First for the cute:
At Maddie’s school, they do the whole, “Letter of the Week” thing, and the kids get to bring in a toy on Friday to play with and “share”.
This week’s letter is “D”. She starts scanning the house each Monday, so we’ve already discussed dolls, toy dogs, and disco balls. Tonight, Ryan says, “I thought we agreed you are bringing me for share time.”
From the back seat, Maddie snorted. Really snorted. Actually, now that I think about it, it was a cross between a snort and a raspberry.
“DAAADDY! You know I can’t fit you in my cubby.”
Discussion: Dismissed. Denied.
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On a, good Lord, do all men communicate like this:
I attended a teaching conference this weekend with my mom and one of her co-worker. The co-worker sleeps with a device on her face to help with sleep apnea, and I’ve been worried for quite some time that Ryan has apnea issues. That’s what I do in my spare time. If I’m not self-diagnosing, I find other people and analyze what diseases and disorders they have. Other people knit.
Anyhow, given that I had someone to ask, I asked if she had to do the whole sleep-clinic thing, and she said she did it twice. Then I explained that when Ryan sleeps, he’ll be dead asleep and suddenly wake up (not fully) and make a nasty gasp for air and start coughing in a way that sounds as if he is choking. She suggested we mention it to his doctor, so today, while meeting his new doctor, Ryan mentioned it.
I should say that he had no idea he does this, and it scares the ever-loving crap out of me on a weekly basis. It’s not like a throat-clearing cough, he suddenly starts gasping in this wet, choky way that does NOT sound normal.
Ryan went to the doctor, got his flu shot, asked about the rash he had on his stomach, and mentioned that his wife wanted him to ask about sleep apnea.
Only he told the doctor it’s because I told him he stops breathing and then coughs. When the doctor asked how long he stops breathing, Ryan told him 45 seconds. He thinks. WTF!?!? Dude, I would not have waited a few years to bring this up with him if he stopped breathing for darn near a minute! I would be dialing 911. Duh. The doctor was stunned, and he said, 45 seconds? We don’t need a second opinion. I hereby diagnose you with sleep apnea. I am writing the referral as we speak. Are you sure she said 45 seconds?
“Uh, yes. I am fairly certain she said 45 seconds. Wait. Maybe 30. But really, I could swear she said 45 seconds.”
Not sure where he got the whole time thing, but now the next time I see the doctor, I need to ask them to add something new to my file: In the case of a debilitating illness, I need to elect a non-spousal representative to communicate about all medical information. This is one in a long string of WTH communications on his part with medical personnel.
Usually, doctor says something like, “I think your daughter has an ear infection and I am going to prescribe this antibiotic, to be picked up at Longs and administered three times per day. Refrigerate said medicine and give with food.”
One hour later, I hear: “Maddie’s ear will turn into a refrigerator if we do not give her food three times a day. We need to purchase all the food from the snack aisle at Longs.”
Seriously, this doctor must think my husband is either very ill or I am incredibly insane. 45 seconds.