On Monday I finally got my act together and called to make an appointment with the urologist who treated me in the hospital over Thanksgiving. It took until now because a) I needed a referral and getting an appointment at the Navy clinic takes approximately a zillion years and b) the only time I ever feel really sick is after 5 pm and it’s hard to make appointments with a closed office. After all that time I spent procrastinating the nurse was like “OK, can you be here at 3:45?” Unfortunately, the only reason they could see me so soon is because it was just a consult, not an actual make-the-stones-go-away appointment. The doctor ordered a CAT scan to get a better look at the stones (I couldn’t have one when I was pregnant), blood work to determine what was causing the stones and a giant bottle of pee. Yeah. I’m supposed to collect ALL MY PEE for 24 hours and bring it to a lab for testing. I’m pretty sure I have to keep it in the refrigerator while I’m collecting it too. I think I’ll put off buying groceries until I’m done with THAT. The CAT scan is next week and my follow up with the urologist is in a month, but now that I have been officially, uh, referred, I can go in for instant testing to diagnose an infection and get the drugs anytime my fever comes back. Thank God.
In happier news, Caroline is doing beautifully.
Height: 22 inches (50th percentile)
Weight: 11 pounds 15 oz (75th percentile)(damn 1 oz short of 12 pounds!! I should have fed her and weighed her again)
Head circumference: 40.3 cm
I had to bring Little Evan to the appointment and although I was prepared for the worst – complete with candy hidden in the diaper bag OH NO I AM NOT ABOVE BRIBERY – he was an angel. I’m lucky that Caroline is so easy-going because she was happy to lie on the table and just kick her legs while Evan climbed in my lap and we read Big and Little (Today’s Random Fact: There are 5 different books on Amazon with that title and none of them are the one that I own. It must be out of print) because we are working on our opposites. TAKE THAT BABYCENTER.
Even when I had to put him down to hold Caroline for her shots he just stood quietly and waited. Or maybe he was too terrified by her ear-splitting screams to run away. She was red-faced pissed from the second I pulled her leg out of her pajamas until I got her back in the car seat. I swear she knew what was coming. I hoped some milk might make her feel better trying to nurse her while she’s that mad is about as effective as trying to nurse a rabid weasel so I gave up. In other news, my boobs are 2 seconds from actually exploding, thanks to the combination of crying baby and failed latch attempt. I’ll be adding at least 10 oz to my freezer stash while Caroline sleeps off her anger.
We saw the doctor I liked (aka the one I don’t feel like I need to answer “correctly” instead of always honestly) and he made sure to give me lots of time and prompting to ask questions. Since this isn’t my first time at the baby rodeo (are you now picturing a baby rodeo? No? Just me then)(But would the babies be doing the lassoing or would people be lassoing the babies?) I didn’t have anything to ask – but knowing he would take the time to listen if I did is reassuring. The only tiny bit of contention was when he told me I should “keep trying” to give her a pacifier even though her reaction to them is similar to what yours might be if someone tried to shove a dirty sweat sock in your mouth. Thanks Doc, but we’ll pass on the paci’s, even if this week they’re a “do” – because next week they’ll probably be a “don’t”.