Medical Drama: Everything Is Way More Dramatic Than It Needs to Be
Stella is sick. So I decided to go to the doctor and then tell you all about it on my BLAAAAWWWG.
On day three of the febrile festival, I figured that we may need some outside help. I'm not really a rush to the docotr at the slightest sign of illness kind of person, but well. It's the day before Oban. And the Doctor's office will be closed, and how much would it suck to have a buring up baby and no one to see her. So I thought, better safe than sorry.
We showed up at the clinic as soon as the doors opened. Bla bla my baby is sick bla bla. And within 20 minutes, we had been seen, armed with a perscription and sent off to the phramacy for a few packets of suspicious poweder and some up the bum medicine.
Japaense doctors have a penchant for up-the-bum medicine and suspicious white powder in bags. And I don't have a penchant for either of these two forms of medicine delivery. Anyway. We surivived the trek down the street to the pharmacy, filled out a million forms, got our powder and bum bum bullets, and then hopped in a cab to go home.
Back at the cat ranch, things were fine until an hour-long vom-a-thon with a couple of streaks of blood lead me to call the doctor again, and he asked us to come back for another evaulation. Which lead to a scene that is so typical of me: aaaahahahahahaha doctor! ahsahahaha must pack bag....chicken. head. cut off. Diapers. diapers. Where are the (oooooooooohhhhh WIPES. I need Wipes. Remember last time when there was a diahera poop and no wipes. That is not an ideal situation. Wipes. What was I doing???) Oh, right diapers...and oh VOM...fingers in teh vomit, fingers in the vomit...FINGERS IN THE VOMIT...okay, change outfit. Put baby down. Clean up vomit. Look for wipes. Vom. Gaaaaaaahhhhahaha....fingers and toes in vomit. Okay. Srip baby. Shower baby. Dreass baby. Put baby down. Vom. Finger painting. New outfit. Put on shoes. Look for phone. Vom. All down her front. Pick her up, vom all over me. Final shower. Final costume change for her and one for me. Annnnd finally, 30 minutes later, we're out the door.
So, we head to the doctor, and the whole cab ride there I'm all MAH BAYBEE IS SOOOOOOO SICK! WAAAAAAHHHH. And he tells us that we'll have to go off to the hospital, but first we need a letter of introduction, and a friend to translate. Sure, yup whatever. I'll bring a friend (PSHYCH! No I won't). So, obviously, I'm all OMMMMMMGGGGGGG HOSPITAL WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA but have to hold myself together for Mr. Chef's sake because he's silently shitting his pants at work. Blah blah blah. We get to the hospital, are checked in, looked at, prodded and poked, perscirbed an anti-biotic in powder form for a viral infection...and then, immediatly Stella perks right up, and is all, HEEEEEYYYYY There are fun nurses here! And other kids! HI EVERYONE! LET's WAVE.
So, there you have it. A dramatic freak out of typical preportion.
Still, I'm glad we went to the doctor, even though the visit was totaly unecessairy. And lucky Stella! We're heading back to the hospital again today!