2 and a half

Vicodin

Seeing as how I'm taking hydrocodone (vicodin) for my rotator cuff injury, I got to thinking about how a kid handles hydrocodone in their system. This video pretty much answers that question - I'm still in some pain, but I assure you that this kid, who is on his way home from dental surgery, isn't.  

RCIS

I've been experiencing severe pain in my right shoulder since last weekend. The aching lasts all day, keeps me up at night, has drastically limited my arm movement, and has rendered me barely able to do things as simple as putting on a shirt or reaching for the stereo knob in my car. 

I finally went to see the doc today and he says I have rotator cuff impingement syndrome, or RCIS. In other words, I have inflamed rotator cuff muscles. And since there is so little room in the shoulder for those muscles to expand, the swelling is exerting pressure on the local nerves, muscles, tendons and blood vessels.

How did this happen? The only culprits I can point to are (i) mowing the lawn on Saturday and (ii) carrying Grace around all weekend because she was sick and insisted on being held practically every moment she wasn't napping.

Pathetic, isn't it? Mowing the lawn... I told the doc I stopped and then pull-started the mower at least 20 times because I was monitoring Audrey and Barry the entire time and had to frequently digress from my task. That may have done it I suppose - you've got to pull the cord pretty hard to get the engine going. I should have invested a few more dollars into getting that button-start mower I guess.

And if that did it, consistently holding Grace in my right arm probably exacerbated the problem. She is 25 or so pounds now, after all.

I can't think of anything else that might have done it. No ski or bike accidents. I didn't do a face plant while jogging. I haven't golfed recently enough for that to have caused it. All of which means I am officially old.

The doc did say that healthy people my age don't typically get rotator cuff tears, only RCIS, and that's the good news I guess because a tear would require surgery. But nonetheless I'll be doing some physical therapy, won't be able to hold my girls as much, won't be able to water ski for at least several weeks, and will otherwise be partially incapacitated. I am even wincing occasionally as I sit here typing this.

On the bright side, it could be worse. Much worse. I am still a husband to a lovely wife and a father to two wonderful little girls. And I have prescription for pain killers.

Trials and tribulations

Yesterday Grace got more shots. Audrey escaped this time around but was put on medication for a persistent cough she's had. As before, they got Slurpees afterward - Grace for her suffering and Audrey for her moral support.

Poor Audrey, though, threw up later that afternoon - perhaps because of the medicine but I'm not sure. So we had her laid up on the couch for the evening and fed her Saltines to settle things down.

And this morning, my wife told me about how some older boys have been throwing sand and otherwise causing trouble for Audrey and her friend Eve during preschool recess.  

When your kids are in pain or get sick it or have trouble at school it might as well be you because you feel it the same as they do - the difference is you have to deal with it differently. Instead of crying in pain, you comfort them. Instead of complaining that you don't feel good either, you figure out ways to make them better. And instead of smacking the older kids across the head, you tell your kids you're proud of how they dealt with it in a calm and mature way.

I still may reconsider that last part though - those playground kids better watch it.

The dentist

Monday was family dentist day. 

It's not like we planned it though - it just happened that way. Mine was supposed to be last week but anyone who has gone to the dentist knows that they schedule you for your next appointment six months ahead of time and write it down on a little card, expecting you to keep that card handy for the next six months. 

It's an interesting and fairly ineffective system. I probably lost my card or more likely tossed it the moment I walked out of the place. Anyway, I completely forgot about the appointment despite the fact that they even called the day before because, well, they called the wrong phone number.

But when they *did* track me down (the receptionist, Molly, wondered if something bad had happened to me), we scheduled a new appointment which, by coincidence, was on the same day and right after the appointments my wife had booked for her and Audrey.

My wife was getting her checkup when I showed up so I kept Audrey entertained in the waiting room. Suzanne came out 10 minutes later and whispered that Audrey might have a CAVITY... My heart sank. The thought of Audrey getting a novocaine shot and then having her tooth drilled sounded horrible. 

