The kids are at school ..... which means I have until 3:00pm to sift through their unguarded trick or treat candy. Ah, hello long lost Butterfinger. My sweet mini Twix, come to mama. And since they're "mini" size, which is short for miniscule, that means I can justify eating 4 or 7. That reminds me, I need to add Spanx to my shopping list.
Anyway, ALL this Halloween candy made me reflect on an event last year, which occurred the day after trick or treating. Shall I share it with you? Okay, if you insist.
On that rueful day one year ago, our boy came home from school literally doubled over in pain and in tears. Now, keep in mind that after four kids, I tend to subscribe to the "you're fine" theory and don't over-react in medical situations. aka: Walk it off, kid! But Evan was in such excruciating pain that I feared it was an appendix attack, or maybe a creature was about to burst out of his gut -- because I've seen the original "Alien" flick.
So in a panic, I called our family physician's office and begged them to see Evan before their office closed for the day. The doctor literally stayed past closing time to squeeze him in. After a thorough examination, the doc was stumped. He suggested that it was perhaps a punctured lung or a ruptured spleen. Is it just me, or is the word ruptured one you don't want to hear in the doctor's office?!
An x-ray was going to be necessary. On the way down the hall with my little guy who was hunched over walking like an 89-year-old man, Evan asked if he could stop in the rest room.
After a l-o-n-g time, he emerged from the bathroom, proclaiming that "I feel MUCH better now"! Uh huh. All that trauma over a bit of constipation.
In short: We made an urgent visit to the doc and paid $83 for the pleasure of taking a dump at his office.
The end. Ugh! On second thought, I'd better hold down my candy consumption a bit today...... After all, I do try to learn from our mistakes.