Made in Richmond

I’ve had a sinus infection since the beginning of December.

Yes. Six weeks of INFECTION in my FACE.

The fact that I have a sinus infection is not at all surprising; I get them all the time. But they typically aren’t so persistent.

So after a Z-pack and a round of 875mg of amoxicillin twice a day for 10 days, I am now on a 10 day run of Augmentin to be paired with Mucinex D until I’m finished with the antibiotic. If THAT doesn’t work, I have a prescription for some sort of steroid situation tucked away if needed.

And if THAT doesn’t work, I get to have a CT scan done of my face because my doctor thinks I could possibly have some sort of internal, structural issue causing these infections that would require surgery In fact, he even asked me if I suffered any sort of trauma to my nose or face because my nasal passages just don’t drain properly.

How hot is that?

The amount of medication required to keep me functioning and feeling ok at this moment is a bit ridiculous. Here’s a list!

1. Zoloft (for my brain)
2. Clonazepam (also for my brain, but only as needed…which is somewhat often right now)
3. Augmentin (for the sinuses)
4. Mucinex (also for the sinuses)
5. Flonase (to manage the allergies which could potentially be the cause of the sinus issues — we’re hoping that’s it because I’d rather not have surgery INSIDE MY NOSE)
6. Birth control (because the last thing I need to worry about right now is a baby)

That just seems…not right. There are so many chemicals running through my body, I’m eventually going to turn into a mutant, I think.

Ugh, I can’t even talk about it anymore. Send peanut butter cups. And tissues.

After ignoring The Sore Throat Of Death, Woe, and Fire for four days, I finally went to the doctor today. This is what I always do: wait until I’m basically at death’s door before scheduling an appointment (which, thanks to insurance, costs very little). What can I say? I’m busy. And stubborn.

After looking me over, diagnosing me with (yet another) sinus infection that went medieval on my ass, my doctor started asking about whether I’ve been taking care of myself, specifically whether I’m getting enough sleep and drinking enough water. I do neither of these things, and he knows this — we talk about it every time I come in, and every time he gently reminds me that I really need to make those a priority. Today, he tried a different approach:

“You are not a vampire OR a camel! You need to sleep and you need to drink water! It will cut the numbers of times you have to come in by half!”

As I was laughing at him, he wrote me a prescription for a Z-pack which, according to him is basically pointless now because it looks like the infection has pretty much run its course.

“Just hold on to that and use it for the next one. We both know it’s just a matter of time and this will save you the co-pay.”

I’ve been trying to make this place a bigger priority. Seriously! I had ideas! Things to share! Stuff to talk about!

And then this weekend happened.

See, Ross and I had been battling (and losing said battle) a cold for about a week. Luckily, as of press time, JR has yet to suffer from the same cold (although I’m SURE he brought it home from the germfest that is day care) but man, it sure was wreaking havoc with us.

And we were holding it together, trying to blame it on allergies, and generally being very positive.

Until Saturday. When I woke up mute. As in no voice. Nothing. Not a whisper.

You know what is hard to do when you can’t speak? Parent.

Parenting is made even harder when your parenting partner is down for the count.

And we did what any respectable adults would do in this situation. We called my mother.

Luckily, my mother is addicted to JR, so she zoomed over, scooped him up, and kept him overnight so we could recuperate properly.

Despite our unexpected child-free situation, we spent Saturday (the most beautiful day Richmond has had in, oh, EVER) cooped up inside, drowning in our own snot, trying to sleep, ordering pizza (you KNOW Ross was sick if he allowed such things), and watching such stunning cinematic contributions as Confessions of a Shopaholic. And I specifically spent the day not speaking. At all. Do you know how hard it is to boss your husband and dogs around without being able to talk?

We’re doing ok at this point. I still sound like I smoke 4 packs a day, and we both are still spending lots of time with the Neti pot. But, I’d say we’re on the up-and-up.

And I’d say that if JR actually does end up getting this, I will punch day care in the face.

It’s been a rough few days.

Last Wednesday JR started showing signs of a wicked case of the grumps. We assumed it was teeth (which wasn’t completely off), gave him some Motrin and went about our business.

The grumps continued steadily until Saturday evening. And then Saturday evening marked the beginning of a multi-day crying streak that has yet to cease.

The child is sick. SIIIIIIIIIICK. Sick in a way that has made up for the complete lack of sick we have experienced in the almost 15 months he’s been with us. Fever, cough, crying, runny nose, runny eyes (yes, babies can leak snot out of their eyes – I didn’t know that either and it’s just as horrifying as it sounds), crying, not wanting to eat, crying, only wanting to be held, crying, the works. He’s also waking up a couple times a night, shrieking for someone to wipe to boogers out of his eyes or suck the snot out of his head because, hello, he wakes up not being able to see or breathe.

(I told Ross that it’s all reminding me way too much of what life was like with a newborn. I hope this doesn’t ruin JR’s chances for ever getting a sibling. It’s possible.)

But what’s worse is that he is just not himself. There are no animal noises, no shouting of “THIS,” and not one single laugh. Not even a giggle. It’s depressing.

Meanwhile, I’ve become a mad woman. I haven’t left the house for more than two hours in six days. I can’t go to work. I can’t sleep because I lie awake anticipating the whimper from the next room. My work is so half-assed it’s ridiculous. And I’m being mean to everyone.

