Itsy-Bitsy-Spider

July 5, 2001
     I haven't been writing much because my son has been taking up my time. First he went through three days of being on an IV pump - a portable pump came home last Tuesday with us with the attending hysteria.
      I have to put clean sheets on my bed and my big younger son (240lbs) in it. The whale takes up 75% of the bed. He snores. He is fighting allergies or the start of the cold.
      We do this for two nights. He likes to snuggle - so he snores in my ear. He turned over and dragged the IV pump adapter to the floor - and a glass of orange juice with it.
      The only spot on my bedroom floor still clean and still showing the original color.
      He has to be baby-sat so I can hear the pump. I tele-conference.
      In the middle of this, I managed to complete the release of all the files for Synopsys' first eLearning technical training workshop to the vendor, Vitalect, so we can be on-line by August 4th. Advanced Chip Synthesis eLearning workshop. There will be a free demo soon as well.
      That was a 16/7 project for the past 4 months. Thank God I have a Mac G4 computer - because I did the project on it at home - the NT at work still having its butt in a proverbial sling.
      It has been deadly hot - over 100 in Fremont no less - and my little room air conditioner beats itself to death. That and three fans and we stumble around. But I am one of those people who does not like to sleep in a hot room. So I sleep with the ceiling fan on - which dries out my eyes, puffs them up, and leaves me sneezing.
      My younger son had neatly pulled the wings off his fan - so I must figure that out - blades and screws.....
      He ripped the one in the old living room apart.
      I have a whole-house fan on the floor pointing down the hall sucking cooler air toward my son's room - which leaves him sneezing.
      You cannot win.
      And because of the heat, at night we open every window we have.
      And the spiders race in. I chase them with bug spray, brooms, sneakers with flat soles and the vacuum cleaner hose.
      They are many because I haven't had time to mow the lawn never mind spray the yard for bugs.
      This weekend. I swear. The grass is three feet deep! Well....maybe not THAT deep!
      Right after I attack the phone company who have not made it out here to install the phone line despite two different scheduled days for the installation!
      My son gets his own phone line - so I can have the use of mine.
      That's what also stops me from writing - I tend to auto-log-on and that bumps him off of Diablo II - and that rather annoys the little stinker.
      He likes to be on line, sending emails to co-conspirators in the game, laughing and chopping up opponents.
      I want a phone with a light and a loud ring in his room - for when he is not on-line. And a direct line to the modem. Two ports for the line.
      And the new jack location in my family room needs to be terminated (only been there about 2 1/2 years). I also want his line there. Every now and then, you would like to be on-line and on the phone - which I can do at the office.
      So far, this$300 installation is in limbo.
      Wait 'till the boy gets home.
      I say home because it is not a holiday unless we are in the hospital.
      Those spiders you sometimes cannot see. One managed to bite his leg.
      We watched it - every time we went in to have the IV bag switched and blood drawn. By Wednesday I was concerned.
      By Sunday (Saturday we sat around waiting for the phone company no-show), it was an angry red, about 4cm in diameter, hard and hot.
      I called oncology pediatric doctor on-call.
      Bring him in.
      Oh, and pack a bag. Right before July 4th.
      Not that we would have had fun. Newark, where we shopped for fireworks (over the freeway from Fremont where they can't be sold) has now decided not to sell fireworks either.
      This had already pissed us off.
      Union City still has them.
      Maybe next year.
      You launch them in the street. Or find a park.
      In Santa Monica you go down to the water line - police have no jurisdiction there. I remember standing ankle deep in waves and the beach alive with fireworks.
      In MiraMesa - San Diego - for years we would go to the launch site, lay on the grass and watch them burst overhead. And go home deaf and happy.
      Well, IV antibiotics (the bite is now a site of a staff infection - soft tissue involved - not the bone) and he is trapped.
      We are in 3North - above 2North where he lived for 10 months.
      At least to start.
      My hips rebell.
      My legs hurt.
      Hard chairs.
      I rock in the wheelchair. I prop up my legs. I bring in videos.
      I crawl into bed with him to cuddle and watch TV.
      His appetite is down.
      I haul in food.
      By Wednesday, July 4th, he wants out.
      We settle for a roll around the roof (they disconnected him from the pump for a bit) and saw distant fireworks. Once security let us up the elevator to the roof. We are joined by others.
      We are told not to let children climb on the walls. No dropping children off the fourth floor of the pediatric center.
      Awww! Shucks! Spoiled my fun! Child-tossing!
      By Thursday, I work, I call, and still no joy. He is not happy.
      He wants to go home. He demands to go home.
      No! No! No! they say. He pouts.
      He buzzes for the doctor.
      He nags. He is being difficult.
      I fetch food.
      They move him to 3West. In a shared room. They didn't warn me.
      You get this sinking feeling when the room your child was in is suddenly empty.
      I haul myself back to the new location and ask where he is.
      The space is tiny. We are spoiled - private rooms are the norm for him he has been so sick.
      It is sooo crowded I drop things. On him. He bangs his leg on the tray table. Gets a cut.
      I knock a soda bottle to the floor. The nurse had done this earlier
      The soda bottle explodes - pops out the bottom. The other one had too.
      I open chips - and the bag bursts at the bottom. Fortunately I have it in a plastic grocery bag.
      I dribble his Healthy Choice sauce pouch on his sheet. We send for a new one.
      I roll the wheel chair over his slippers. It hangs up. It can't turn.
      I have a gauntlet run to find the bathroom.
      The rec people come down - one is a Mac person and we talk shop for about 1/2 of the General's Daughter. The man finally asked me what on Earth I did for a living.....I am too enthusiastic about keeping a full disk (no partitions - partitions to me are called DVD disks, or a second drive), stay with OpSys 9.1 (well, I will load it soon) and not OpSysX (which my son has). (MAC stuff.)
      The second man comes down and drives off the first - too much time on one patient. This second one knows better than to nag my son to join the "teen group".
      I fuss a bit, no light, noisy, can't move (I am claustrophobic - just a tad), can't read, am hungry (I went to a parent lounge and made coffee and a Lean Cuisine dish).
      I am uncomfortable after about 3 hours sitting. My hips hurt.
      I give up and get in bed with him and he makes me watch WCM wrestling. HE likes to cuddle. He has his mommy captive.
      We giggle so much people pull open the curtain on our little cocoon to see what we are doing. They slam them back shut just as fast, shaking thier heads and wandering off. I am being forced to watch the Rock and my son regales me with stories about the soap-opera drama of the wrestling teams. I laugh louder.
      One nurse asked what on earth was going on in there. I am under a blanket (I was cold) and it looks like we are sharing the bed (He's actually under a sheet.) Let them ask. Let their eyes cross.
      I'll never tell.
      We are the notorious patient and his mother. Nurses learned to look up and go
"Oh. You two."
      We believe in laughing our way through all this trauma.


Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 by Donnamaie E.White for this story.
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