What it means to turn 30...

Quick synopsis....

Sat - dull, constant, stomach pain; throwing up
Sun - dull, constant, stomach pain
Mon - slight, dull, constant, stomach pain
Tues - slight, dull, constant, stomach pain
Wed - severe, constant stomach pain; throwing up
Thurs - severe, constant stomach pain; throwing up

By Thurs, I was getting a little concerned. Thought Sat was a virus that finally went away Sun morning (at least the throwing up) and then it came back. The only relief I got was from lying on the floor with my fist in my stomach. Standing, walking, climbing the stairs - even talking made me dizzy and increased the pain exponentially. (I still have a pain in my neck from the angle my head was positioned on the floor as I tried to sleep). Finally, not wanting to repeat this cycle anymore, I went to InstaCare on Thurs evening.

The following does not give justice to the scene that took place there...(and seriously, you cannot make this stuff up)

(and don't be scared...it looks long, but it is the shortened version and should be somewhat of a quick read)

Receptionist: (sweetly and friendly)
"What a cute baby!"
(I had Brenden with me - Cam was being watched)
"Isn't he so cute! What a doll...oh, you're hungry aren't you? Milk is coming."
(I was getting the bottle ready in the waiting room)
"You're momma's gonna take care of you. Oh, what a cutie..."

She continues making little comments here and there directly to Brenden while she gets my information, hands me forms to sign and then goes back to typing perkily (is that a word) on her computer a mile a minute...
(click, click, click) - "hey there cutie!!".

I smile sweetly. That's nice of her. Then someone in the waiting room starts talking to her toddler, loud enough so she can make eye contact with me and interesting facial expressions, squinting and smiling knowingly...

Lady: "I remember when you were that age and you were so hungry. You knew just what you wanted, though, and were so cute. Do you see the cute baby?"

They call her name and I am left by myself to a few more interactions from the receptionist.

(pointing at Bren's tummy and making space invaders noises as she walks into a back workroom) - "pshoo, pshoo! So cute!"

The nurse comes to the frame of the door of the waiting room, solemnly and without expression - "Allison."

I gather my things and silently am weighed, and then my pulse and temperature are taken.

Nurse: "We're going to be in this exam room here. Please sit up on the table."

I put Bren down and the nurse closes the door. She sits down and starts typing in the computer - click, click, click. With one last dramatic click and bringing her finger into the air, she looks up, pauses, and then looks down at Brenden, who is sitting contentedly in his car seat.

Nurse: (with extreme enthusiasm from out of nowhere) "Oh you're so cute! You have a little toy there, dontcha! I bet you love that toy. What a fun toy for you to grab. Oh, you're gonna smile now, YES, you are! I just love that smile, I bet your momma just loves your smile. Oh yes, I bet she does. Your momma loves you and...oh yes, you're gonna smile cause you love her, too, huh? You're so big!"

She continues this dialogue, facing Brenden and only moving her body as she is taking down the squeezy thingy to check my blood pressure.

I try to comment that he IS such a good boy, but suddenly the nurse is silent again as she squeezes the air into the bulb thing, slowly releases it and counts, fingers on my wrist.

Nurse: (back to her expressionless, professional persona)
"122/70. Good."
(and then back to goo-goo, gah-gah lady)
"And what a good boy you are. I just love that smile! Smile for me! Ah boo! Ah boo!" (wriggles her fingers close to his face, he smiles and, she, satisfied, goes back to the computer)
...Type, type types in the computer and then she wheels over to me as if she is going to say something else and I'm ready to give her the vomit travelogue and then...

(her attention swoops right back to Bren) "I just can't believe how cute you are! Your mommy takes such good care of you! You are getting so big and eating and being such a good boy! I think you want to laugh dontcha! Laugh for me! Ahgooogooogooo! Boo boo! Where's that laugh? Tickle, tickle! I'm gonna tickle, tickle you! Oh, you like that? You are smiling? Your momma must love your smile. I like it, too. Yes, I do. I do. Uh-huh. I can't believe how cute those dimples are!! Yes! And you like that toy! Push with your hands!! There you go. Push, push, push. YES! That's how you do it. You know how. Your momma is so nice to have a toy for you to keep you busy. That is sooo nice. Sooooo nice. And you are liking it, aren't you?? Yes you are, you cutie."

Imagine, if you will, this going on for at least another 45 seconds, which is torturous in this context, especially as I am just helplessly looking on and not able to get a word in to comment or even agree. I can't even write all the goo-goo gah-gah's that she said and how she said them directly to Bren, not looking at me once, because it would be overly ludicrous to expect you to continue to read them, but I'm telling you - they continued. I started to get a little weirded out and was telling her in my head, "Ohhhhh k, that's enough now. Seriously. Don't you need to hear about my vomit and my lack of diarrhea and click click click everything I say?"

Nurse: "How lucky your momma is to have such a cute boy! Yes she is. She is a lucky momma. And look at you!! Such a cutie. I just can't believe it! I love that smile! A dooga dooga choo choo (or some nonesense)."

...And then complete change of facial expression and demeanor - "The doctor will be right in," and then out the door she went.

Good, cause my stomach was churning even more after that scene.

A few minutes later, Dr. Abinanti walked in.

Dr: "Ok, let's see here. Allison. (he reads the chart and then, suddenly smiles and looks up) Do you know how to pronounce your last name properly?"

