What a day.

At about 815 this morning, the orthodontist to whom I had taken Fritz yesterday for a consultation on the recommendation of the dentist who said his mouth was too small for his adult teeth called to offer me her opinion as to what should be done. Apparently not wanting to frighten Fritz or my other children, all of whom were present of course, she waited until this moment to tell me that I needed to take him to an oral surgeon “right away.”

He has a painless cyst in his jaw, which he’s had for at least 3 months.

Although I’ve managed to remain calm throughout this day, I’ve had a few tense moments like when the receptionist at one oral surgeon’s office used the word “biopsy” and when the orthodontist’s office called back to follow up and make sure that I was being appropriately proactive in taking care of my child’s urgent medical needs.

I ended up getting a referral from our primary care physician to see an oral surgeon at Walter Reed. The earliest date they had available was August 10th. When I asked if that was ok, given the urgency which the orthodontist expressed in discussing Fritz’s needs, the receptionist said, “Well, it must be, since that’s the earliest we have.”

There you have it: socialized medicine at its finest. Your medical condition is only as urgent as our calender is full.

My other experience with the medical community today came at Peter’s 12 month well baby checkup. You can tell I’m not a first-time mother, since he is now almost 13 months old. I witnessed a deft passing-of-the-buck when I brought up his scheduled immunizations. My objections to the MMR and the Chicken Pox vaccines are moral ones, since the cultures used to make the original vaccine were made from the cells of aborted fetuses. There are alternatives for measles and mumps, but this doctor (a stand-in for the doctor I usually see), was unaware and uninterested in them. He suggested, after a lecture on the importance of immunizations (I agree!), that there would be no harm in waiting 3 or 4 months (when I would surely have an appointment with someone else). Fine by me.

{For more information about ethical vaccines, see Children of God for Life.}

At the time I sat down to write this, many many hours ago, Billy was confined to his room as punishment. He called to me from the top of the stairs crying in agony because he had come to the conclusion that I was going to hell because I was a bad mommy, and the idea of his beloved (but really really mean) mommy suffering in eternal damnation was (apparently) unbearable. I explained that, even if my punishment of him were completely unjustified, I would not go to hell for making him stay in his room for a few hours. He then wailed louder, since if I were not going to hell for my actions, then certainly he were going to hell for his. I then explained that 6 year olds do not go to hell.

One might suspect that I drill my children daily in their catechism and warn often of the perils of a sinful life. No. I don’t know where he gets this stuff.

And then, as a cherry on top of the whole day, as I sit and type this, smug in my knowledge that all five of my little angels are playing in the backyard where I can see them from my window if I should only turn my head to look, my husband comes in from work, says hi and notices the front door is open… because my children are no longer in the backyard and have crossed through the house and out the front door…Jenny naked as a jaybird in the lead, Peter following behind and Fritz, Billy and Katie chasing after (Fritz and Billy having disagreed on who should chase and who should tell mom both decided to chase). Yes, honey, aren’t I doing a dandy job raising your children?

Thus concludes another normal day at my house.