It was the school nurse. Apparently on the way to her class, Mackenzie got her finger slammed in the door. OK, I thought. Just put some ice on it. Nope. They wanted someone to come and take her to the urgent care center. I couldn’t reach my wife, so off I went.

After lots of waiting and paperwork, we finally went back. Let me just say that urgent care doctors are worthless. They are usually at the bottom of their profession, like public defenders are at the bottom of the legal profession or how the Geek Squad is at the bottom of the IT profession. Mackenzie had some x-rays and the doctor told us all was well and just to put ice on it. What a relief!

By that time, she had missed her normal lunch period at school so I took her out for a happy meal and some ice cream. For some reason, chemically enhanced food and high fructose corn syrup tends to make children happy. We were nearly back at the school (and 30 minutes from the urgent care center) when the doctor called and told us that the radiologist had just looked at her scans and to return immediately. I’m not sure why the radiologist would read scans of discharged patients, unless it is simply a way to bill us for more services.

When we returned, a nurse put a temporary splint on Mackenzie’s finger and informed us that we had an appointment the next morning with an orthopaedic hand specialist due to a crack in the bone.

This morning, we saw the doctor and were told that because of her age, she should get a cast. She was a little nervous, so I showed her a picture of her friend Savannah who recently got a cast and that eased her nervousness a bit.  She was completely fine when she found out that she would be able to choose a color and she even started acting silly.

After deciding on pink, and then pink and purple, she finally went with a Christmas cast.  It’s the most expensive Christmas decoration we’ve ever bought.

She will get it off a few days before Christmas, followed by more x-rays.  Then we will go from there.

Never a dull moment in our house!

It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve had a checkup.  When I was 10 or 11, my mother decided that it just wasn’t worth the battle. (I literally fought the doctors).  I had my final immunizations and bid the pediatrician farewell.

My co-workers were in similar situations.  Our health insurance covers yearly well visits at no charge so we decided to go.  They visited their respected doctors in late 2009.  Now it is my turn to live up to my end of the bargain.

Did I mention I’m scared? I am petrified.

I’m totally clueless when it comes to medical stuff.  It’s probably a good thing that I’m not having any problems, because I don’t even know how to swallow a pill.  I’ve never swallowed one before.  In fact, the only non-liquid medicine that I have ever had was a hydrocodone pill chopped up in rocky road ice cream after my wisdom teeth extraction.

I don’t even know what to expect at a routine check-up.  I tried google, but it seems that everyone has different experiences.  I’m also scared of needles.  The last time I had blood drawn, was for the pre-marital blood test.  I passed out cold. On the floor.  They almost called an ambulance.  They brought me a green lollipop thinking it was a sugar issue.  I don’t even like green lollipops.  Let’s hope I don’t repeat that episode tomorrow.

So basically, I’m scared of doctors, I’ve never taken medicine, I don’t do well with needles, and did I mention that I’m extremely modest?  Why did I sign up for this?  Is (hopefully having a) long life worth all of this?

It’s going to take at least a ten mile run in the morning to alleviate this anxiety.

Last Labor Day weekend, while I was running the Labor Day Road Race, a coworker/friend was on a trip to Birmingham.  Her son Joshua, one of Tristan’s friends, became ill and was taken to a local emergency room.  To make a long story short, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  It’s difficult for me because he is Tristan’s age. 

I’ve wrote about Joshua before here and here.  You can also read more about him here.

On Friday, he died at the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit at the Medical Center’s Children’s Hospital.  I visited them Wednesday and he wasn’t doing very well.  I have to say that the PICU is one of the most horrible places that I’ve ever been.  Each room has huge glass windows into the hall, so everywhere you look, you see children suffering.  I hope I never have a reason to go there again.

Joshua’s mother is the only person that I work with who has a child the same age as Tristan, so for the last four years we have chatted about the crazy things that our little boys have done.

Every night for the better part of a year, Tristan has asked God to “help Joshua feel better” as part of his nightly prayers.  Friday night, I talked to him and told him he didn’t have to say that anymore because Joshua was in heaven.  When my mother died last year, Tristan didn’t fully understand everything that was happening, but going through that experience helped him understand the end of life on earth.  So when I told him about Joshua, he grieved for the first time.  That was difficult for both me and Kimberlie.

Tomorrow, I will go somewhere that I’ve never been to before and somewhere that I hope I never have to go to again — to a child’s funeral.

If that’s not enough, for some reason Kimberlie’s right foot is all swelled up and is causing her lots of pain and discomfort.  Tonight we gave in and took her up to Houston Health Care’s urgent care place.  The doctor tonight was worthless (and we better get used to it if Obama becomes president).  He did x-rays, which were fine, but couldn’t think of a single reason that her foot would be swollen and painful.  Basically threw his hands up and said “I don’t know” — and still charged us an arm and a leg.  Perhaps he should use the WebMD Symptom Checker, because they gave me 20 possibilities.

I have spent about 4 hours in medical facilities in the past 2 days and have spent a ton of money on prescriptions and healthcare.  Here’s the ironic part: I haven’t been to a doctor since I got my 14 year old immunizations — that’s 15 years!  And I’ve never even swallowed a pill in my life.