Dr. Emergency: You’ve Been Warned

Affirmation: a declaration that something is true.

According to Wikipedia’s definition of affirmation, “it may also refer to a positive judgment: in logic, the union of the subject and predicate of a proposition” (whatever the crap that means).

Basically, when I think of the word affirmation I think of positivity, of acceptance, of confirmation that I am awesome right.

And, honestly, being right is all the affirmation I need.

This week’s Writer’s Workshop has asked us to share an the affirmation that makes us feel better.

For me, it’s not telling myself I’m beautiful or smart or thin daily that makes me stay the course.

I mean, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid and even myself can’t convince myself that any of those things are true.

For me the only thing that works is knowing that I’m right.

Confirmation that I am money is really the only thing that motivates me to keep going.

And, quite frankly, there is nothing greater than having the pleasure of knowing that I purchased the right garage door opener even when Dumb Dad said I couldn’t, or of being at practice on the right night even when Dumb Dad said I wasn’t, or even of knowing that #3 was a boy when Dumb Dad said he wasn’t gonna be.

But, it’s not just about being right where Dumb Dad is concerned (although it mostly is because I find little in life more pleasurable than being able to say “in yo face” to that man); it’s about being right where EVERYONE is concerned.

It’s sorta just my thing.

And, I appreciate it when other people have a similar need (unless the other person is Dumb Dad, because we both can’t always be right and being wrong all the time would get really frustrating for him). A need to do the right thing, make the right choice, reach the right diagnosis.

Apparently, not everyone is as committed to being right as I am.

Apparently, not being right is just as fulfilling to some as being right is to me.

Scary, but true.

So, if you read my blog (and you should, I mean, what are you waiting for? A personal invitation? Fine. I’d love for you to follow my blog, subscribe to my RSS feed, stalk me to the ends of the earth and back, show up at my door with money and gifts and tickets to Justin Timberlake concerts. How about a bribe gift? Fine. Go ahead and enter my handmade clutch giveaway from Julia Sherry Designs. Everyone can be bribed with handbags, right?!).

Like I was saying, if you read my blog, then you know that #3 required a visit to the ER this past Sunday.

Calm down.

He is fine. And, if you missed that post and you’d like to know what that was like you’re gonna have to read: Dumb Mom’s Guide to Surviving the Emergency Room ‘cause I’m not telling.

Back?

Kay. As I was saying he is mostly fine.

He still has some lingering little issues, but he is definitely on his way back to health and wellness.

Which is good.

I mean super natural good.

But, the fact that he is fine now does not mean that the misdiagnosis we received in the ER is entirely a moot point.

I am not one to cry foul, or file a complaint, or even make a big stink out of it.

But, I do give warnings.

And, if you are anyone other than my kids, I only give them once.

So Dr. Emergency (name changed to protect his identity), consider this your warning.

Thoughtful, selfless, amazing human that I am, I am NOT reporting this incident to your superiors. For your sake I will keep this between us, because if I know them (and, for the record, I sorta do), they would not be happy to learn about this incident, and you, Sir, would have some explaining to do.

So since my lack of initiative and free time to be tied up in hospital bureaucracy and evil spiritedness is limited, a letter should suffice.

And, yes, you may Thank Me Later.

Dear Dr. Emergency,

First of all, let me share with you that #3 is on the mend. He is still not 100% back to tearing up the pavement with The Brothers, but he’s definitely on his way. So thank you. Sorta. Thank you for taking a moment (literally A MOMENT) to pop your head in and check on my little man. He’d had a rough go of it, we both had, and we were anxious and exhausted and frightened when we met. So, I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule (although, isn’t it the case that the ER is like almost always busy?) to spend a few seconds (literally, like less than 60) examining my burning-hot-with-fever baby. I’m sure there were numerous other people patiently awaiting your attentions (however the ones on either side of us weren’t examples of that) and, while I realize attending to patients in the ER is your job, still, I’d like you to know that appreciate it. Now, that being said let me share a little beef I have with you. My kid didn’t have an effing ear infection, dude. Seriously, unless that thing can be gone, without a trace, less than 12 hours post diagnosis, then you made a mistake. Or you just flat out lied. Our primary care doctor (aka Baby Doctor), in her attempt to not make you look like the pathetic, imbecile that you seem to be, provided this explanation, “Perhaps he was afraid, because the fever was so high? So he gave the antibiotic just in case?” Perhaps. Only here’s the thing, we don’t take antibiotics “just in case”. We take antibiotics “because we have to”. And, I understand that many people would be upset to wait in the ER for hours with a lethargic, irritable, exhausted baby only to go in the back and have them say, “It’s a virus. Take two Tylenol and call me in the morning,” we are not those people. I may be a Dumb Mom, but I’m not a dumb human (especially not in comparison to the mental giants assigned the bed next to us on this fateful trip). I understand how antibiotics work. I appreciate the distinction between viral infections and bacterial infections (and I don’t need you to call them “buggies” so I understand). I realize that medical science is not miracle working, and that sometimes you just don’t know (pisses me off, but I get it). So, in future, do us all a favor and don’t guess. Don’t give my child an antibiotic just to shut me up in case and think about spending more than half a minute in the room with us to make a diagnosis. I know time is money we really aren’t that important tight schedule busy night someone’s sicker you were under a great deal of pressure (but, that’s part of it, right? Working in the ER is a stressful job.). Which is why, this is between us. I’m not sending a copy of this to the president of the place. I’m not even going to share your name with the World Wide Web anyone. This is for you. As a warning. Because things are okay. But, should #3s whatever-he-has turn into the Bubonic Plague or some creepy mind altering infection that leaves him sterile or paralyzed or worse it will be on like Donkey Kong. I will find you and you will cry. There’s something to be afraid of, and you’ll need a lot more than a 10 day course of amoxicillin to throw me off. XOXO, Dumb (but not stupid) Mom

Okay readers, bring on the affirmations, in the form of comments if you please:)

And, feel free to link up your Thank Me Later posts as well!

Well, if the Linky thingy isn't working (because I can't see it, so maybe you can't either?) just leave your link in the comments and I'll add it when the bloody thing stops tripping.