I don’t really know how to describe this last weekend.  Roller Coaster is, frankly, an injustice.  It was much more than that.  Mother’s Day was amazing.  Full of family, good food and lots of laughter and play with the kids. I got a beautiful basket of flowers (that I really hope I remember to water!) and most importantly lots of hugs and kisses from my Ava.

The day before Mother’s Day?  Day.  From.  Hell.  No hyperbole.  I’ve been through some truly awful things in my life.  Nothing, and I mean nothing compared to this.

I don’t know how else to tell you except to start at the beginning.  I hope that writing this all out, will somehow help me put it behind me.  At least, start to.  The day started off great.  Ava and I spent a couple hours in the kitchen.  We baked a cake and prepped pasta salad for dinner that night and the next.  (our job was to bring the pasta for the Mother’s Day dinner).  We were looking forward to her best friend Ella, and her mom, Shiela, a dear friend of mine coming over that afternoon.  We planned a trip to the park and then back to our place for burgers on the grill.

Mid morning we set off to hit up a couple of thrift stores and then have lunch.  Ava wanted to go to Dairy Queen, and since it was a pretty warm day, I had no problem agreeing.  We ordered our food and sat down to wait.  After a minute or so, Ava announced she needed to use the bathroom.  So I took her back, and here’s where the fun started.  She sat down and immediately began crying that she hurt and couldn’t go potty.  She said it burned and hurt really bad.  Ok.  I immediately suspect a UTI.  Problem?  It’s Saturday afternoon.  No Urgent Care places open.  Next stop?  ER.  Can’t let this go  until Monday.

We got checked in and had a pretty short wait considering how many people were there.  I explained what was going on to the triage nurse, the next nurse and then the doctor.  As I expected they wanted a urine sample.  And that my friends is where the ship went off the rails.  She tried.  Bless her little heart she tried so much, but she couldn’t go.  Even after a cup of cranberry juice.  The doctor was insistent about getting something.  (Please note here that after attempt one, she got a couple of drops out, and we were told, nope, not enough).  So in comes two nurses and catheter.  Ever had one of those put in?  I don’t recommend it.  Much less on a not quite four year old.

I had to hold her hands and hold her still while they tried.  Three times.  After try three, I drew the line.  STOP.  You’re done hurting my child.  I have to write it out here.  She screamed at the absolute top of her lungs.  Her face and head was beet red.  Her whole body shook with pain.  And not only was I not stopping them, I was holding her down while they did it.

I know it had to be done.  I know they had to try.  I know she had to be seen to get meds so that we could kill the infection.  I KNOW this.  But  I cannot get those images of her screaming in pain out of my head.

I still haven’t really let myself have “breakdown” over it.  I’m afraid to.  I’m afraid I’ll start crying and never stop.

At this point the doctor came back in and said she couldn’t diagnose her without something.  I told her right then and there they weren’t laying another hand on my daughter.  She looked at the “sample” Ava was able to squeeze out earlier and said that was enough to culture at least.  At that point I wanted to slap the shit out of pretty much every person there.  They really didn’t need to put Ava through that.  Other than being money hungry, test running jackasses.

See I know a thing or two about UTIs.  I also know that almost always a broad spectrum antibiotic will take them out.  I also know that getting a successful result on a culture is only about 50%.

The doctor left and a nurse came back in asking if we needed anything.  I said other than a prescription and our discharge papers, no we didn’t.  About 15 minutes later we got both of those.

By that time my ex had arrived and we all went back to Dairy Queen and had an actual meal.  Then we went to Walmart to fill the prescription and, as I put it, buy the poor kid any damn thing she wanted.

And what she wanted, as it turned out was this: 

She’s talked about it a few times since.  The nurse kept telling me “Oh, she won’t remember.”  Uh no, she remembers everything.  Like the house we moved out of a year ago when she wasn’t even three yet.  She says she doesn’t like going to the doctor anymore.  I’m worried that from now on she’ll make that association.

On the whole, she seems to have moved on.  I am trying really hard to do the same.  But there is no hurt in the world like your child’s hurt.  I’d have taken on any amount of pain to spare her that.

So.  That’s how my Mother’s Day weekend went.  I really hope yours was awesome.