Here's to you, Cigna

Monday:

Eve accompanies Natalie to the doctor because Nat has a cough and a cRaZy-looking bug bite. She has also had a fever, which we don't know whether it is related to the cough or bite. Eve does her best to let everyone know she doesn't respect me as a mother as she flits around the exam room like a hyperactive, ritalin-deprived child on Fun Dip.

The verdict? Pneumonia. And MRSA. Niiice. Prescription: Zithromax for the pneumonia, Septra for the MRSA. The kicker? Just let go of that industrial-sized bottle of Septra that Eve had been taking for a year. Damn. That stuff is like a $4 co-pay!

Tuesday:

Natalie spends most of the day in a hot bath as we try to encourage this MRSA-infected abscess to drain. Have you ever seen one of these things drain? Imagine a zit...on a larger-than-average giant.

Wednesday:

I take Natalie back to the pediatrician, this time with Daniel in tow. The "thing" has stopped draining and superficially looks better, but upon closer inspection, it is just growing underneath the skin. It measures 6x4 cm.

Oh, and Daniel has pneumonia.

Thursday:

Matt takes Nat to Wake Med to meet with a pediatric surgeon about the oozy thing. He schedules surgery later that day, while I return to the pediatrician with Eve and Dan. Because I just can't get enough of that place, and I feel like Cigna is going to call and check up on me if I don't.

Eve does not have pneumonia...yet. I'm sure she's saving that for Friday at 5:00.

We leave the pediatrician and drive out to the hospital, where I throughly confuse myself and end up in the completely wrong building. I told someone I was trying to get to the PICU, and they must have thought I said NICU, because I ended up in the middle of a waiting room with a lot of pregnant women who weren't really pregnant but, you know how it is right after you have a baby and you just want to punch whoever asks you how far along you are.

Once we wound up in the correct buildling, Daniel, Eve, and I played with a kiddie computer much like the one in the hem-onc clinic waiting room at Duke, with the exception that this one actually worked. I probably could have sat there all night manipulating that pixelated monkey to play those bongos. It was the most relaxing part of my day.

Eventually, Matt came out and we switched places. Nat was coming down off of some ketamine and was loopy. She told me she was tired of Daddy, because she had been with him all day and she dreamt he turned into an alien. Then she revealed she really still thought he was an alien even after she woke up, but she wasn't sure if that was true because she thought she might still be dreaming.

Then she pulled my face close to hers and whispered, "Get me out of here."

So we left.

Natalie said, "I hope Dr. Phillips doesn't find cancer in my bump; I don't need to get a port right now."

Friday:

???