So.

I gave up and went back to the doc--yet again--yesterday.  I saw the same PA who diagnosed my pneumonia almost 3 weeks ago.

I explained my symptoms: persistent, nasty, nagging, horrible cough that was keeping me up at night, making me cough so hard I would literally be sick, and the re-emergence of two troubling symptoms: a low-grade fever and back pain.

I panic about persistent back pain these days.  Mostly, ever since I got diagnosed with pneumonia in March of 2010 and discovered that my "pulled muscle" from what I thought was the stomach flu was really pleurisy: a painful inflammation of the protective pleura that surrounds the lungs, where the pneumonia had reached so deep into the lung (which lacks nerves) that the infection pushed against the pleura (which makes up for all the nerves the lungs don't have, and in spades).  That can be some severe pain, and I have absolutely ZERO desire to experience it again.  And since the back pain remained at the same general level throughout the day yesterday, and didn't unkink itself, I didn't think I could chalk it up to sleeping not-quite-right.

I was worried the pneumonia had reasserted itself.

Would not happen, the PA said.  "You've had enough antibiotics to kill a horse."  (If you're interested, that's 400mg of Avelox once a day for two full weeks.  Your new fact of the day.)

Yeahwell.  March 2010's pneumonia misadventures landed me in the hospital for six days (five of which were in the PCU, the ICU step-down unit) and on FOUR different antibiotics by the time all was said and done: Zithromax in a doubled course to finish out the prescription I'd been given two days before (pathetic though it was in its effects); IV Avelox, Vancomycin and Rocephin; and another two weeks of Avelox in pill form once I got off the IV stuff.

Don't mind me if I'm a bit paranoid.

He said I was almost to the point of needing steroids for the cough...almost.  Since I wasn't wheezing, I didn't need them.  However, he planned to aggressively treat the cough.  If I thought the cough syrup with codeine tasted bad, the new stuff he prescribed would taste worse.  He advised me to try to not take it more than the twice a day he wrote the script for, since it had Vicodin in it.  (Yee-haw.)  And then he put me on the same prescription Mom always gets for cough, Tessalon Pearls.

I realize I'm only one day into the new med treatment, but my back is even more sore today, and coughing tonight just rips through the muscles with screaming pain.

I don't like that at all.

I believe I'll be calling the doctor's office tomorrow and leaving a message for my PCP.

On the plus side, I managed to get through today, which has been my big goal, juuuuuuuuuust in case this gets worse and I need more medical help than just prescriptions.

Because, you see, today the twin Fries turned five.  This was a Big Deal.  Small Fry burst into our room this morning, fairly quivering with glee.  "Daddy, awre we five?  Is it our birfday?"  Happy shrieks abounded when Hubby confirmed that this was indeed their birthday.

The much-beloved Gramma and Boppa came out for a quick, abbreviated party (Boppa had NCCSE choir rehearsal to get to), and so we had cake and presents, Boppa bid us all a fond farewell, and then Gramma went out to dinner with us at a restaurant of the twins' choosing.  They chose a favorite spot, the GV Diner, and most of the waitresses there know us by sight and are just in love with the Fries.  Thus, they were very disappointed to find out about our reason for celebration only as we were leaving.

It's been a good day.

Medium and Small are five and loving it.

I can hardly believe they're five already.

I'll post pictures later, after I have a chance to catch my breath!

Saturday Morning

My dad related this conversation from Saturday morning...

Small Fry: What awre you doing?

Boppa: Getting ready to shave.

Small: Does dat huwrt?

Boppa: No, this is just shaving cream.

Small: Shaving cweem?

Boppa: Yep. See?  Look it’s green, but it turns white.  Isn’t that interesting?

Small: Yes. Dat’s inteh…westing.

Boppa: But it doesn’t hurt.  Sometimes I hurt myself with this (producing razor) if I’m not careful.  See the little blades?

Small: Sometimes I get huhwrt when I touch it.  I get a band-aid.

Boppa: Oh. Did you touch Uncle D’s?

Small: Yes.

Boppa: But I bet you were told not to.

