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A little medical knowledge

I took my son (he of painful injury fame) to the doctor yesterday. I knew he had strep throat. After four kids and numerous hospital visits, doctor visits and ER fun, I know things. The professional medical community doesn't like it when you 'know things'. A parent with knowledge of medical procedures, medicines and practices makes the doctors more than a bit nervous. It perturbs them. They like to be the ones dispensing their wisdom and making the decisions.

When my third child had her finger smashed open after dropping a weight upon it, we spent some quality time in the ER. I asked that they give her some versed. Versed is in a class of chemicals called benzodiazepines which are all sedatives, hypnotics and/or muscle relaxants. Another benzodiazepine is Xanax. I wanted her to have this medication so she wouldn't remember the pain she was about to endure. She'd broken her finger and sliced it open so far that it needed stitches.

I was haughtily informed that if they gave her versed they'd have to monitor her breathing and heart rate. I smiled sweetly and told them that yes, I knew that and I wanted it anyway. They told me this would prolong our time in the ER because she'd have to be monitored longer. I again smiled and told them no problem, I didn't have any pressing appointments that day. They finally asquiesced.

It's a good thing I insisted as the stitching up of the finger did not go well. They really shouldn't have attempted it in the first place as her finger was so swollen. The stitches pulled right out. It wasn't pretty.

Anyway, I took my son in to get some medication for his strep throat. I told them he had strep throat. I asked that they do a quick strep test. He has it. They gave him a big ole shot of penicillin in the butt. He was not pleased I was in the room when he was asked to pull his pants down. I smiled sweetly at him and said I'd stand by his head so I wouldn't see anything.

Mother's lament: I used to change your diapers!!! What do you mean I can't see your butt!!!


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Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
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I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
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And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
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Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
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