Again, with the seizures.

I mean, seriously. 

We had our pediatrician appointment at 11 on Thursday.  The morning went OK.  Olivia was fussy, but ate well and went down for a nap.   I had to wake her to leave for the doctor.  We got there right on time.  When I get out of the car, I always pop my head over the window like a total douche and try to surprise Olivia.  It usually makes her laugh.  This time, though, I found her foaming at the mouth.

Seizure.

So I wait it out.  It is about a minute or so until she stops.  I literally run into the pediatrician office, throw my credit card at the nurse and tell her about the seizure.  They let us go right back to an exam room. 

Apparently, the phrase "seizure in the car" grants you all sorts of cool privileges, like three nurses, and a doctor who runs into the room 30 seconds after you get there. 

Olivia's just miserable.  She is groaning and writhing and is burning up with a 104.1 temperature.  The normally laid-back pediatrician says she is totally uncomfortable with the way she looks - get thee to an ER immediately.  She'll call and let them know you're coming, and that they might want to consider a spinal tap.

I'm an ugly crier.  I spend the next 10 minutes trying not to cry, just trying to wait until I got to the parking lot at least before I lose my shit.  Waiting for confirmation of where to go, and waiting for a dose of Tylenol.  Texting everyone. 

We leave.  It takes about 20 minutes to get to the ER.  I speed.  I dare someone to pull me over. 

You assume that when your doctor tells you to go immediately, and calls ahead, that you will be seen quickly.  And we were, in fact, seen - 2 hours later. 

There were barfing kids everywhere.  Olivia never cries, just dozes and groans.  She eats a little.  Her temperature goes down to 102 and that is surprisingly thrilling considering her recent heat wave.  Mark gets lost in the clusterfuck of one way streets by the hospital but we're still waiting by the time he gets there. 

A woman is talking about how her sister's babies are too skinny and it's disgusting, and how that's probably why they are always sick.  She keeps feeding her sick kid big pieces of chocolate so he won't cry.  I want to kick her in the throat, and I also feel guilty for not being able to fatten Olivia up.  Maybe it is why she's sick right now.

I feel physically ill.  I wonder if I can vomit in the trash can while holding Olivia.  I doubt it, but there is already vomit all over the place, so maybe I can just vomit on someone else's pile and nobody will know. Maybe I will vomit on Skinny Baybee Hater Laydee.

We get back to our room and Olivia is still miserable.  We meet with a McSteamy-looking doctor.  He tells us that our pediatrician suggested a spinal tap to check for meningitis.  He  is going to meet with the attending and they will come back and let us know. 

Olivia falls asleep.  McSteamy comes back with another doctor, and Olivia smiles at them. The little shit hasn't smiled all day.  She knows a handsome doctor when she sees one.  But he has on a wedding ring, and so she just goes back to sleep.  McAverage-Looking Attending decides that no spinal tap will happen because meningitis baybees don't smile.

Catheter.  A little bacteria in her urine.  Treating a Urinary Tract Infection, but fairly certain that she Just Has A Virus.  Realize that there is another saying that is as infuriating as Maybe If You Just Relax.  Consider changing blog name, but am afraid that people will think I have herpes.

(I don't have herpes.)

We are discharged.  I realize that it is a fucking blizzard outside.  It takes me and Olivia two hours and ten minutes to make the drive home, which usually takes 25 minutes.  Olivia doesn't make a peep the entire way.  I hope that she's OK.

She sleeps all night.  Still has a fever Friday morning.  Fussy all day.  No apetite.  Spits out her antibiotics, for no reason because they taste really good, yum, I should get some of these.  We survive the day. 

I start dinner.  Shake and Bake pork chops because I am fancy.  Obviously. 

Mark calls with good news and bad news.  Good news: out of work early.  Bad news: a semi lost its spare tire on the highway, and Mark hit it.  New car is fucked.  I forgot to change our deductable.  It is $500. 

Repairs will cost $460.

Of course they will.

* waves white flag *

Today is Saturday.  Olivia has a rash all over her back.  This makes me happy, because she probably has Roseola and not the plague or herpes or whatever. 

(She does not have herpes.)

Send beer.