Today has been such a funky one. I am almost hesitant to write about it because it all seems so silly when I actually hear the words come out of my mouth. Brady's been through some pretty traumatic times - hernia surgery, a few echos, some pricks for blood... but what do I choose to let consume me? Calories and calcium. Hmpf.
Today we met with the nutritionist, a wonderful woman named Tara who will doublebook to get us in her schedule. I do appreciate that! And even though we waited, I had no problem with that. I did have to have Michael sleep at a friend's to get the Children's Hospital by 7:30 a.m., but sometimes that happens.
She sat with Brady and me going over how to get more calories and textures into the boy, without increasing his calcium intake. So we are doing the usual -adding pastina to Stage 2 foods, 1 tsp oil to his jarred food, instant oatmeal into his cereal, real peaches and pears with the heavy juice, etc. We are also going to be doing at least 12-1/2 oz of Enfamil, 7-1/2 ounces of Calcilo a day, mixed together. The Calcilo is a low calcium formula.
Now this was all fine... not very traumatic. And the fact that Calcilo has to be ordered for home delivery is fine. And the fact that after you call and find out you need a prescription is fine. And after you make all the arrangments to have the form for the prescription sent to the dr's office then faxxed back to Ross is fine. And the fact that they don't deal with health insurance, you just have to get reimbursed yourself or have it sent to a pharmacy is fine.
No.. the traumatically frustrating part is when the guy from Ross said after I questioned what the price is, "Duh..... federal law prohibits me from telling you the price over the phone because it is a metabolic product."
ME: "You can't tell me how much it is going to cost?"
DUMBASS: "No, but I can fax it."
ME: "Um, since a fax line is a phone line why can't you tell me over the phone?"
ONLY-DOING-HIS-JOB-BUT-I-HAVE-TO-BE-PISSED-OFF-AT-SOMEONE: "Federal law prohibits me from telling you."
ME: "Well, I got a message to call to order with my Mastercard."
BRAT: " Yes, we take American Express, Visa, and Mastercard! " (smiling, I hear in his voice)
ME: "So, you want me to give you my card numbers and you aren't going to tell me how much you're charging me??????"
ANNOYING-MAN: "Well, you can order it and then I can tell you the price."
ME: "Forget it, fax me the price list."
It ends up being around $17 a can, and since it is a metabolic product that needs a prescription, there is a good chance health insurance will cover it, I am told from the lady in the Reimbursement Division. Yeah, yeah... we'll see when I call tomorrow.
Anywho, I lost it. It was so frustrating, but really kind of stupid that I would choose something to trivial in the big picture to let bother me. C'mon... we've got a sedated echo in two weeks!! Now, before all the psychiatric mommies comment, I know I was probably allowing myself to let my guard down on something that wasn't so bad because I knew somewhere down deep I could recover better and faster. I think my cup runneth over, literally. And I never take the time to drink some tea from that cup either.
Anywho, Tom said I should go out a let loose because I need some mental health break.. okay, ladies - up for a drink in say, Ohio? That's probably more or less central for everyone. We'll meet around 7 for drinks Saturday night and then get some dinner!
[In the picture above on the right you'll see Mr. Brady upset because his arm got stuck in his highchair toy... sorry, Brady, Mommy has to take a picture first before she can help you! :) ]