So, be patient with me (although I doubt I would be patient with you if we met in person because RAWR). I’ll be back soon.

This past Thursday I got home from work at around 3:30 to find a delightfully healthy boy toddling around the front yard with his lovely babysitter/our lovely friend. JR was all smiles and laughs, bright eyed and on the move.

About 90 minutes later his nose was a river of snot (green, the best kind) and his eyes were rimmed with that reddish-pinkish tone that calls out “FEVER.”

Sure enough, a quick poke of the thermometer indicated that his temperature was slightly above 100. We pumped him full of Motrin and put him to bed early.

(I make it seem as I was so calm during this episode, when in fact my inner monologue kept chanting, “It came on so quick! Doesn’t the flu/H1N1 (and, yes, my inner monologue often incorporates slashes) come on really quick? He’s only had the first dose of the flu shot! OH WOE!)

The poor little man was up off and on until about 1am, requiring the suckage of snot out of his head, which lead to much screaming and thrashing. Oh, parenthood.

He woke up Friday morning completely fever-free but with his face covered in crusted snot and his nose still dripping constantly. The day was full of whining, sneezing, shrieking at the site of the nasal aspirator, refusing to eat anything but bananas, and (blessedly) taking wicked-long naps.

By Sunday morning he was at about 80 percent. Come Sunday evening, he was basically his old self. But me? OH HO HO HO me, you ask? Well, it seems that as soon as the cold/flu-ish thing had run its course through his system, it jumped straight into mine. Add that sickness to the unthinkable injustice that I, personally, cannot sleep 16 hours a day, and you’ve got a very sick, very grumpy, very-stuffed-up-and-unable-to-correctly-pronounce-Ns young lady.

And it’s all his fault. How the hell am I supposed to resist kissing on a face like this, especially when he feels like poo and actually wants to cuddle for the first time in his life?

My doctor’s office called this morning and they’ve got me on “standby” to come in Sunday night to get this show on the road. So provided all the ladies in line ahead of me get their acts together, we should be meeting this kid sometime on Monday. If the ladies don’t hurry up and pop their kids out, we’ll check in on Monday and see what our options are.

Meanwhile, I just got back from a visit to my regular doctor during which he declared me a medical marvel for my ability to catch every upper respiratory infection known to man within a 4 week period. I have now been put on amoxicillin because it’s one of the few antibiotics that is unquestionably safe for pregnancy AND nursing. Although my doctor did say that it was kind of like trying to put out a house fire with a squirt gun. Can doctors fire patients? Because I feel like mine might be ready to do that to me.

I woke up at around 3am coughing my brains out in response to a very uncomfortable (and very familiar) tightness in my chest.

Yes, it seems that I might actually be sick AGAIN. But this time, I will not a wait a week to take care of it. I’ve already called me regular doctor and put in a request for him to call in another antibiotic. And I really hope he does it because the idea of dragging my hugely pregnant self down to his office and waiting an hour in the waiting room and another 45 minutes in the exam room for him to tell me I’m correct is not exactly what I want to deal with at the moment.

Oh and the coughing combined with the on and off contractions that come with being 38 1/2 weeks pregnant? Also awesome.

*UPDATE*

I didn’t have to go back in to see the doctor, but I did have to wait approximately 9 hours before actually getting someone to do what they said they were going to do. I will pick up some sort of hardcore antibiotic (that is prone to causing nausea and vomiting! yay!) shortly.

I’ve been sick for a week. Ross had this cold for all of two days, but I’ve spent the last 168 hours coughing, sneezing, blowing my nose, and dying.

I finally decided to give in and go to my regular doctor to see if there was anything he could do for me (this was of course after calling my OB to get a list of medications/antibiotics that are safe during pregnancy – my OB kindly reminded me that my regular doctor 1) would be able to tell I’m pregnant and 2) did, in fact, graduate from medical school, too.)

After waiting for an hour to get into the examination room, I finally saw the doctor. He confirmed that I have a sinus infection AND bronchitis (for some reason I must get both at the same time, always) and I really should have come in last week when I started to feel bad. He and I have this same conversation about three times a year.

He ended up giving me an antibiotic but not any kind of decongestant. The antibiotic will kick the infections, but the decongestants aren’t necessary and are more likely to have stuff in them that we’d rather not expose the baby to. Basically, I’ll feel better in a couple days but will experience no immediate relief.

So, this pretty much means I’ll have another night of waking up to cough pitifully, blow my nose, and sweat. Awesome.

(Yes, it’s true. You’re not supposed to have cold deli meat when you’re pregnant.)

Around 3pm yesterday afternoon, my throat started to get a little scratchy. By 10pm last night, it was burning. The culprit? A waterfall of congestion coming from my sinuses. That was a lovely picture, wasn’t it?

Last night was rough. There was much waking up to gargle with warm water and pound glasses of cold water. And general moping, let’s not forget that.

Turns out, it’s best to avoid over-the-counter antihistamines and decongestants while pregnant because there’s so much junk in them that could potentially hurt the baby.

So I guess it’s just me and my faux neti pot.

There is much moaning, whining, and lying around in my own filth happening over here. Will write soon.