It made me think back to when Audrey was younger and the doctor had to draw some blood. The nurse was really slow and couldn't find Audrey's vein so stabbed her once unnecessarily and throughout the entire process Audrey cried like I've never heard her cry and was so exhausted when it was over that she fell asleep in my arms as we walked out. Naturally she got a new playset from Daddy after that went down.

What if Audrey had a cavity though? It would very well be more traumatic for me and Suzanne than it would be for her. But it made no sense. She brushed her teeth every single day with her Oral-B Cinderella Battery Toothbrush. And she always rinsed with her bubble gum-flavored ACT Kids Anti-Cavity Fluoride Mouthwash. Had her affinity for sweets still gotten the best of her?

I worried about this until halfway through my own appointment when, in a moment when I didn't have a bunch of metal dental tools exploring my mouth, I asked if the dentist knew if Audrey did, in fact, have a cavity. 

To my relief she said "no" - they determined it was just a stain. That made me so happy. Drill away on my mouth, I thought, but leave my daughter alone.

The inevitability of it, though, is that she and Grace will both get a cavity eventually, particularly if they have porous teeth like mine. I have so many fillings I don't know what to do with them all and I do take care of my teeth. It's just one of those things. Plus I had braces (twice!) and rubber bands and an expander and a retainer and sealants and my wisdom teeth pulled and a root canal once so I am no stranger to dentists and orthodontists. My kids may have the same destiny unfortunately, but hopefully not until they are older.

The outcome of my appointment? Two small cavities, of course, plus another area they are going to "keep an eye on," whatever that means. 

So, back to the dentist on Friday, unfortunately, for my fillings. I told Audrey what they are going to do and, while she told me it sounds "scary," she's very interested to hear how it goes. 

Baby metrics

At her last pediatrician appointment, Grace weighed 13 pounds, up from the 10 pounds at her prior appointment. (Putting her on that metal scale with a piece of paper underneath her always conjures up images of being at the supermarket deli - can't they come up with a more civil way to do it?) The doctor was impressed with her weight gain, suggesting that we have a very good eater on our hands. We all stood around that little room and quietly cheered Grace's achievement.

Then we measured Grace's height, except they still call it length when you're 2 months old. She had gained an inch or so and came in around 21" as I recall. I'm not sure when you get to start referring to your length as your height, although I do know if one walked around telling people he is 72" long that others would look either puzzled, offended, surprised or impressed.

Grace's head came next. I can't recall the stat off hand but babies her age tend to have heads that measure 14" - 16" or so in circumference. Naturally a parent wants to be at the high end of this range since head circumference provides clues about brain development. The bigger the head, the smarter the kid. (That's not the way it works, of course, but if you're a parent it's hard not to think that way.)

Then comes all the talk about how well the baby is pooping and peeing and other physical goings-on that allow the doc to profess to you whether your kid is functioning normally. Fortunately for Grace, all systems were a-go. I recounted for the doc how, when I had been changing her diaper that morning in fact, Grace decided it was a fine time to go to the bathroom, and showed the doc my soiled shirt to prove it. (Somehow, when it's your kid, none of that stuff bothers you.) Her bowels seemed to be functioning just fine, I said.

Then we all gathered around the counter for the finale. The doc was pulling out the growth chart - time to see how Grace stacked up against her peers. (If you've never seen one of these charts, there are a bunch of lines that look like logarithmic curves (lopsided rainbows, to the layman) that indicate the percentiles for weight, length and head circumference across different ages. Grace, being the high achiever that she is, was north of the 85th percentile in all her respective categories.

The doc concluded that Grace was healthy and handed us a sheet of paper that had Grace's latest stats on it. It all indicated she was normal, but we left the office feeling like she had just won a blue ribbon. And Audrey, who was tagging along for the ride and probably bored the whole time, got 2 stickers to take home, which made her happy. (One sticker wouldn't have done it.)

I guess it's all about metrics.

--

Other blogs that mention this post:

January 7, 2009 edition of Carnival of Baby Humor, in which Baby Metrics wins 1st place!

Motherwise Cracks