{"id":9175,"date":"2023-10-02T12:16:24","date_gmt":"2023-10-02T16:16:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/?p=9175"},"modified":"2023-10-26T08:03:05","modified_gmt":"2023-10-26T12:03:05","slug":"the-point","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/2023\/10\/02\/the-point\/","title":{"rendered":"The Point"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Arlo starts asking to go home immediately. \u201cUmm?\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, silly, we just got here,\u201d I say. My sister was almost done with the shrimp tacos. I know Arlo won\u2019t eat them, but she always has something in the fridge that he likes. \u201cYou want a hot dog?\u201d I ask him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUmm,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot yet, buddy,\u201d I say. \u201cWe\u2019ll go home in a little bit.\u201d
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUmm,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An hour later, the rest of us have eaten, but he hasn\u2019t, and he starts to gag. I whisk him to the bathroom. Because of his Nissen, he can\u2019t throw up, but what\u2019s in must come out, so I pull down his pants and sit him on the potty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou feel better?\u201d I say, after he fills it up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYah,\u201d he says with a giggle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCake?\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s hard to tell sometimes if he\u2019s sick or if he\u2019s just cleaning himself out after a bout of constipation. I don\u2019t always know exactly how much Miralax he\u2019s had; sometimes he pours his water in the dogs\u2019 bowl. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But he quits asking to go home and eats a piece of lemon cake. That night, he has a pretty gnarly diaper, but he\u2019s in good spirits, so OK.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Approximately twenty-four hours after Arlo\u2019s request to go umm, sharp pains shoot through my belly, short ones at first, growing into a meteor shower of pain in my midsection. I, alas, have no Nissen, and suffer the resulting indignity. The boys more or less put themselves to bed while I lie on the bathroom floor, telling myself aloud, \u201cIt\u2019ll pass\u2026 It\u2019ll be OK\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following morning, I\u2019m not at 100%, but the pain is gone, and I\u2019m even able to eat a little bit. I guess Arlo and I had the world\u2019s shortest stomach virus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That afternoon, I pull up in car line. Patrick walks over clutching his belly. \u201cMy stomach hurts,\u201d he says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember barfing at least<\/em> once a year growing up, but Patrick\u2019s almost 9 and I can think of only two instances in his life, both many years ago. That\u2019s why, despite Arlo\u2019s and my woes, all of us are startled an hour later when Patrick projectile-vomits all over himself, me, the couch, the floor, and the bathroom. \u201cIt came out my nnnnooooose,\u201d he wails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But, again, once I Lysol-wipe all the surfaces and he showers, he is basically no worse for wear. I\u2019ll keep him home the next day, of course, but I guess we\u2019re all on the upswing. Thank god. Between the tree falling on my house during a storm a couple weeks prior, and a fucking German roach infestation in my kitchen\u2013disgusting!\u2013I\u2019m feeling sorry for myself. I deserve a break<\/em>, I pout.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Except an hour later, my nausea returns. I have very little in my stomach, so once that\u2019s out, it\u2019s water and bile. Then just bile. As each wave rips through me, I retch so hard I wonder if my eyes will rupture. The barfing ends at 1:30am, but I don\u2019t sleep\u2013every muscle in my body feels like a blue bruise. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had imagined watching movies and strolling around the block with the boys, but the next day, I am supine. When I simply must get up, I moan a little moan with every step. Patrick plays video games for ten hours. I don\u2019t even know what Arlo does. Surely, tomorrow will be better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 4:00am, I write lesson plans and send them to my administration and text my sister and brother-in-law: Any way one of you can take the boys to school?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I spend another day unable to do anything but intermittently shuffle, moaning, from my bed to the bathroom, but by late afternoon, I\u2019ve kept down eight crackers and two Tylenol, and I feel well enough to pick up the dudes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My vice principal texts to ask if I need a sub for the next day. \u201cNah,\u201d I tell her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 3:00am, I awake with a shiver. I am freezing. The shivers come every five seconds. I turn on the shower as hot as I can, sit down in the stall, wrap my arms around my bent knees, and let the water pour over me. Eventually, I stand and reach for the corner with the shampoo\u2013might as well wash my hair\u2013but the shelf is not there. The wall extends into seeming infinity. For ten terrifying seconds, I\u2019m in an Escher painting. Turns out, I\u2019ve pivoted and am reaching for the wrong corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Arlo wanders into my room. \u201cEar off,\u201d he says. Oh no. I think he\u2019s asking me to turn the pain off in his ear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I text the VP: Gonna need a sub after all<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I write more sub plans. By 6:00, I\u2019m burning up. I find my cheap thermometer that reads normal as 97.4 and stick it against my temple\u2026 102. Uh, does that mean I actually have a temperature of 103? I take two Tylenol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brother-in-law ferries Patrick to school, and at 8:00, I give myself a rapid COVID test (negative) and start calling doctor\u2019s offices. I secure an 11:30 appointment for Arlo, but my provider doesn\u2019t return my message. Perhaps I shouldn\u2019t be driving\u2026 The Tylenol have kicked in, so I do. The doc looks in Arlo\u2019s ears and pronounces them \u201cfine.\u201d Yay! Maybe \u201cear off\u201d meant he couldn\u2019t hear? But then why do they suddenly look fine? Whatever. I\u2019ll take the win.