On Sunday night, I stepped out of the shower to hear my daughter wailing in agony.  She was in her bed, hunched up in a ball, crying out about pain in her stomach.  She was short of breath and she could not move without worsening the pain.  She was red, hot to the touch, and her pulse was like the Grand Prix!  She said the pain was under her ribcage mainly on the right side, and without hesitation, I called an ambulance because the first thing I thought was "Holy shit it's her appendix".  Of course, I don't know crapola about appendixes, but when you see someone in that much pain you assume the worst and hope for the best. 

While waiting for the ambulance, I called Greg, so everyone arrived at the same time.  Bailey claimed the pain was beginning to ease up, but she was still miserable.  The EMT examined her and said she was not showing the signs of appendicitis, but that she had unusual sounds in her abdomen that indicated something, indeed was wrong.  Plus, she had a fever.  I remembered that, earlier in the day, Bailey had joked to me about a bad case of diahreah she'd had overnight, presumably from the entire bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos she'd eaten that day. 

Greg rode in the ambulance, Korbin stayed with the neighbors, and I followed behind.  Mind you, my kids have been sick before, injured themselves and made several trips to the ER for various issues in the past.  But I've never been so scared as I was that night.  I had never seen either of my children in that much pain and misery before, and the only thing I could think was someone at the hospital better make my child more comfortable; otherwise, I would personally make everyone there VERY uncomfortable. 

Fortunately, they were very good to her.  The excitement of her ambulance ride, the hospital gown with teddy bears all over it, and her personal TV with remote were a good distraction from her pain.  The nurse allowed Bailey to hold the tubes as they drew blood for tests, and the doctor was good natured and told her she did a "good job" peeing in a cup---that it was the "best urine sample we've gotten in a long time!"

It turns out that Bailey had a high white blood cell count, which indicated she had something going on her stomach/intestines.  The doctor said she had overly active bowel sounds, which told him that her stomach was very "pissed off".  LMAO.  After the x-ray showed that her digestive tract was full of nothing but gas and bloat, the doctor diagnosed her with gastroenteritis and informed us that Bailey would need to stay through the night for observation and IV hydration until things calmed down. 

Let's just say the IV part did not go well with Bailey. 

After a few bags of hydration and rest, the doctor said she could go home and remain on a liquid diet for 24 hours.  This, of course, was at 6:30 in the morning when they discharged her.  We brought her home, exhausted, and put her to bed.  Greg's chief told Greg he needed to be in to work, so Greg went without an ounce of sleep. 

This to me, is inhumane on the Navy's part.  How can they expect these instructors to train recruits if they are so tired they can't think straight?  The recruits are guaranteed at 8 hours of sleep per day....why aren't the instructors? 

I slept for a couple of hours, then it was off to the dentist at 9:00 for an evaluation for my tooth.  A few days ago, I bit down on a piece of chewing gum, I and I fucking swear the entire right side of my face exploded with pain.  After the initial pain subsided, I had this horrible dull throbbing pain in my jaw which would worsen everytime I sucked in a breath of air or drank something of any extreme temprature.  Assuming it was a cavity, I expected the dentist to do a filling during this appointment.  Of course, sleep deprived and experiencing dental anxiety, I was told there was nothing visibly wrong with my tooth.  So then the asshole dentist takes this metal stick looking thing and starts banging around my tooth.  He obviously found the area of concern when I jumped eight feet out of the chair. 

"You have a fractured tooth!", he says, like he just struck goddamn gold or something. 

He then declares to me that he no longer does root canals, and he also cannot see this fracture.  He then tells me I need to see a specialist who will find the fracture and either do the root canal or extract the tooth, depending on the severity. 

I'm so tired at this point I don't give a shit if he pulls all of my teeth so long as I can lie down somewhere and close my eyes.  He then starts talking to me about my insurance, and how they won't cover the whole thing; so a root canal may cost me between 300-500 bucks. 

Well, that woke me up.  Are you shitting me?  500 bucks to pull the nerve out of my fucking tooth? 

Needless to say, I was upset, tired, nervous and panicked about the financial situation.  I have been steadily putting extra money into our savings account because things have been really hard for us; and I planned to use that money for other things.  Not a little fuckin' tooth. 

When I got home, I called this specialist's office to schedule the appointment.  The guy's first name is Kermit. 

Kermit

I know. 

So I am headed to visit Kermit the Tooth Guy today at 11:30; and keeping my fingers crossed that he dosen't find anything worthy of drilling into immediately.  Either that, or I might run out of there screaming before he does anything at all.  Hell, I might run screaming as soon as I see him. 

I haven't decided yet. 

The only way to cope with this deep anxiety of Kermit is to focus on my crafts.  I finished an adorable little lapghan last night that will get sent to Gram for Christmas.  She's getting a crocheted bed doll, a doily (the one that was saved from the brink of death by coffee stain), and this little 'ghan as a matching set for her bedroom.  It's not a large ghan' but just enough to cover her lap or throw over a chair for decoration. 

And then I finally put the border around my Babette blanket, which has been sitting here for weeks, because it turned out ickish, and I don't care for it much.  The actual process of making it was fun, and I loved the adventure in color; but sewing up the squares--since they each are different---left the sewing seams visible and I don't like that.  It looks cheap.  I looked at other's projects on Ravelry, and they have the same issue, so I know I did it correctly; however I didn't see the point in going any further on a project I just don't care for.  So I eliminated sections 9 and 10 (which were large), and used a dc border to call it finished.  It's still quite large, very heavy and very warm. 

 

It was used with my scrap yarn....19 colors I think.  Since I enjoyed the process of creating it so much, I may do it again in a different colorway, maybe monochromatic or pastels.  But either way, it's finished!

I have one more strip to do on Greg's Mile A Minute afghan, and I have to say, in my opinion, it has come out beautifully and I hope he likes it when he opens it up on Christmas morning.  He has no idea I am making it for him, which is neat because he loves homemade gifts!  He always sees me working on other things, he probably feels like I don't remember to make him anything.  I'm so excited to give it to him, and I will post a pic as soon as it's finished. 

In the next couple of days I plan on starting a very ambitious project, and working on it exclusively.  Otherwise, I'll be working on it forever. 

Instead of the pictured colors, I am going to use baby pink for the roses, sage for the leaves, and white for the backround.  And I'm making it for ME, as a bedspread.  There are 70 blocks to this bad boy, and it's huge.  I'll be using Hobby Lobby's "I Love This Yarn" because it is so so so soft! I can't wait. 

The dogs are whining to go outside, so I must close!  I'll update as the story of my poor little tooth unfolds.