It was a random Thursday (yesterday if you are reading when I post this), and Noah and I were having a typical day. His younger brothers went to school, and Noah and I spent the next two and a half hours getting ready to go to a physical therapy evaluation.
I guess you can stretch that to three hours if you count filling out the paperwork after I made breakfast and lunches for the other boys. I wouldn’t have had to do the paperwork early in the morning, but I had to for two reasons. One is that they sent me the paperwork in the mail, but I didn’t get it (I know this because if I don’t check the mail, it doesn’t get checked). The other is that I printed it off the night before when they emailed it to me after telling them I didn’t get it, but I didn’t actually do it then. Why? Because I didn’t want to.
So we got ready, and part of that was cleaning Noah’s big wheel chair. The seating system. I didn’t really have to do that, but he eats all his meals in that chair, and I was too embarrassed to take it like it was. The other part was picking out a cute outfit. Before you start judging me, these days anything is an excuse (I settled on my flowing pink shirt, my “redneck” shorts as my husband calls them because they are cut-off, and pink shoes).
Then I wrangled the hundred pound chair into the van. I’m not sure why, but it always makes me angry. First of all, the first heave just doesn’t get it done. Second of all, the front, left wheel always gets stuck in the handle for lifting up the back seat. And I lose my mind every time that happens. Every. Time.
I’ve gotten spoiled by the stroller we bought. I don’t even want to tell you what we spent on it, but it makes me thankful we didn’t take our beach trip. And I love the beach. But I actually enjoy leaving the house now, so I feel like it was an even trade. Adding in the fact that Noah seems pretty comfy in it, and it’s better.
The evaluation is so that we can get Noah a stander. He needs one. I mean, he’s had all these surgeries to make standing feasible for him again. He needs it. His medicaid won’t pay for it since he’s over 18 (don’t you love how they use your tax dollars?). But our insurance should help out. I really hope our insurance helps out.
We finally left the house with zero minutes to spare. I drive like a maniac, so we were on time. And the equipment guy was late, so that helped. Though it made our heroic efforts seem a little… you choose a word. I was still a little sweaty from the “getting the chair in the van” effort, but bonus points, we got the headrest fixed. And that’s a whole other story.
Speaking of the story, will we ever get to the capsaicin?! Are you impatient?
We finished that appointment, and I took Noah to see his dad. August is the time when Drew leaves before Noah gets up, and gets home when Noah is already in bed. It was a quick visit. And finally we got home.
It was lunchtime, and I was hungry because I hadn’t eaten breakfast (too busy picking an outfit). I got out the leftover taco meat and all the fixins’, including the chilis that were grown in my very own garden and lovingly chopped into thin slices by my very own hand. And with that hand, I finished off my taco salad by placing the slices spread evenly on top.
I put Noah’s food in the microwave and sat to eat my spicy salad. About halfway through something dropped into my eye. I’m pretty sure it was an eyelash, but I almost didn’t live to find out, because about that time my eyeball caught on fire.
All I did was put my finger to my eye to fish out the offending eyelash, and that’s all it took. Tears, and snot, and eye wash, and gel eyedrops later, it still burned. All I can tell you is that capsaicin is an evil beast. What is so wonderful to taste is so horrific in your eye.
But listen, friend, you’d be proud of me. I didn’t bring up biblical donkeys or even sunny beaches. I might have “ouched” a few times. I might have asked “are you kidding me?!”
But you know what that rascal, Noah, did?!! You already guessed it. He laughed.
I said, “Is it funny that my eyeball is on fire?!”
He laughed harder. Then I laughed while tears spewed from my eyes (somehow making the pain worse?).
So. I guess it was a good day. Man, I love that rascal. How could I not???
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