Rollercoaster Post... Keep all hands and feet inside the cart!

You are in for a ride. You'll laugh, you'll cry, your jaw will drop... seriously comment if you don't experience all of these things while reading. And it is a long one. You may cry out of torture.

I told everyone I had an appointment for Sam's big fat head. I wasn't going to share it. I will now. It is February 8 at 9:15 am. Or so I thought.

My WONDERFUL (not sarcastic... seriously wonderful) pediatrician's nurse called me yesterday afternoon to make sure I had finally gotten my appointment time. I thanked her and told her I did find out just Wednesday. To be safe, I wanted to make sure we had the same time. She said, Feb. 8 9:15am. I said yes. Then she goes on to say, "And the CT scan is at 3:30pm."

Ummm... WHAT?! So that's what I said. "Umm what CT scan?" Of course, my nurse doesn't know, she is just giving me the information they gave her. Not me. They gave my pediatrician's nurse the information concerning exposing my child to radiation. Not me.

I'm pissed.

So... I dial as fast as my fingers would dial the neurosurgeon's office. I ask for a nurse. I'm told I can't speak to them, they'll have to call me back. I then ask receptionist how they conveniently left out that I had another appointment that same day and that it involved a CT scan. She says,"Well CT scans are just protocol." I don't give a flying squirrel's crap what protocol is, you haven't even seen him yet! I tell her this in no uncertain terms and she says, "Well they will get you in sooner than 3:30pm".... like my problem here is that my afternoon will now not be filled with unicorns and rainbows... UNNECESSARY RADIATION IS MY CONCERN HERE! MA'AM!

After several times of me repeating myself, crying, shaking, wanting to vomit... she finally gets it. And she says to me... "Well ma'am, you would want to know if something is wrong with your baby. You wouldn't want to miss something just because you were afraid of a little radiation would you?"

Yes she did. She went there.

I then kindly explained to her that while she may do this everyday, it isn't her son she's doing it to, and I could give a rat's ass what they do every day, how little radiation it is, or whose left butt cheek I have to kiss to get some answers, but until someone gave me an actual reason other than "puppy" protocol (Puppy is my nice word to replace the mean one's I really want to say) then my son was not having one done.

Before you guys think I've really lost my mind here, put yourself in my shoes. Sam's grandpa died of a brain tumor... BRAIN TUMOR. Both of Sam's grandmas have blood cancer. He has one grandparent who has not had cancer of some sort. He has two great grandparents who have not died or at least had cancer of some sort.

He has two parents with fat heads. He has no symptoms of hydrocephalus except for said fat head.

Anyone else seeing that this CT scan is a big waste of time and much more of a risk than his freaking fat head?! Anyway...

It is at this time she offers to let me speak to a nurse. Funny, I think I asked for that 20 minutes ago.

She comes back on the line to tell me the nurse is busy and her advice is just to come see the neurosurgeon at 9:15 and express my concerns to him. I ask if she can leave a number for the nurse to call me back b/c I'm not coming until someone explains this to me. She says... wait for it... "Well I can but I can tell you right now she won't call you back."

THEN WHAT THE PUPPITY PUP IS SHE DOING WORKING IN PEDIATRICS?!!!?!?!?!

I am a hysterical mother, pissed beyond belief, concerned for the welfare of my melon-headed son, and you are going to intentionally leave me hanging?! Go work for geriatrics... their parents are dead, you don't have to call them back.

So I gingerly hung up, my BFF is trying to help anyway she can (but doesn't know how b/c I've lost my friggin mind), my husband walks in, I fill him in and he asks for Dr. Pediatrician's number.

Our pediatrician ROCKS and gives us his personal cell phone number. Justin calls. Dr. P calls back and says, "No that is ridiculous. There is no reason for CT scan yet, they haven't even seen them. Come in tomorrow morning and I'll measure both of your heads and do a plot and see if any of this is necessary."

He did remind us this is NOT his expertise, but he'd do his best b/c he's not okay with unnecessary radiation either.

We go in this morning... Sam's head is big as always. My head is big. And Justin's head is GINORMOUS (quoted from Dr.P ...love him).

If you know your statistics, for something to be statistically significant, you have to have at least two standard deviations. My head was 2.5 standard deviations above normal for my age. Justin's was FOUR! BAHAHAHAHAHA... he's a fat head.

But guess what? So is my son! And me too... but just not to the extent they are. So... moral of the story is... Fat heads just run in our family! No neurologist appointment (which is really good for them too if you think about it... I was not happy with them)! Dr. P is just going to keep a close watch on it and we'll go from there.

YAY FAT HEADS! I think we'll all be pumpkin-heads for Halloween this year. I love irony.

Wordless 2nd Post on Thursday (except for captions)

(Sam's birthday cake)

(Sam's makeshift bath after said birthday cake)

(Sam's nap after birthday party... someone was pooped!)

