Entry 244: Feeling Down

I'll be honest.  I'm feeling a bit down heading into this weekend.  Typical life stuff.  It doesn't always go the way you want it to, now does it?  Something is up with Lil' S -- just a phase hopefully -- but he's been Little Mr. Crankshaft the past few weeks.  He might have a lingering bug or something.  He's been getting a temperature seemingly out of the blue at night, and then it's gone in the morning.  Then it will come back at night three days later.  It's weird; I'm not sure what's going on.  Whatever the case, his tantrums have been off the hook.  If the smallest thing doesn't go his way -- like, you peel the paper off his crayon all the way when he only wanted it half-way -- he starts bawling and goes into conniptions.  And he's gotten super clingy with S, so the only way she can get a break is to leave the house or hide (and even hiding doesn't always work -- he's perceptive now about that type of thing, "Amma! *cry, cry, cry* Amma downstairs! *cry, cry, cry* Amma downstairs!").  As you might imagine this is really wearing her out, and when she gets worn out, I get worn out by proxy.  Also, he constantly wants the iPad ("Bubble Gu-p-p-ies *cry, cry, cry* G-e-orge *cry, cry, cry*) or a pacifier, and we've been trying very hard to limit his exposure to both of these things.  The iPad is meant to be a once-in-a-while treat, and pacifiers are now only for bed time.  Partly this is because these things aren't good for him in large doses, but also it's because I want him to get used to hearing "no" sometimes.  I don't want him to expect to get everything he wants the moment he wants it.  This is good parenting, right?  Eh ... who the hell knows?  Everybody just makes it up as they go.

He's actually been sleeping more consistently lately, which is nice -- to put it very mildly.  S and I have been, well, not well-rested, but not abjectly sleep-deprived.  It helps a ton.  Dealing with a perpetually cranky kid is like being trapped in a house by a crazy woman.  Not getting any sleep while dealing with a perpetually cranky kid is like having this crazy woman hit you in the knees with a sledgehammer.  It makes everything way, way, way worse... And I have no idea why I decided to reference a good-but-not-great 25-year old horror movie here.  I just did for some reason.

The consolation line for people when they're singing the blues is often "well, at least you've got your health".  But even that isn't true for me at the moment.  It's my back.  It's just nagging me.  It's not a serious injury -- at least it doesn't fell like one.  I can still do all the physical activities I want to do -- jogging, weight lifting, yoga -- no problem.  But then I'll randomly twist the right-wrong way and pain will shoot through the right side of my lower back.  I keep waiting for it to go away, but it's just not.

So I broke down and saw a specialist, and he sent me to get an MRI, which I did today, and then I have a followup with a different type of specialist on Wednesday.  We shall see.  The MRI was a pain, and I mean that literally.  It hurts to lie in a hard plastic box for thirty minutes without moving.  You realize about eight minutes into it that some part of your body is in a slightly awkward position, and then eight minutes later that awkwardness becomes severe discomfort, and then eight minutes later that severe discomfort becomes full-fledged pain, and you spend the last few minutes in utter agony.  It's tortuous -- almost literally.  You're crammed into a box in an uncomfortable position.  If there was no medical reason for it, it would actually be considered torture.  One thing that would be nice is if there was a "shot clock" on the inside of the machine you could watch.  Knowing how much time I have left to suffer really helps.  (Unless it's like that Homer Simpson clip where he's getting pummeled in a boxing match by Drederick Tatum, and looks up and sees six seconds have ticked off.)

One good thing about this MRI: It didn't take all that long.  Well, it did, but it was my fault.  I forgot the scrip from the specialist who ordered the MRI, and they couldn't do the procedure without it because it contains specific instructions.  (It was definitely my fault, but the office assistant at the specialist's who set up my appointment could have done me a solid by underscoring how important it was.  She just stuck it in with a slew of other documents, many of which aren't important.)  So I had to drive home and pick it up and drive back.  This bumped me down in the queue a bit, but to the clinic's credit, they handled it pretty well, and got me in without too much wait time.  The man running the desk was competent and helpful, which made me happy.  It's amazing how much more smoothly things can operate when that's the case.  It's also amazing how conditioned we are to deal with incompetent, unhelpful people in positions like this.  Why is that?  Are there just not enough competent people in the U.S.?  Or do many people in these types of positions just quit trying at some point?  I'm not sure.

It's a good thing there wasn't a long wait because, well, because waiting sucks, but also because the place was packed and the only chair was in front of a bench that an old man was sitting on with his legs spread, so I had to sit in direct proximity to his crotch.  And then they didn't get very good cell service, so I had to settle for an old Sports Illustrated (although reading the "Five Reasons the Broncos Will Win the Super Bowl" was rather amusing) and the local news on the waiting room TV for entertainment.  At one point a story came on about a black man who was asphyxiated by NYPD, and they showed some cellphone footage of him being put in a very excessive-looking choke-hold by an officer.  All the people waiting tsk-tsked and shook their heads.  I looked around and realized I was the only white person in the office (I was also the only person under the age of 55 for some reason), and I briefly contemplated standing up and pronouncing, "Hey, everybody, I think that's just as fucked up as you do!"  But I didn't because that would have been really, really weird.

The other big story was about a supposed trend in which teenagers light themselves on fire and then post it on social media.  If this is true it's absolutely insane, but I suspect it's not true -- meaning it's not actually a trend, but rather something a few stupid kids did (as everybody knows, there is no paucity of stupid people doing stupid things on the Internet), and then this news station thought it was just the right mix of intrigue and terror for fearful parents, so it might grab some eyeballs.  Well, it didn't work because after continually teasing it, they had technical difficulties, and their prepared bit wouldn't play.  So instead a caught-off-guard anchor had to ad lib for a few minutes about something he clearly didn't know anything about, "See ... uh ... what they're doing ... uh ... is they're ... uh ... lighting themselves on ... uh ... fire ... and then ... uh ... Facebook ... uh ... yeah ... uh ..."

Well, that's about it.  Until next time ...

[Update: I finished putting Lil' S to bed, and he was really good all night.  Maybe the phase is starting to pass.]