No news here

So anyway, we had to take Peter into the shop for servicing ten days ago. No story there.

 

…Fine, fine, I will elucidate. Peter has an under bite, and it caused his front bottom teeth to essentially scrape away the enamel on the front of his upper teeth, leading to tooth decay and cavities. To make matters worse, he likes getting his teeth brushed about as much as he likes wearing a coat these days (i.e. not much), and so he’s always made tooth brushing time a matter of a wrestling match. Because of that, he also got a couple molars that had problems, too. So, his dentist said we could either bring him into the dentist’s office many times, strap him onto a board and wrap him up like a little mummy so he couldn’t kick and scream like he’s inclined to do (all while being on laughing gas) or we could take him to Children’s Hospital where he’d be put under and they’d do the work all at once.  We decided to go with the hospital.

 

Technically, the experience at the hospital was pretty good, aside from Peter coming down from the anesthesia in an exceptionally aggravated and delirious state. They said that’s not uncommon, but even if it’s ordinary it’s not fun to go through.

 

Getting the preapproval from the insurance companies before hand was nightmarish, though. I don’t see how anyone can be against government involvement in health insurance after all the time wasted talking to people who couldn’t help me or even look up what I was talking about. I went through layer upon layer of useless bureaucracy and was transferred around without explanation or announcement 3 or 4 times each call before I could talk to someone who knew how to find out what I needed. I even talked to one guy who apparently had no access to the original request tell me it wouldn’t be covered because of reason A, B and C (and needless to say, Peter was qualified under each A, B and C, so why was this knob giving me his unqualified opinion?). We did get the approval sent out at about 4:15 the day before the procedure, but it took them a month to do even that. I’d take the Zimbabwean government taking over rather than keeping the status quo, because at least I’d know I just need to bribe someone to get something done.

 

Peter’s post-procedure recovery seemed to be going ok until he pretty much passed out on his mom’s lap two nights later. He stared running a fever that was getting to the 101-102 degree range. We talked to the hospital and also his dentist, and they said that if he was going to have an adverse reaction to the anesthesia that it would have occurred on Friday night or early Saturday, so whatever he had was likely something else. His fever did come down on Monday, and he had lingering symptoms until about Friday morning, including congestion and coughing. We came to the conclusion that he has the flu, probably (hopefully) the swine variety. If that’s as bad as it got for him then we’re pretty happy because he should be immune now. Over the weekend he would cough in the morning so we tried to limit his exposure to others, but even that is gone now. He is still a little whiny, though. Partly because he just doesn’t nap much at all on the weekends and so winds up burned out come Monday, and partly because he’s a toddler asserting control any way he can, and this is the method du jour. He’ll get over it. Sooner is better than later, though.

 

In other news, I carved his pumpkin the other night. He wanted Elmo, so I gave him Elmo. We have three other pumpkins to carve. He said he wants those to be Elmo, too. I am opposed to that, quite frankly. Especially my long tall pumpkin, that looks kind of like a tall, orange zucchini. That one is mine. I found it. I hauled it around that pumpkin patch (well, I hauled all 4 of them, and I killed my back and arms on the two gigantic ones – one now being Elmo) and it is Daddy’s Precious Pumpkin. I know Peter thinks everything is his, but that one is Daddy’s assertion of parental individuality and authority. But I shall adhere to Peter’s new Halloween mantra: “No scary.” I just have to figure out what to do with it.