Same Old, Same Old

I long to write about things other than infections and bad weather just as much as you would like to read about things other than infections and bad weather.  My next post will mention neither.  I promise.  But for now, please humor me and read yet another bitch post on these awfully disgusting topics.

As we sat in the pediatrician's office on Friday, I already knew the diagnosis before the doc stepped foot in the room.  I told her my suspicions but she wasn't convinced.  Punky just finished some heavy-duty antibiotics five days earlier.  The doctor fully expected to see clear ears despite my story about coughing, sneezing, whining, low fevers, and Punky's flat out refusal to eat that day.

A quick glance in her left ear put an end to the doctor's optimism.  Another double ear infection.  I knew it.  A mother's instinct is never wrong.

So, after she wrote a script for yet another potent antibiotic, we briefly touched on the topic of tubes.  The doctor thinks it's too early to refer her to an ear, nose, and throat specialist.  Her argument is that aside from the last five months or so Punky has generally been very healthy.  This season just hit her exceptionally hard with daycare now in the mix.  She wants to wait for the weather to break, and cold/flu season to pass, and then evaluate the situation.  If she stops getting sick, there is no need to go any further.  If the cold-induced ear infections continue into the summer, tubes it shall be.  Cripes.

The next visit for a follow-up to this most recent infection isn't until April 5th.  We finished the antibiotic yesterday.  Ten bucks we will be back at the doctor for another possible ear infection before then.  I hope I'm wrong.  I really, really hope.

Now for the second shitty topic: snow.  Mother nature pulled a fast one once again.  We awoke to an easy eight to ten inches this morning (they were calling for one to three) and then got a few more after daybreak.  She topped it all off with a generous dose of freezing rain, sleet, and even about fifteen minutes of hail.  Mighty impressive.  Bitch.  Look at the damn calendar, would you?  I thought we were finished with this shit.  

The ride into work was the absolute worst one I've experienced since starting this job over three years ago.  I passed five accidents on my morning commute, and ended up sideways and almost off the road myself three times.  By the time I got to work...an hour and thirty five minutes after embarking on my usual half-hour ride...I was literally shaking and in the midst of a massive anxiety attack.  I'm thankful that my boss kept his distance for a while; it was taking every ounce of strength I had not to storm into his office and utter the famous line, "Take this job and shove it."  Which would've been followed up with the words, "I quit.  I'm never driving on that effing road in a snowstorm again."  And those words would've been followed up with days of crying and panic when I realized what a stupid move that was.  

By about eleven, I was calm and level-headed again; work is an awesome distraction.  Then the phone rang and I was right back where I started.  They decided to close the daycare.  I had to go get Punky. 

Of course, this is the week that Punky's dad and I are both dayshift...so it's my week to take her to daycare bright and early in the morning.  I was awake before five-thirty.  I got myself ready for work.  I woke Punky at six.  I fed her.  Dressed her.  Combed her hair.  Brushed her teeth.  Packed her things for school.  I spent twenty minutes outside in a blizzard cleaning mounds of snow off my car.  Then I needed to change my clothes because I was totally soaked.  I took Punky out in terrible conditions and risked her life just to get her to daycare.  I then risked mine further on the long, treacherous drive into work as cars all around me were ditch diving left and right.  I suffered an anxiety attack to the point where I contemplated quitting my job.  I finally calmed down...and then they decided to close the damn daycare.  Enter anxiety attack number two.  

I lost track of all the hours I've missed at work in the last few months.  Between Punky being sick, me being sick, doctor appointments, and bad weather, I can't remember the last time I worked a full forty-hour week.  If this keeps up, I won't need to ponder quitting; the decision will be made for me.  Needless to say, I dreaded telling my boss that I needed to leave yet again.  Plus I was facing the same miserable, dangerous ride I barely survived a few hours earlier.  I was not happy.  Not one bit. 

If they would've closed the daycare first thing in the morning, like all the rest of the schools in the area, I could've avoided all the stress and aggravation.  Well, I still would've missed an entire day of work, but at this point that wouldn't have made me look any worse than I already do. 

Ready to race down the slide!

After all the whining and bitching above, this post deserves a happy ending.  On Sunday we decided to say screw the weather, screw the infections, and screw the date on the calendar.  It was sunny.  Only forty degrees, but sunny nonetheless.  We packed on layers of clothing and headed to the playground.  Punky's been dying to go, and all the snow from the last storm was gone, so we decided to surprise her.  We didn't tell her where we were going.  When we pulled into the parking lot, the look on her face was priceless.  Given today's storm, I'm glad we took the opportunity while we had it.  At this rate, it may be June until we can do it again.