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The urgent care in the next town over has the shortest wait times, so we drive over there. The nurse gives me another COVID test (negative) and asks if I can give her a urine sample. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d I say, but in the bathroom, only a trickle comes out. And it\u2019s the color of sweet tea. Um. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doctor looks at my lab results and pronounces me dehydrated. He listens to my various organ noises with his stethoscope and then palpates my abdomen. \u201cHow does this feel?\u201d he says, tapping on my side. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot great<\/em>,\u201d I say. Other side? Also not great.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He taps right about on my c-section scar, and I nearly bend in half. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou need to go directly to the Emergency Department for imaging,\u201d he says. \u201cThat should not be happening.\u201d When pressed about possibilities, he offers a litany of -itis<\/em>es. I\u2019m not fond of the sound of any of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ED is relatively quiet, save the poor woman retching violently into a bag and moaning, clearly suffering from whatever I had a few days prior. Within half an hour, I\u2019m taken back to triage.The nurse leaves for 15 minutes in the middle of my check-in for an \u201cunresponsive in the car, possible overdose\u201d call, then tells me it should \u201conly\u201d be a couple hours before I\u2019m seen. There are real emergencies, and then there\u2019s whatever I\u2019ve got. Back in the waiting room, I do notice a startling number of people who look like they\u2019re not currently<\/em> overdosing, but they\u2019ve probably had a snootful of Narcan at some point, and I send up a little \u201cthanks\u201d to the universe. Considering my family history and mental illness, my lack of drug addiction is attributable only to dumb luck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brother-in-law picks up Patrick from school, and my sister swings by to grab Arlo. The nurse was right\u2013about two hours after triage, I\u2019m taken back to a curtained bed in an over-air-conditioned ward. The doc comes across as eminently knowledgeable and personable. We chat. She\u2019ll order two liters of fluids and a CT scan, but she guesses my gut is just \u201crepopulating\u201d after the virus, and that\u2019s what\u2019s causing my abdominal pain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"\/<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The IV cranks fluids into my veins. Even after two bags, I still barely pee at all. I guess I was <\/em>dehydrated. Several boring hours later, I\u2019m wheeled into an even-more-freezing room for my CT. Like other scans I\u2019ve had\u2013MRI, sonogram\u2013the CT machine seems like something out of Star Trek<\/em>. How does it know things<\/em>?! Before they wheel me back to my spot, the nurse covers me in a warm blanket, and I want to kiss her and do her laundry and buy her a spa day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With the passing hours, I become more bored but more reassured. If there was something startling on the CT, they\u2019d surely have whisked me into surgery by now. \u2026Right?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doc finally swings back by. \u201cI\u2019m sending you home,\u201d she says. Yahoooooooooo! \u201cBut\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Uh-oh. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2013there were some incidental findings that you\u2019ll need to get checked out later.\u201d I have a lesion on my liver (MRI) and a big cyst on my right ovary (ultrasound). They\u2019re probably nothing, but I\u2019ll need to keep tabs on them.Great, another thing for my to-do list! Whatever. I walk out of the ED $1,049 poorer than I was at noon and take deep breaths of the cool night air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At home, the boys jump out of their bunks when they hear me come in the door. Patrick inquires sweetly how I\u2019m feeling, and Arlo points out my \u201cbandaid\u201d (the gauze and bandage from my IV). My sister heads home. The three of us fall into bed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019ll take awhile for my pee to turn yellow, and for two more days, the idea of eating is unappealing, then I\u2019m back to craving Nutty Buddies like usual. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whenever I write something like this, I want that to be it. Do I have to have a Point? The Point is that this happened to me. The Point is it sucked. But the rules of literature say I should learn something from it. I should change or develop in some way. I should evolve or devolve as a person. I should deliver to you, the reader, some universal truth or lesson that you can connect with or apply to your own life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t know. Be thankful for your health? Drink water? Things can always get worse, until they get better? The American healthcare system will eventually bankrupt us all? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How about you say. What\u2019s the point? Tell me. But do drink water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

**********<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I want to quit my job, but I can’t afford health insurance, so support me on Patreon<\/a>! Thank you!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Arlo starts asking to go home immediately. \u201cUmm?\u201d he says. \u201cNo, silly, we just got here,\u201d I say. My sister was almost done with the shrimp tacos. I know Arlo won\u2019t eat them, but she always has something in the fridge that he likes. \u201cYou want a hot dog?\u201d I ask him. \u201cUmm,\u201d he says. … Continue reading The Point<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,10,18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9175","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fambly","category-kids-these-days","category-t-m-i"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9175","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9175"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9175\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9181,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9175\/revisions\/9181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9175"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9175"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/avidbruxist.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}