Small: I haf to take my baby to da doctewr’s. [EXIT.]

I told Dad that I found his description of her sudden subject change and immediate exit hilarious, and he said that it happened exactly like that.  Small is the queen of verbal misdirection attempts when she thinks she'll get in trouble, so it didn't surprise me.

And, yes, she's been told not to touch razors.

Contemplations in Color

While we haven't yet closed on our house, we do have a key and have access to it so that we can start moving boxes over.  We won't officially take residence until after we close, but we can at least start clearing out the clutter of packed boxes from the house we're still renting.

The sellers are apparently quite fond of deep, rich reds (some of which border on maroon) and lighter greens.  Those colors are everywhere in this house.

Some of them, like the yellow walls and light green cupboards in the kitchen, I can live with for awhile.  Like, say, until my sister and brother-in-law come back to the States after the new year, and BIL needs work to do while they're here (anywhere from six weeks to three months).  He can come in and help us repaint the kitchen.

The girls' rooms are already perfectly painted for them.  Large Fry's room has two pale yellow walls, and the other two walls are painted like a blue sky with wispy white clouds and grass down near the floor.  That's perfect for her princess room.  The twins' room is done in shades of light pink and pale purple, with bees and flowers painted on the closet door.  Also perfect for the cheery pink Winnie-the-Pooh decor I have for their room.

Our room...it's a weird shade of slate green.  I think.  Weird.  And...well...to be perfectly honest...a weird ugly shade of green.  With a slightly lighter accent shade on the trim.

Yuuuuuuuck.

So now I have to decide...what sort of color do I want for my bedroom?

I'm thinking a nice cream color.  But that leaves me with a dilemma.  What kind of accent color to use for the trim?  I have no idea if we'll keep the same kind of color scheme that we have now, or if we'll change it, and...well...I just don't know!

Decisions, decisions....

Oh, Of Course.

It wouldn't be a holiday without a suddenly sick kid, right?

It could have been one of my cousin's kids, but this time around, we won the sick-kid lottery.

Small Fry woke a little after midnight last night, complaining that her left ear hurt.  Hubby got her back to sleep, but about twenty minutes later, she was awake again with ear pain.  I sent Hubby upstairs to see if Mom had any  children's acetaminophen or ibuprofen.  He couldn't find any, but Small didn't seem feverish, and by then, she had almost gotten back to sleep on my lap.  Hubby took her into the sofa bed with him while I settled into the recliner (I still have a nasty cough from my recent pneumonia, and so I couldn't sleep laying down on the sofa bed).

All that changed at 6 this morning, when Small woke up crying that she was going to throw up and I discovered she was burning up.  I ran upstairs for Mom's thermometer, and found that Small's fever was nearly 101.  Hubby had awakened me to help with Small's nausea and went back to sleep; I woke him then with the news of Small's fever and he went upstairs to again see if he could find something.  He apparently woke Mom, who found the children's fever reducer.

It was obvious that Small and I would not be going out to breakfast with the rest of the fam.

My poor baby.

I know she doesn't feel well.

I'm guessing we'll get to go to Urgent Care this afternoon.

Small is curled up on Boppa's recliner, with Boppa's fleecy leaf blanket, her piggy Pillow Pet, and a stainless steel just-in-case bowl.

I managed to get her to take some more medicine about an hour ago.  But she doesn't really want to do much of anything other than lay on the recliner and watch Disney's Beauty and the Beast.


Yep, lucked out on that one.

Gobble Gobble

We drove out to Gramma and Boppa's last night to spend the holiday with my family.

We have so much to be thankful for...

Great kids.

Extended family that we actually enjoy getting together with.

Modern medicine.

Even the coughing fit that woke me in the wee hours of the morning...which reminded me I'm still alive (although I was having my doubts).

Duckies and Pillow Pets and wonderful friends and kitties and a new house and missing teeth and piggies and sneakers and fun socks and memories and the list goes on.

Lord, for all that you have blessed us with, and for the blessings yet to come, we are truly thankful.

