to do about all the puke. Should I catch it in my hand? Should I drop the kid? (No.) Should I jump out of the way? My lack of caffeine did not help me here. By the time it was over my lovely trench coat was covered. There was puke in my purse and on my pants. It was in my shoes. It was all over Felix, his clothes, his shoes, and his George. It was all over the floor too. It was just all over.
The barista on duty shot us a look of disgust and called cleaning services. I asked, as graciously as I could, for some napkins. "I just called cleaning services so you'll have to wait for them to get here."
I looked back at the barista (hopefully not with too much disgust...) and replied, "Look, I'm dripping in vomit and so is my baby. Where are your napkins?"
A customer came to our aid with napkins. I bagged all of the stuffed animals and articles of clothing not required for basic modesty and surveyed the scene.
We waited four months for this appointment. We were all there. We had to at least check in.
So we went to the sixth floor and checked in. I explained the situation (I don't think they needed much of a verbal on that one) and, bless them, we were able to get some help. I was pointed towards a bathroom and was met there with a little hospital gown for Felix. For not being the patient I was paying for, he looked awfully pathetic and cute. I washed my pants off best as I could and returned to the waiting room. Sometime between lobby and here Owen's jacket had come off. I doubted we'd ever see it again.
We decided to stay for the appointment. It couldn't be more than an hour right? We had come all this way...
To trim what is already a very long story, the boys got to watch about 8 Curious George episodes and Felix threw up again before we were finally done. Sometime during the third hour I promised James and Owen that I would pick up whatever they wanted for lunch. Perhaps they anticipated this bribe because they replied in perfect, seemingly rehearsed, unison, "Chicken Charlie pizza from Salvatores."
"You got it guys. Let's just stay as patient as we can while we wait."
James, looks at Owen, "We have to stay STRONG Owen!"
Owen, looks at James, "No, YOU have to stay strong James!"
We got home with hot, fresh pizza. I did laundry. I had a cup of coffee. Felix didn't throw up again. (Thank buddy for only needing to do that while we were out...) The world slowly righted itself again.
Owen, in case you were wondering, skin-tested negative for both pistachios and PEANUTS this time. We still need official blood work, but we're optimistic that he might be able to have food challenges for both these foods in the near future. Oh, for a world with peanut butter again. Glory be!
I am thankful for the time and new toy to record this experience for posterity. Maybe Roy will let me borrow it again sometime and I can blog twice in one calendar year.
P.S. If you happen to be at Strong Hospital and see a little blue and yellow windbreaker, it belongs to Owen. And if you see a little blue velcro sneaker, size 5.5, it's Felix's. Just the one sneaker. My dignity is lying around there someplace too.
