Day 16: The Cheater Post

We have a stomach bug in the house!  Holler!

Life is fun.  But the good news with vomit, and yes, there apparently can be good news with vomit, is that you can ditch school plans out the window and let the sickies watch movies and the like.

And since I had a “day off” from the joys of the homeschool, I decided to try and tackle the ever-present problem that is my blog.

Oh, yes.  My blog.  Huge problem.  Needs to be transferred.  And I am an idiot.

You can see the quandary.

So, I have nothing of interest to say, as I have been transferring and exporting and importing and all sorts of good-times-fun-happiness.

But I did come across this post and decided it would be a BLESSING if I could just repost it.

(Do you see what I did just there?  I am being LAZY, but I am trying to pretend like I figured out a way to post today.)

(Its brilliant.  Brilliant, I tell you.)

Alright.  Here you go.  A post from April of 2010.  Enjoy.

***

I had an appointment with the dermatologist this week.

Not the crazy, mean, irrational dermatologist.

But my kind, new, and helpful dermatologist.

Kind, new, and helpful dermatologist has encouraged me to start accutane.

You might ask,

“Taylor, what, pray tell, is accutane?”

Well, I will tell you this . . .

Accutane is a super intense acne medication.

Holy raviolis, this is one annoying pill to take.

Why?

I’ll tell you why.

Because I have been trying to start this process since early December but first had to go to the lab to get blood work drawn but first I had to find someone to watch the kids (because I didn’t think it would be ideal to bring 4 children to a lab where they were taking my blood) but then the doctor had forgotten to tell me to fast so I went in for nothing then I had to go in again then I had to get the results then the nurse had waited to long to call me so they were all null and void then I had to take a pregnancy test then I had to see the gynecologist (sorry male readers) then I had to state my two forms of birth control then they waited too long so my pregnancy test was null and void then I had to take another pregnancy test then I forgot my special book, but in my defense they never told me I had to bring my special book with me everywhere I go, then I had to wait a month and then I had to create an online account with the government and then I had to answer 2.7 million questions about accutane then I had to go and take another pregnancy test and then I finally got the A-OK to start so then I went to the pharmacist but then no one had told me I had to bring my special card, which is conveniently located in my special book, then I had to come back, but I had to make sure I came back within the specific time window that the secret government account told me I had to come back in then I had to take a pregnancy test then I went to the pharmacist then he couldn’t give me my prescription because the nurse had entered my birthdate in wrong so then he had to get that all fixed then I had to come back then I finally got my prescription filled and I have been on accutane for one full month and my skin is a dry, dry desert and my skin is peeling and my lips are cracking and I am super uncomfortable and if I smile too quickly my lips start to bleed.

Seriously, folks.

My lips hurt!

Accutane.

It’s not for the faint of heart.

So, on Monday, I have to go for my check up.

And with me, as always, are the dudes.

Hooray!

So, they take me back to the exam room.

Question.

Why do they make you sit in the exam room for so long?

What is wrong with the waiting room?

You know.

The waiting room where there are toys and books for children to play with.

But, no.

Let’s make this mother sit in the exam room filled with untouchables and the round, swirling  doctor’s chair of death, while she waits for the doctor.

Yes.

That’s a great plan.

So, I sit and I wait.

And I discipline boys.

And I wait.

And while I wait, I think upon things.

Things such as:

A)  Why are my boys so naughty?

B)  When was the last time this floor was cleaned?

C)  I think I will go to Target later.

D)  Why do I still have acne?  I am 28.

E)  Where are Handsome Dude’s glasses?

F) Why is that stupid round chair in here?

G)  Why are my boys so naughty?

H)  Where are Handsome Dude’s spare pair of glasses?

I)  Why are my boys hitting each other?

J)  There is no way I am taking them to Target later.

Finally, the nurse comes in.

She asks me the following questions:

1)  Does your skin feel dry?

2)  Are your eyes dry?

3)  Do you have nosebleeds?

4)  Do you have blood in your stools?

(Um . . . gross.)

5)  Do you feel depressed?

6)  Do you have thoughts of harming yourself?

7)  Do you feel fatigued?

8)  Are your lips dry?

9)  Are you having severe stomach pains?

10)  Any chest pain?

Um.

Excuse me?

What kind of horror pill am I taking?

So, then she has to draw blood for the 1.2 million tests they need to test me on.

Nurse:  You remembered to fast, right?

Me:  No one told me to fast.

Nurse:  Oh.  Well you were supposed to.

Me:  Ok . . .

Nurse:  We’ll just take your blood anyways.

As she is filling tubes of blood, Handsome Dude is extremely concerned about her actions.

And Little Dude just leaves.

Yes.

That’s right.

He just walks out.

Next, I have to take a pregnancy test.

So, she sends me to the bathroom with the dudes.

Now, this was a treat.

If you haven’t ever tried to pee in a cup with your two young sons in a public place, I implore you to try it immediately.

As I am attempting to complete the task, Little Dude opens the door.

Yes.

That’s right.

He OPENS the door.

So I have to quickly waddle over him to close the door.

Then I bring him back to me and hold on to him with one hand.

Now, I have to pee into a cup one-handed.

While two boys are both peering and looking to see what is going on in this mysterious toilet bowl.

And I learned something about myself on this dreadful day:

I don’t have good aim.

As I am trying to put the lid on, Little Dude is alternatively rubbing my back and the toilet seat.

I quickly get up and put the cup on the counter out of their reach.

I turn back and see Little Dude has completely put his face into the toilet.

Thank goodness I had already flushed.

But , nonetheless!

GROSS!

We make it out alive . . . barely.

The nurse tells us to sit in the exam room and wait a bit for results.

Fantastic!

We are good at waiting.

Handsome Dude now decides he must go poopy.

So, back to the bathroom we head.

He.

Takes.

For.

Ev.

Er.

Seriously.

A good 10 minutes.

Finally, we make it back to the exam room where it looks like the nurse is now waiting on us.

Ha!  Payback!

Now, the doctor comes in.

He asks me every single question the nurse asked me again.

He asks me when my last period was.

He reminds me that I cannot get pregnant.

Because, clearly it looks like I need more children.

I can understand his concern.

He looks at my face and lips, says I don’t look too dry at all, and ups my dosage.

And I predict, dear readers, that my the end of April, I will no longer have lips.

***

Today’s Blessings:

My boys are older now.

I am no longer on Accutane.

I still have lips.

My blog transfer is going well.

My kids have had about a 60% success rate with vomiting into the toilet and not on the carpet.

Good Night.