Of Intensity and Doctor’s Visits

Photo: This child… the things we do… I just… I’m goin’ to bed, ya’ll!


This is a blogging fail post because today was a very intense and less-than-productive day.

We had the big lead appointment for Ursa Minor today at the children’s hospital in town and… it was 2 hours of time that I really wish I could get back. Managing two babies in a hospital is not a pleasurable experience and, while they drew his blood again to confirm his current level, we got very little new information out of our time with the doctor.

Now don’t go flaming me. I’m not a educated middle class woman who thinks she knows more than medical doctors. That ain’t what happened here. What happened here was we got a packet of a lot of information about lead contamination and poisoning, we answered a lot of questions about Ursa Minor’s development and habits, and then we sat with a very nice expert (seemingly the expert in the state on these things) who told us a few things: First, Minor’s levels are low. Very low. You don’t even think about a medical intervention until around level 25. Intravenous intervention (in a hospital) at level 40. There is talk about reporting to department of health somewhere in the 20ish level. Concern enough for monthly blood draw check-ins starting at level 10. Minor is at 5 after being at 4. He’s barely in the range of concern.

As a matter of fact, the doctor almost immediately relaxed as soon as he walked in the room with us. Ursa Minor was demanding a toy from me very adamantly: “I think I want the truck, Mommy! I think I want the truck!” The doctor counted his words. “He normally speaks in 5-word sentences?” Oh boy does he. The doctor was really impressed. “We would normally expect a two-year-old to be regularly speaking in 2- or 3-word sentences… that’s really impressive.” Then then went on to explain that some of the first indicators of significant lead poisoning is that language is severely curtailed. “Kids aren’t speaking at all. Or maybe one or two words here or there.”

We talked about foods and what can help carry lead out of the bloodstream. We talked about dust and paint chips and soil… basically, we learned that we’re doing all of the right things, though he suggested that we get a private inspector in here to test and see if he can find anything else around. “Just for the peace of mind. You just might want to have that in hand.”

We won’t have the results for the blood test until Friday, probably. And after typing out all of that, my frustration really does look a little silly. I’m frustrated only because I didn’t know what to expect walking into this visit but I suppose those expectations were high? It didn’t meet whatever impossible standard I was looking for? Maybe because I really hate hospitals and think they are super gross, and I’m not looking forward to the inevitable runny noses the boys are gonna get and, did I mention that managing two babies in a hospital setting is a less-than-enjoyable affair? And yeah, we brought toys. And yeah, we brought our patience… but that ish still wasn’t fun! Not at all!

Or maybe I’m just burnt out because I was up at 5:20 to get everybody (husband included) up, dressed, fed and out the door by 7 this morning (sacrificing my own breakfast, obviously, and settling for only one cup of coffee) and until this moment, I’ve been pretty intensely non-stop ever since.

“But the visit didn’t last all day. Right? What were you doing after that?”

Wellllll… I’d rescheduled a visit with a friend of mine from work, and by the time I’d picked him up, escaped from town, finally found myself something to eat, got gas, and gave him a tour about town… it was 3. And you know the babies weren’t gonna have anything to do with napping when my friend left at 3:30 (“yeah, I’m going to the movies! Gotta get back to the city to meet up with another friend!”)

Anyway. So there was just no wind down time… until right now. With a pretty awesome headache because, well, I abused myself pretty good today.

I wanted to write about the boys and their fun with the giant amazon box in the living room, or the adorable bunny rabbits frolicking in the yard this afternoon while I was preparing bacon for this evening’s BLTs, or even about the emergence of cooperative imaginative play between the boys (with a healthy dose of wrestling for no apparent reason!) but I just can’t even. You’re just gonna have to imagine a house constantly being disturbed by a chase and then the subsequent thumps and squeals and grunts of children wrestling on the carpet (why is it that the older brother is always the one screaming and never the younger?). You can also imagine little boys deciding that a crazy-huge Amazon box is a pirate ship. No, a bed! No, a cave! No, a spider’s web! No, a house! No, a firetruck!!

And you can imagine two adorable bunny rabbits frolicking in my post-rain green yard.

And me yelling out of my window, “Hey, Rabbits! You’re delicious!”

Because they are! So delicious!!

Hey guess what? I just busted out 800 words. Guess this isn’t a bloggy fail after all!

Tomorrow? The car. Friday? More playdates. Also on Friday? Quiet Thoughts. About the beach. And why I should be there.

(probably not)

See you then!

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Britt says:

    Goodness, this one is a cutie. And my (brilliant) children did NOT speak in sentences at that age. Not at all. I remember taking magazine a article to the pediatrician to prove that my obviously delayed child needed intervention because he only said “fish” and “daddy.” This *might* have had something to do with his reluctance to say “mommy”, whatever. I think Ersa Minor is going to be fine. FINE.

    But, Lord, did I loathe the days that thwarted nap time. Grrrr. Looking forward to your Friday thoughts… xoxo

    1. K.C. Wise says:

      It has been a WEEK of no naps!!! my hair is falling out and my skin is melting!

      Did you end up doing early intervention with your child? Ursa Major did EI for a year because he was delayed. It worked wonders!

      1. Britt says:

        Geez, “delayed” gets earlier and earlier. Nope, no intervention required. Eventually, they just started talking. My pediatrician was like, “if they were GIRLS, I’d be worried… but they’re boys… wait a while.”

        It’s sheer torture when they don’t nap. But then when they give it up for good and it doesn’t cause major meltdowns around dinnertime, then life gets a bit easier. These are the difficult years. Anyone who tells you it gets harder than what you are doing RIGHT NOW had oodles of helpers or drank way too much and doesn’t remember.

  2. I’m just glad to hear we can’t stick fridge magnets on the boys 🙂

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.