Brody is fine.
I am a state of jumbled nerves. Really, how is it I can face down a jury, albeit it with a fair amount of nausea, but my own mostly happy life has me on the edge.
Thursday, we had a vision and hearing screen. Brody's vision is excellent - hell, he can spot a school bus at 2 miles.
But she couldn't read the hearing, because .... wait for it..... there was fluid in his ears. A possible ear infection.
Also, Brody's teachers, cognizant of our surgery in 7 days, report that there have been 3 cases of strep in Brody's room at school. Just in his own room.
Brody visits the third doctor in four days, our beloved pediatrician.
"Well," he says after looking in Brody's ears, "This is the kind of thing that could clear up on its own, or it could turn into an ear infection."
"When is surgery?"
"Seven days from today."
"Alright, I'm writing a prescription for an antibiotic. If it wasn't for surgery, I wouldn't be doing this."
"If it wasn't for surgery, we wouldn't even be here because except for a cough, he's not acting sick."
Then a blizzard hits Denver. I stay home unexpectedly. With no actual paid time off left. A quandary for a different day.
On a positive note, the left front tooth, while still jammed up, is still white. I noticed that the right front tooth looks weird, but, I think, maybe that's because of the other front tooth being, you know, screwed up.
Saturday passes, and Sunday passes. Brody comes into the living room today and tells me he's scared of the baby spiders in the kitchen.
Hell. We have ants. We seem to get them in the spring. I go buy ant traps.
"Brody's tooth is loose," reports my husband.
sigh. "Is it unjamming and falling out?" I ask.
"No, the other one."
I check the right front tooth. It is. Loose, that is. This is the one that got a hard fall last fall. I don't even have the heart to check the jammed up tooth to see if it's loose too.
Fine. Screw it. He'll loose both front teeth. My sister in law, niece, nephews, did. Everyone I know almost has a story about baby teeth falling out early.
We're in our bed playing with Brody and it hits me. You know why he's going to lose his front teeth? Because he plays like a puppy. Head first into and onto everything, and chewing and biting everyone and everything, and his head is his third arm.
Still, he's laughing and smiling and I'm thinking, okay, I've got this. I have my arms around this problem. He'll be toothless in a few weeks, and it's okay. We can feed him pureed food or milkshakes if we need.
Then I remember something in the back of my mind about anesthesia.
Specifically, I remember that the anesthesiologist is always asking, the night before a surgery, if Brody has any loose teeth.
I google it. It can stop a surgery, particularly if it's a front tooth issue, for intubation. Don't wanna aspirate a tooth in a lung.
Or the anesthesiologist can stitch it in so it's safe for the surgery.
Our Shriners anesthesiologists are very good and also .... non-risk taking. This is elective surgery, they say, why risk it?
It's not that loose. The only reason we knew was because for some dumb reason my husband was poking around Brody's mouth, checking all of his teeth or something. I will not even entertain the thought....nevermind.
I tell this to Jeremy, about anesthesia. He replies, "Stop googling."
I can't. Google gives me most of my information about most things, from the FMLA to hair styles that flatter my oval square round face to witnesses I'm researching.
I am now in the bedroom again, and notice the dogs aren't there, in their usual places of repose. I wonder where the dogs are. They were muddy earlier, and it's 9pm and they are still outside. Why? Hmm....
I go downstairs to let them in.
Mocha, the shepherd lab mix, proudly trots up.....carrying what appears to be a dead baby duck missing part of its lower body. If you take my meaning.
I inhale sharply, Mocha drops the dead thing on our patio and comes inside, and Kahlua, the chocolate lab, follows Mocha into the house.
At least they weren't muddy anymore.
My only hope at this point is that Jeremy removes the dead thing from the patio before Brody sees it in the morning. Or that a coyote comes and takes it away.
But I don't want a coyote on my patio, right? Even if it means removing a dead thing?
It doesn't matter anyway. It's out of my control.