Tag Archives: band-aid

Maintaining Hannah’s Body

Waxing, shaving, poking, prodding . . . there is only one other body that I can think of that probably needs more maintenance than Hannah’s — and that body belong’s to Rachel, my unicorn. Today Rachel went to a dermatologist and he gave her a cortisone shot in her unicorn horn. Yes, it is true. I think I have created a monster. A while back I told Rachel about zocdoc.com. She has MagnaCare, an insurance none of her regular doctors accept. I stumbled upon this website where you pick your specialist, your insurance, your location, and then once you pick a doctor you can make the appointment online. It works for Rachel.

But this isn’t about Rachel. It’s about Hannah. Why do I say that? I say that because I just spent the day with Hannah and from Rachel I couldn’t even get a phone call . . . a phone call to her own mother, phew! All I got was a text, “I’ve been busy sorry went to derm before got cortisone shot in my unicorn horn that’s been there for 2 months.” When I ask her to call me (because she doesn’t answer my call) she answers with a text, “Not now. Why whats up?”

I met Hannah at the train station at around 1 pm. I packed a lunch for her — ginger peanut soup and ice water. I nourish her body and then drive her to the doctor. On the way there she reached over the seat and screamed out. Paper cut. Blood everywhere and no band-aid. Short wait at the gynecologist’s office. Hannah came out with a boring tan band-aid on her finger for the paper cut. Booooring! Don’t know what went on in there. I wasn’t invited.

Are we having fun yet?

Let the fun begin. At the pediatrician’s office Hannah is given a cup to pee in. She claimed she was all cleaned out. “Sorry, but I gave at the gynecologist’s office.” Okay, so they took blood instead and plenty of it. Notice all the pretty band-aids Hannah is modelling. Lovely. Now let’s see, there is a band-aid for meningitis shot, a TB test, and 2 blood tests. Hannah was ecstatic when she heard that she was not the oldest patient at the pediatrician’s office. Try 30 years old.

Wine is making me tired. Good night.

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Filed under Family, Long Island Living