Me: "Yes, it's actually Mos-ketti."

Dr: "Si, Mosketti lati ganda pochelli soota nona cali jaunti, pelegrino??" And he opens his hands and points them in my direction, shoulders up, eyes directed at me with bushy, raised brows.

Me: "No, no, I don't speak Italian, I just know that's how you say it."

Dr: "Ah, yes! Well, good. Most people nowadays might say Mo-shetti but you tell them what it really is. When I was growing up, my grandparents spoke Italian and I learned to speak it pretty well and then I actually went to Italy for a while and really learned it and that's why the ch is a -K- sound because they don't have a K. So the word cello sounds like a CH because the ce- and the ci- have that CH sound but the actual letters CH make a K sound..."

AND - SO - ON - AND - SO - ON - AND - I - WAS - LIKE - when are we gonna talk about my vomit??

Dr: "...and they really do talk like that in Italy, if you can believe it so you tell your husband to pronounce it correctly, hmm-k? And (gasp) who - is - THIS? WHAT - A - cutie!! I can't believe what a good boy he is. (transform into gurgly, low and high pitched vocal sounds) You are just loving that binkie aren't you? Oh! You're gonna smile at me now? Yes, let's take that thing out and get a good look at you! What a cute boy!! A jooga booga boo!"

(And then he proceeded to move his arms and body back and forth in front of Brenden's face, with his hands flapping like puppet mouths, back and forth and back and forth and then like inchworms, coming to tickle, back and forth and back and forth).

Dr: "Ah... tickle, tickle, tickle! You just want to laugh, don't you! I almost have you laughing, don't I? You are just so happy!! Maybe you just want me to...

(And then he swooped him out of the car seat and into the air making zooming sounds and then up and down and up and down...)

Dr: "Oh yes! That is fun!! Whee! You are so high! You like that? Yes! You are smiling so big!!"

(THEN, flubberts in Brenden's belly, a silly-faced pause to see if he would laugh, more flubberts, higher in the air and then machine gun kisses on his forehead, more wiggles and flying in the air, and then back to machince gun kisses ,this time on his cheeks).

This scene went on for so long that I suddenly found myself laughing at the ludicrousness of it all. Seriously giggling because I wanted him to stop this. Not only because Brenden just ate and could spit up all over the place with all the jostling and flying through the air, but also because it was seriously getting nauseating. Could he seriously go on this long?? I looked around to see if anyone else was watching and could anyone else believe this whole scenario of baby gah-gah overload?? But no one was watching to give me a reassuring roll-of-the-eyes in the little 4X5 room so I just kept laughing and watching him, probably making him think I was loving this because he kept doing it MORE, and Brenden kept laughing, dang it.

I sat there open-mouthed, breathing in and out laughs and wondering if I should just loudly start talking about my throw-up, hoping to end this traumatic event, but he finally started bringing Bren in for a landing. He flew him back into his car seat but continued with the pokes, puppet flaps, machine gun kisses and space invaders sound effects all the way to slow-motion backing onto his rolley chair, continuous fluffy-browed eye contact with Brenden. With my eyes wide, shoulders back and looking from him to Brenden, him to Brenden, I finally opened my mouth and took a deep breath to start saying something...and then...

Dr: "I just know there's a nurse here who wants to hang out with this handsome guy. (to Brenden) Let me see who I can find who wants to hold you and play with you and....(to me) I'll be right back," and out flew airplane Brenden to the arms of some other strange stranger who was already making goo-goo noises as the doctor came back in and closed the door.

Seriously? ...I took a pause and another deep breath. The doctor stared at me with a questioning look on his face, as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary had just occurred.
Ohhhhh kaaay.... I started my vomit-logue and he listened, nodded and looked at the floor (to hear me better?) and then I laid down on the table and he pushed and kneaded on my bread-dough stomach. I was just sure to have an inflamed gall blatter, a nearly bursting appendix or at least a ruptured spleen. Something. Please not just a virus and "it will just go away eventually." He pushed here and there and finally found an excruciatingly tender spot.

Dr: "Ah, you've got a nice big blockage here."

Me: (I looked at him with a wide-eyed, concerned questioning stare....hospital gowns and pudding were flashing before my eyes, the puncturing needle of the IV was already starting to make me shudder and recovery time was calculating in my head).

Dr: "You're F.O.S."

Me: (wait....huh? What? Are you kidding me??)

Dr: "I like to say full....of....stool. Haha, gotcha there, didn't I?" (He turns away, happy with his diagnosis as I start to sit up from the table).

Me: "But... the throwing up and I've been going to the bathroom ok and my kids had a virus the week before and I eat pretty healthy and..."

He proceeded to tell me what I could buy over the counter to clear me out and I found myself nodding and blankly staring, wondering what I was going to tell the babysitter, after I had mentioned that I thought I had appendicitis. Nope, just poo... How silly. All that pain and excruciating suffering for poo? That pain was seriously worse than labor. I could manage labor. This was totally out of my control. And it was all just poo??



And now....I digress.... (LARGELY)...and ponder on what it means to turn thirty. Losing my hair in large quantities whenever I touch it?....maybe. Having two kids and wondering where the time has gone?....definitely. Suffering grave humiliation and excruciating pain after five days of just plain constipation?...priceless. You just can't put a price on that kind of denial and embarrassment. But, for me, you CAN give it a name and even a title...."Welcome To Your Thirties."