Earlier today I was waiting to turn left on a busy highway. I know I’m a little conservative when it comes to driving, but hey, I’m still alive. In my rear-view mirror, I see the guy two cars behind me pull out of the lane, around and then in front of me so he can turn left first. I’m shocked; completely flabbergasted. There truly was no chance to turn left until he finally did — first, mind you — then me right after.
I then realize I must be under more stress than I imagined, for I burst into tears. What this idiot did felt like a personal affront; he went above and beyond the call of duty to be rude. Why in this world would anyone do such a complicated maneuver to get five seconds faster down the road?
I am not having a good time.
Yesterday Sam had two more doctor’s appointments: the allergist and his pediatrician. I am getting weary of doctors; I know Sam is. Sam was coddled, admired, and poked while I recounted his dramatic narrative multiple times. Once, I talked poor Sam to sleep.
Sam probably has a derivative of allergies known as FPIES, which stands for food protein induced enterocolitis syndrome. The link will tell you a hell of a lot more than I care to type right now, but essentially he has an ‘allergy’ to something in the cereal he ate, he could have other reactions, and you can’t test for these reactions; it’s a trial and error thing.
So no more solids for Sam until Christmas when we will try a cereal again, but one that is rice only (the cereal Sam had also contained soy). I am not looking forward to this at all. I do not want Sam to go through that horrible experience ever again. EVER.
At the follow up with the pediatrician, we scheduled the extra testing that has to be done on young kids that get urinary tract intentions. Tomorrow morning Sam will get an ultrasound scan of his urinary system and dye will be injected into his bladder to see if it backs up into his kidneys.
I hope beyond hope that this test shows everything is okay. There is only so much I care to deal with right now. The stress of all this is starting to close in around the edges like dark, heavy curtains that you’re trying to frame around a window but they keep flapping shut, and you’re wondering what possessed you to buy the damn curtains in the first place. They sure are ugly and collect a lot of dust, which bothers my nose.
So yeah, that’s why when that buttmunch went out of his way to let me know he’s a buttmunch, I cried. But I gave him the finger too, not like that’s any better of me.