(Sam's first snow he could play in... but didn't)

(Snow again, but with Daddy)

(But I want in the kitchen... not in JAIL!)

(This is what happens when you leave a plate of food unattended around a 1 year old. Stuff gets ATE!)

The End is in Sight!

For all those wondering (or not wondering), I finally have an appointment for Sam at the Neurosurgeon.

Yup... Neuro SURGEON! Yick. That's gross.

I assure I am still not "worried." I feel like my level of worry for this situation is actually quite low. For most parents in this situation it would consume their thoughts, they'd be on edge and depressed, and their lives would be very much affected until they knew.

The first day we found out I was a wreck. I cried a lot. A LOT. I couldn't talk about it. I couldn't talk about much. And believe it or not, all of that was going on not because I was worried about him, but just because we have to go through this to in all likelihood find out what we already know:

He has a big head. I don't need to go to a neurosurgeon to find that out.

But apparently I have to go to find out he is normal and doesn't need brain surgery? Again... I don't need to. I just have to now. So it is almost like I'm being forced to worry about something that I cannot make myself worry about. I know my son. He's fine.

Sooo... after that first day, I got my act together. It still consumes my thoughts, but only when I truly have nothing else to think about. Like now, when I forced myself to blog.

I'm not posting the actual day of the appointment to the general world. My thoughts on this:

1. I don't want to be nagged for answers. If nagging worked, I would have had this appointment two weeks ago when this crap started. All things happen in due time.

2. I don't want to flirt with the devil. I like to play it rather safe. If I give the date, it is like telling everyone "Hey, when this date comes around, ask me lots of questions assuming everything is okay and then we'll see how I answer you." It is a scary thought, but if we do get bad news, I'd like to have my time to handle it before I go out telling the world unprepared.

3. Really that's it. I don't like to be nagged and I don't want to count my chickens before my eggs hatch.

I will say that the appointment is sooner than I thought it would be so the end is in sight. I cried tears of relief when I found out I had an appointment. Being a mom is weird LOL.

Random Update

Disclaimer: This post will sound like I'm all down in the dumps. I'm not. Trust me.

This update is just to let you know that I still exist, my family is doing great, all is well in the world. It is just that every time I go to update, my mind goes straight to the neurosurgeon, are they gonna do brain surgery thing. And I don't want to talk about that. But as it turns out, that is what consumes my mind when I am not sufficiently distracted (by life, work, playing with Sam, etc.).

So forgive me, but I'll probably be MIA on here for while. I'm not worried. I truly believe Sam will be fine and is fine currently. I have no appointment yet. It's been 19 days since someone told me my child might have brain surgery but no one gives an elephant poop about it enough to call me and let me know when we might find out. If you get a chance, pray for the nurses in charge of making this appointment. Trust me, they'll need it.

Specialists Stink

Specialists don't really stink. Having to take your baby to them does. Big time.

Sam had his one year old appointment today. Every appointment we have ever had his head has been big. Off the charts big in fact. And I have eyes, I'm well aware that my kid is sporting a melon. But up until this point, it hasn't been concerning. Dr. O has acknowledged that his head is big and always said, "If it doesn't level out pretty soon we may have to have it checked."

Here comes the doom... today when talking about his weight, he is bigger than 95% of boys his age. That has actually come down, we were off the charts there last time too.

He is taller than 75% of boys his age. That is right around where he has been the last couple of times.

Then there is the matter of his head... Dr. O said, "Well his head is concerning." It is at this point I know this conversation is going nowhere but south and fast.

Dr. O explains that while Justin and I have big heads ourselves, we still need to have it checked because he could be having a problem processing the cerebral fluid that the brain naturally makes and this could be causing his head to be bigger.

This is when I started to cry. Dr. O felt really bad for making me cry, but stuck with his story (which I appreciate). Basically, the likelihood of something being wrong is really small, but in the event that this is the 1 child out of 1000 that have this problem, he'd hate to wait any longer and risk damage being done.

So... Sam has to go see a neurologist now. Bleck. The thought makes me want to throw up. I'm afraid when the day of the appointment comes I may actually throw up.

To clarify: I fully, 100% believe that he is fine. I have a melon-head myself. So does his big-headed daddy. When he was born, the nurse said, "Look at that pumpkin-head!" He was doomed from birth (and thank God for c-sections BTW)!

The thing that makes me cry and makes my stomach want to invert is that I AM TAKING MY CHILD TO HIS SECOND SPECIALIST IN A YEAR! And he is healthy! It is infuriating!

And don't get me wrong, I'm down with the better safe than sorry mentality. I love Sam's pediatrician with an unnatural love. But dammit... just the thought of taking your son to a NEUROLOGIST to see if he is RETAINING FLUID IN HIS BRAIN which would mean BRAIN SURGERY... yup, just threw up a little.

So if I seem off for the next month or so... not quite myself... just pray for Sam and take no offense... I've got some stuff on my pumpkin-headed mind.