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Published On: Aug 25, 2004 09:37 PM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Aug 25, 2004 09:37 PM
Lame
One minute I was standing there, fine, the next
moment I took a step where the curb wasn't and was in pain.
The hazards of wearing a baby front carrier
include being unable to see your feet and having your balance just a little not.
And I found myself desperately wishing there were someone who would take care of
me, decide, yes we're going to go see a doctor or maybe even that I should lie
down and put my foot up. But Raven's got a paper due, and there was no way I
was going to sit in an emergency room with a hyper four year old, loquacious six
year old and miserable chicken poxed nine month old. And once again I've
decided we're utter fools for living in a city where we have no extended
family.
Okay, really there's more here than self-pity. And shock and outrage that this could happen at so inconvenient a time. I recognize that I'm lucky I have health insurance and if I had needed emergency care I could have handed my two older kids over to a friend who was right there, probably even gotten her to take me to the emergency room. I am capable of a pathetic, slow walk, I was mostly scared and embarrassed when I fell.
But it was the second time this week when I had to decide whether a consultation with a doctor was necessary. I took Søren to our doctor and got confirmation that this is indeed chicken pox, that will be $20 please. I then came home and looked in a couple of home healing books for any tips on making him comfortable, how long to expect this to go on, talked to a friend about how long he'll be contagious, what the incubation period is. There's a lot more free information available on the internet, and one of the things that I'm secretly thrilled about with the so-called "Information Revolution" is the unseating of any one Authority whom you trust with such a large area of your family's life. I went through an uncomfortable paradigm shift with the midwife-assisted birth and reading all I could about birth to realize that not everything a doctor does for you is always in your best interest. That doesn't mean, however, that with all the information in the world I am comfortable deciding what's a sprain, what's a twist, what's a bug bite, what's a rash.
Mostly growing up has been a gradual thing -- there are occasional hallmarks and a few jolts. I still look over my shoulder for the adult when a waiter says "Ma'm" and when we bought our first house after years of renting, it took a week before I stopped thinking how annoyed the real owners were going to be when they saw all of our stuff in their house. Nothing, of course, compares with taking your first child home from the hospital -- how can anyone trust you with this amazingly small and vulnerable innocent little person? I don't know what I'll do to prepare my own children for negotiating with a plumber or demanding what they need from the representative of their health insurance company, only I think good parenting means they won't have to worry about these things until they are prepared to handle them. But I suppose the lessons just keep coming at you until you get them down. Wish some of them were less painful than this, though.
Okay, really there's more here than self-pity. And shock and outrage that this could happen at so inconvenient a time. I recognize that I'm lucky I have health insurance and if I had needed emergency care I could have handed my two older kids over to a friend who was right there, probably even gotten her to take me to the emergency room. I am capable of a pathetic, slow walk, I was mostly scared and embarrassed when I fell.
But it was the second time this week when I had to decide whether a consultation with a doctor was necessary. I took Søren to our doctor and got confirmation that this is indeed chicken pox, that will be $20 please. I then came home and looked in a couple of home healing books for any tips on making him comfortable, how long to expect this to go on, talked to a friend about how long he'll be contagious, what the incubation period is. There's a lot more free information available on the internet, and one of the things that I'm secretly thrilled about with the so-called "Information Revolution" is the unseating of any one Authority whom you trust with such a large area of your family's life. I went through an uncomfortable paradigm shift with the midwife-assisted birth and reading all I could about birth to realize that not everything a doctor does for you is always in your best interest. That doesn't mean, however, that with all the information in the world I am comfortable deciding what's a sprain, what's a twist, what's a bug bite, what's a rash.
Mostly growing up has been a gradual thing -- there are occasional hallmarks and a few jolts. I still look over my shoulder for the adult when a waiter says "Ma'm" and when we bought our first house after years of renting, it took a week before I stopped thinking how annoyed the real owners were going to be when they saw all of our stuff in their house. Nothing, of course, compares with taking your first child home from the hospital -- how can anyone trust you with this amazingly small and vulnerable innocent little person? I don't know what I'll do to prepare my own children for negotiating with a plumber or demanding what they need from the representative of their health insurance company, only I think good parenting means they won't have to worry about these things until they are prepared to handle them. But I suppose the lessons just keep coming at you until you get them down. Wish some of them were less painful than this, though.
Posted: Fri - August 22, 2003 at 11:39 AM