The weekend has mercifully come to an end.
The highlight occurred Saturday night, when we all spent some quality time with one another at the local Urgent Care Facility. Jensen, it seems, is HIGHLY allergic to Tilapia.
You know, that mild white fish, which really isn’t all that fishy, and does not come in a package all loaded up with seasonings, hormones, and other pesky additives that could exacerbate his allergies.
And if you cook it in just a bit of olive oil, salt, and pepper, you’d think you’d be pretty safe. Right? I mean, I’ve nearly gone completely blind reading every ingredients list on the grocer’s shelf and when the ingredient is simply: “Tilapia”, I thought to myself, “WOO HOO, I’m safe with this one!”
But no. He started scratching his hands until they would have bled unless I wrestled him to the floor, holding his legs in a scissors hold, while I clung to each wrist. And at the same time, I dialed his father’s cell phone to tell him, “HELP! Come home from church as fast as you can.” And who knew I could dial the phone with my nose?
Then, I noticed the welts appearing underneath Jensen’s skin all over his little body, while he screamed so loud my ears began to bleed. The Benadryl that was administered did NOTHING to ease his pain.
Meanwhile, back in the dining room, I hear from Cailey, “MOM, CAN I HAVE A DESSERT?”
Holy mother of all that is good.
Fiddledaddy made it home in lightening fast speed, and we all loaded up into the van. It was “come as you are” night at the Urgent Care, and I fit right in. I sported a stained tank top (which, in my opinion, no one over the age of 40 ought to wear, especially me), sweats, and my hair looked as though I used a hand mixer to style it.
I wouldn’t have gone to the mailbox looking like that.
But, that was the least of my worries. In fact, I didn’t even consider my appearance until we all safely arrived back home, and I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. Humbling. To be sure.
The doctor agreed that it was indeed a severe reaction, and gave us a prescription for Prednisone. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have asked for a little something for myself. Something sedative, in nature.
Jensen was much better when we put him to bed. And by Sunday, he was back to his boisterous self. A little scarred perhaps, but much better.
I, on the other hand, had a headache from not having eaten the night before, and considered taking the meat tenderizer to my head, thusly putting me out of my misery.
It is Sunday night, here in the House of Fiddle. My headache has dulled, thanks to more than the recommended daily allowance of Extra Strength Excendrin. And all is quiet. Next week, we’ll likely be taking Jensen to have blood work done, to get a better idea about his food allergies. Jensen’s never had blood drawn before. That should make for an interesting appointment. I have a feeling that everyone in that room will be forever changed.
I won’t forget to ask for a little medication for the mommy. There isn’t a medical professional in the world that would deny me. I’m certain.
Post thought: You know, this is all put into perspective for me when I realize that this is nothing compared to what Heather and her family are going through with little Emma. I’m keeping them in my prayers.
Have a wonderful week everyone!