I'm writing this column wearing latex gloves covered
in hand sanitizer because I'm a first-time mom and nervous as a cat on a
hot tin roof.
Twice a Day for Ten Days:
I'd love to tell you those were doctors' orders for something far more exciting, but no.
In our house if it ends in "cillin" or has both an "x" and a "y" in the name, is liquid and isn't part of the alphabet song, you can bet we've been prescribed it in the last three weeks.
Symptoms:
(Two) Double ear infections.
5 teeth.
Respiratory virus.
Eyes matted so badly that we ran Caroline's tiny hands along the cows so that she knew she was home without seeing proof.
Life in general.
BUT WE ARE OF RESILIENT STOCK!!
When I was 13 my Dad broke his arm after a suspense lever came loose on a loading chute. He went about his business for two days with his arm resting on a 2 x 4 board and took two aspirin. When his hand began to turn green he decided to get it checked out. I just wasn't raised in a home that over-medicates.
So drugs in this house are like the gluten in a Seattle condo: they don't belong and we aren't sure how to use them.
I keep telling myself that by the time Caroline is school age, she'll get the award for 12 years of perfect attendance because she has been exposed to every germ on both sides of the Mississippi. More times than once.
Indiana to Kansas.
Kansas to Indiana.
Indiana to Kansas.
Does perfect attendance merit scholarships?
Asking for a friend.
During our last Pediatric center visit (Caroline thinks this is our vacation home) Caroline waved good-bye to everyone in the joint as though she knew she'd see them next week. Our daughter may be both intuitive and super social, and I link that to genetics. She is double bred.
Our health insurance is getting a full run for its money because on Monday I had a dentist appointment over my lunch hour.
Between the initial cleaning and the consultation with the dentist I fell asleep in the chair.
Like....really asleep.
As in chin to chest, drool, asleep.
I woke to the young dentist (re)(re)reintroducing herself and trying to shake my limp hand.
All while I was still trying to figure out where I was and how I got there.
I wiped the drool from my chin and explained that I had fallen asleep. She laughed awkwardly and explained that - for the first time in 13 years - I have cavity that needs filled.
Why does everyone want my money?
Last night - in an effort to clean out the deep freezer - I thawed steaks that had been stored too long. I was embarrassed, in fact, that cuts such as those as fallen to the back of the freezer and weren't grilled during the greatest opportunity. I thawed and seasoned them anyway.
While praying over our supper Cody held my hand and Caroline's and closed with "And we pray that the grey meat Lindsay prepared doesn't hurt any of us."
Amen, buddy.
A-M-E-N.
But I have peace of mind knowing that anything that he and I consumed last night can be addressed with something taken "twice a day for ten days."
Two serious questions:
1. Does this count?
2. Does our health insurance cover it?
I had a routine wellness check nearly a month ago.
You know, the kind where they ask for your blood, urine, time, patience, insurance card and father's grandfather's uncle's health history.
I told the doctor that I thought he was healthy but passed at age 30.
World War I really took a toll on the young, healthy guys.
I was asked to sit alone in a quiet, cold room and proofread five pages of contact information followed by eight pages of health history.
How many times should I need to write my last name, middle initial and first name for one appointment, do you think?
Six.
How many times did I write "Bowman" rather than "Sankey"?
Twice.
Perhaps year five is the ticket.
Then I moved into the health history questionnaire.
Every year prior, I've breezed through this bad boy like a college student who knew they were going to pass the class without regard to how they did on the final.
All answers were - proudly - marked NO.
This time was different.
This was the first time in a while that I was
1. Alone
2. Not in my car
3. Not in the shower
4. Completely focused on me.
This time I took the wellness survey quite seriously.
Do you have an existing and/or recent problem with:
Please explain all answers marked YES.
Insomnia: YES
I haven't slept in 9 months
Daytime drowsiness: YES
I think not sleeping in 9 months may have something to do with this.
Recent weight gain/loss in the last 6 months: YES
I've teetered between the same 30 lbs. for the last nine months.
I eat a slab of rocky road nightly in hopes to bounce back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. They're my favorites and GAP stopped making them.
Sensitive ears: YES
There was a time in my life when I lived one block from railroad tracks and I never once heard the (4) night trains.
Today I can hear Mike Craig's (neighbor) cows bawl and I can also hear Caroline's toes wiggle. I can hear clouds move. Make it stop.
Shortness of breath when walking with other people at an ordinary pace on level ground: YES
Have you ever tried to push a stroller through mud while carrying a 5-gallon bucket of feed?
I didn't think so.
Wheezing that interferes with your job: YES
See above.
Heartburn that is not related to eating: YES
11 months of the 2016 Election
Pain in abdomen: YES
26 hours of labor.
Thought I was tough.
She's healthy and strong and it all worked out.
Pain in neck: YES
My brother
Numbness in limbs: YES
Sometimes when CJ (thats my daughter, not my husband) falls asleep in the recliner with me I wake up and can't feel or move my arms.
Wondering if life is worth it: YES
In the last week I have stubbed the same ingrown toenail on the same coffee table in the 5:15 AM darkness. Twice.
I submitted my clipboard to the nurse and took a cat nap on the paper table lining while she and her team analyzed my honesty.
The doctor came in the room six short minutes (I was counting on a 30-minute snooze) later.
She held on to her stethoscope like it was a necklace and crossed her legs like a friend leaning in for a really raw chat.
"How are you, Lindsay?"
"I'm well," I responded without thought.
She leaned in like a sister that knew too much.
"I have a seven-month-old at home and it's bull sale season.....Travel season for my husband," I responded without prompt. "And we're calving."
She smiled.
"You need to get that baby to bed earlier. Take daily walks. And shut off your phone after 9:00 every night."
Three instructions.
No drugs.
I walked out of the doctor's office wondering if I was a hypochondriac.
Then I quietly assured myself:
Not a hypochondriac, I'm a mother.