♫ Twenny-fowah-sebben, watchin' ovewr you! ♪

We've been trying to teach the kids that, when we're in conversation with other adults, they need to address us by name and ask, "Can I have your attention?" rather than chanting the desired adult's name ad nauseum until said adult responds.  (Usually with an aggravated, "What?!")

I told you that to tell you this story.


Hubby was telling me about his morning commute up to work and the twins' preschool today, and I laughed so hard I triggered a huge coughing fit (no doubt, not helped by my Sonic pumpkin pie milkshake *sob*)

The Fries are singing along with their Pandamania cd from this summer's VBS.  It's one of their favorite songs, "God is Watching Over You."

Medium Fry:  Daddy, God is watching over you!

Hubby:  I know that.

Medium:  How do you know?

Hubby:  God wants to protect us.

Medium:  God is watching over me?

Hubby:  Yes, He's watching over you and protecting you, too.

Medium: How do you know?

Hubby:  Well, because He protects you, that's probably why you came to live with us.  It was probably His idea.

Medium:  His idea?

Hubby:  Yeah.

Medium:  I wanna ask Him.

Hubby:  Well, go ahead.

Medium [loudly]:  God, can I have youwr attenshun?   ...  He said yes ...  God, was it your idea for me to come live wif Mommy and Daddy? ... He said yes ... Okay!  Thank you!  Amen!

Small Fry: I wanna pway!

She then proceeds to mumble, and so Hubby can't hear most of what she's saying.  However, as he pointed out, Small isn't talking to him.  He hears enough to recognize that Medium is helping her out as she prays.

Small Fry:  Amen!

Hubby  [now in line at the McD's drive thru]: I'm gonna pray now.

He prays for all three girls, that they'll have a good and fun day in school.  He prays for me, that I'll get all my payroll insanity finished (holiday weeks really mess up my schedule).  He closes with the standard "Amen," and then gets his food.

A quiet couple of minutes passes, in which Hubby is totally unsuspecting.

Small Fry:  Daddy?

Silly Hubby.

Hubby:  What?

Small [parentally]:  Do you need to say something?

Hubby [thinking]:  Say what?  [aloud]  I love you...

Small [cheerfully]:  I love you too.  [parentally again]  Do you need to say something else?

Hubby [thinking]:  Oh, this could be a long game...do I play along or just ask?  Um, just ask.  [aloud]  Well, what would you like me to tell you?

Small:  No, something you need to say to God!

Hubby:  What would you like me to tell God?

Small:  You fohwrgot to pway for the new house!

So Hubby dutifully prays about our new house, thanking God that we were able to get it.

Small:  Dat's bettewr.

And then, Hubby realizes...his prayer was just critiqued by an almost-five-year-old.

"Mommy! Lawrge Fwy has blood!"

This is not what you want to hear your almost-five-year-old shout from the toy room.  And it immediately grabs my attention.

"What do you mean, she has blood? Where?"  As Large Fry comes into the living room, I see she's holding a tissue near her face that's got several bright red spots.

"Probably her mouth," Hubby opines.  "I just told her to take that thing out of her mouth."

"What thing?"  I snagged the hand holding the tissue and pulled it down, which had the miraculous effect of opening her mouth...which was, indeed, the location of the blood.

"That bracelet."

Ah.  The rubber bracelet she'd gotten at school today for being a "pillar of character."  (Took some deciphering on my part to realize that's what she was saying when I first saw the bracelet about five minutes before.)

"She had it in her mouth, and I told her to get it out, and she just yanked it like this."  Hubby demonstrated.

I peer into Large's mouth, and sure enough...her yanking the bracelet out has yanked out an only slightly-wiggly tooth, right next to the one that came out a week ago.

"Was it even loose?" Hubby asked Large, as I'm trying to use the tissue (now pretty damp) to apply pressure and stop the bleeding.

Large nodded as best she could.

So...now we have another tooth gone--"I have nightmares about that," Hubby said--and we don't know where it is.

And we don't have any dollar coins, either.

But then, the Tooth Fairy doesn't come if you don't actually have the tooth, right?