Why do I say CATty? Well let's see. Gianna has a dormant case of CAT scratch fever, she needs to have a CAT scan with dye within the next couple of weeks, and my whole life seems to revolve around CAT naps. Pretty CATastrophic, no?
Jill was actually able to get Gianna to Nemours hospital today to see the infectious disease doctor, who wound up being wonderful. She was very impressed with the amount of tests her regular pediatrician had already done and has quite a few more lined up for poor Poopy Pants. Blood tests did just come back that showed a low level of CAT scratch fever, sitting dormant somewhere in Gianna's body. They may have to do another endoscopy to make sure it's not settling as bacteria somewhere in her stomach or intestines. Tomorrow she'll have a sonogram of the abdominal organs to make sure there aren't any visible malignancies that could be causing this fever she's had for over 4 weeks now. Then in a couple of weeks she'll have to be put under sedation for a CAT scan with dye injected to highlight any abnormalities in various organs and her sinuses. Right now it's all guessing and waiting, which is so frustrating to all of us that love Poopy Pants. I'm so thankful that Jill, Mark and the girls are able to stay at the Ronald McDonald house during these times. It's such a comfort for all of them. A familiar place with familiar people that genuinely care about them.
As of this morning, Jill still has not gotten anywhere with animal control over Liloh's death. The ONE deputy in her city that can do anything about this situation happens to be in the hospital right now. This morning they did have someone filling in for him that paid Jill a visit, but so far, those damn dogs are still running around getting loose. In fact, one of them, Diablo (fitting name for the
fucker dog, no?) got out while animal control was there! Ah, proof! Jill told the deputy that if something was not done about those dogs over the weekend, that Monday she would be calling in the media. Go JILL!!!!!!
In other news, I spoke to my ENT today, who had just gotten my CPAP study results. He looked them over as we were on the phone and said I did very well with the machine. That I had only stopped breathing an average of 5 times per hour (compared to 101 times without the machine!), which is considered within normal range. Hell, I'd much prefer to not stop breathing at ALL while I'm sleeping, but I'll take what I can get at this point. Unfortunately, now I have to wait for him to sign something and send it back to the sleep institute, who will then find a company which takes my insurance and can set me up with my own machine. Think Veruka Salt here... I WANT MY CPAP NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
Aren't y'all just dying to see what I look like with this contraption on? Oh, you know I'm going to take pictures for all of blogland to admire!
And while I have you here, let me just say that even after my snarky little comment to my dear, lovely neighbors (and I know who you are!) I still have not received any comments from them. Does this mean I should give them the cold shoulder during the block party? Maybe show up without an appetizer? Or maybe come outside with my bra on the outside of my clothing to scare all the little kids away? Watch out ladies, I'm on a mission for comments and no one is safe until I get them! What do I have to do? Send Madison out with her paper and crayons again, and put notes on everybody's doors? "My mommy is comment deprived. Can you please help her?"