What a day...

Holy Schmokes. This is one of those days you really don't want to live over and over again when caught in a time trap like Bill Murray in Ground Hog day. Started out the day feeling pretty good and ready for the challenges I knew were ahead. We, and when I say "we" I mean "I" but we sounds like I had support but really didn't, took my oldest son, Coty, to the doctor to finish up on some of his paperwork to go on a mission for our church. He needed his first hepatits shot and I was hoping to get his TB test. He also needed a blood test to find out his type and something about hemoglobin, but I wasn't sure if they would do that without a doctors visit. We got signed in and waited for 45 minutes, while I made light conversation with my son who was a "little" apprehensive about his shot. I talked basketball, Disney World rides and anything else I could think of that he would respond to. Ahhh, our name is called. I figure get in, get the shot and get out. HAH! He got his hepatitis shot and got a little pastey and whoozy. I wanted to tell him to man up but didn't think that would go over to well with the nurse who had a cool fan blowing in his face and wanted to bring him cute little cups of cold water. I had told him the TB test was just a scratch on the skin (how do I know, I never had one before). Yeah, they basically give you another shot. He threw me a few scowly looks right before he go the shot and his face went all pink. I then tell the nurse that we really could use these other two things (point to hemoglobin and blood type). She was nice enough to fill out another chart and sends us out to wait in the waiting room. Coty thinks we are done and just waiting for clearance to leave. They call our name about 15 minutes later and escort us back to a cubical. He is then ushered into a soft chair that leans back. He then throws me a look of panic as he realizes something else is going on. He keeps checking out the tray to see what it is on it and sees the needle and two vials that will be filled with blood. I told him to look some place else as it won't help. So they took to vials of blood and then we sat there for another 15 minutes while he recovered from the trauma. It is hard when you have given birth 4 times to see people get so skittish with a few shots and a little blood taken. But he is recovering beautifully and I do appreciate he didn't kick me or call me any names after this whole episode. Thank goodness we are done....until his next hepatitis shot.

Took Coty home to rest and picked up the dog. She is suffering from a low thyroid, or so we figured with all the shedding she was doing and the fact she couldn't lose weight. I had already taken her in once for a blood draw and we needed a second one to see if the medication was working. You have to know our dog is a bit fisky. She is also 80+ pounds. Even if I take her for a walk 45 minutes before the vet visit she starts freaking out. I always check in then wait outside until they come and get us, because she is bouncing off the walls. We get in and try to check her weight while moving around like a tazmanian devil on a string. Then we get ushered, rather quickly, to another room. The vet and his larger nurse come in. We back Lucky into a corner and the assistant and myself basically wrap our bodies around Lucky trying to hold her place as the vet finds a vein and draws blood. I always think they should charge me for the blood draw AND the cardio workout I get while trying to hold our dog down. Thank goodness our vet is quick and gets the blood he needs. Lucky has her eyes rolled back into her head and is panting heavily, in my face. But we all make it out alive. I run Lucky out and put her in the truck so I can go back in a visit. There is the cutest little old lady waiting to pay. They bring her dog out in a small crate. Not a sound is coming from the crate as the vet assistant offers to carry it to the car. The little old lady says she must drap a towel over the top so her dog doesn't get stressed out. I am thinking... man I want one of those, the dog not the crate or the towel. I am imagining me dragging a large crate with an 80+ pound dog into the office. Oh well, we love her, well most of the time. Maybe not the time she slipped off her collar while in the vets office and made all of us chase her until we could get the collar back on, or the time she pooped on the vets floor. Or all the times she runs up to the grade school to play with the children when she escapes our home. But mostly we do.

As I was driving home, the snow began to fall. What a fitting ending to my lovely day.

I would have added pictures but at no point during any of these ordeals was I in a position to do so. So just close your eyes and use your imagination :)

1 comment:

The Butler Bunch said...

That's hilarious. I love how descriptive you are. I can so relate to both stories. My dog always freaks out at the vet, and he's huge. And, I don't know what the deal is, but my big ole teen-age boys are complete pansies when it comes to stuff like shots. I tell them that too. (always trying to build that self-esteem). It sounds like that was quite a day. Thanks for sharing it!