The Doctors Appointment

I have had a head full of snot for about 6 days now that is getting progressively worse. Sudafed is not touching it, and benadryl does nothing but make me tired. I cannot smell poopy diapers, and wouldn't know if there was a propane leak or the house was on fire because I cannot smell anything. I can taste very little. I am able to taste some if I blow my nose after a bite of food, but that gets tiresome and not real pleasant if I have an eating companion other than a 1, 4, or 6 year old.
Last year, almost to the day, I went to the doctor, 4 weeks post-partum and had congestion and a cough that was ruthless. I had pneumonia. 2 years before that, in April, I had pneumonia that I was hospitalized overnight for, and had out-patient IV antibiotics after my discharge. So as you can imagine as my congestion got worse, and a cough started in the night, I thought, "by Joe I will not get pneumonia again! Not now, not during tax season, not when the sun is starting to shine, not when I am already so freaking tired! I am going to the doctor."
I made an appointment this morning. We had a date with our friends at the playground and since Jenna was off today, I didn't cancel. They were so excited to get outside in this awesome weather, besides...why stay home? Life doesn't stop when you are sick, right? And if I am contagious, stay 3 feet away and upwind! I, on a side note, have always known God to be perfect and organized, and all-knowing, but I wonder if it wouldn't have been a good idea that once children are born, moms could henceforth be immune from any illness, until at least their smallest is 18 years old. What do I know though.
So we go to the park and they all enjoyed themselves. Running and playing in the sunshine and warmth! After an hour or so, it was time to go, I look at Zac who had mud on his pants and shoes, and had cheeto powder all over his face and t-shirt sleeves. I look at Jenna who had dirt all over her jeans and under her fingernails, and Trevor, who was surprisingly presentable, and thought to myself, "I am not going to drag these kids and get all these looks", then I fought back a tear, and said "heck yes, I am going to get me an antibiotic!"
So we are on our way, in the van are wipes and a change of clothes, not because I am prepared but because I am both lucky and lazy... the van just needed to be cleaned out and my friend had just given me some freshly washed clothes that Zac had messed up at her house. So I tear out the wipes, throw them in the back and have them do their best in the van to look less unloved and unkept. I cheer on Zac to change his clothes in the back seat, and he does it...in like 70 seconds! We get there only 5 minutes late and looking not bad...except me, who perpetually looks like crap lately, but all the more evidence as need for intervention!
I sign in, make the co-pay and corral the kids until my name is called.
The nurse holds Trevor who bawls while I get my weight which is totally necessary for a respiratory infection, then we not so quietly make our way to the room. We get in there, the kids are fighting over the rolly stool or the chair, and tripping over each other for the best diabetes magazine. Trevor is still bawling- perhaps fearing an immunization, and I am trying to tell her how I feel so she can write on her little folder something that she interprets. And I add the obligatory side note, "by the way it would be good for the doctor to know that I am pregnant!" (Yes, this is my announcement too, so if you hung in there to read you know that I am 11 weeks). Her response is "OOOOOOOH", but not the-excited-congrats-"OOOOOhh". "It was the what the heck, do-you-need-a-birth-control-pamphlet-"Oooooohhh". Which was annoying, but I refrained from hitting her and telling her what I thought. After she leaves I threaten my kids with their lives to be good and bride them with an ice cream cone.
I got my Z pack and was validated as she heard some wheezes and noted that I probably couldn't smell, taste or breathe from the nose. She mentioned the pregnancy, but this time, I said, "Yes, we are!" in an excited voice.
Afterall, it is exciting. We were surprised, but we are happy to have another baby. Our kids are pretty good and they clean up decent! We can provide for them and even though only 10% of families have 4 or more kids these days, it doesn't mean we are crazy! (That could be debated, actually!) I think from now on when people ask in an exasperated tone if we are done, I am going to say, "I don't know, maybe we will have 2 or 3 more!"

Well Steve is almost home (thank you for coming home), Trev just woke up, and dinner is just about finished cooking, so I will be headed to an elevated-head-of-bed and hope for some mouth-gaping sleep while the sun is even still out!