Life and Times of a Mommy(:

Weekend Plans Gone Awry

Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzz. I looked down as my phone vibrated across my desk at work Friday morning. Who the heck is calling me at 9:30? They know I’m at work… I saw my mom’s husband’s name flash across the screen Well Todd wouldn’t be calling unless it was something important… So I answered


“Danielle? Its Todd. I’ve got some news about your momma,” came the response from the other end of the line. “You know how I took her to the hospital last night?”

“Yeah….” I said thinking back to the conversation my mom and I had. Her right arm had been going numb and so had the right side of her mouth causing her to be unable to talk. She had told me about it a few weeks earlier. I didn’t want to scare her so I told her it sounded like a pinched nerve and told her to go to the doctor.

“Well, she’s had a couple mini strokes. That’s why her arm was going numb and she couldn’t talk.” My eyes instantly filled with tears. “She’s been admitted to the hospital.” The tears started over flowing. I tried to keep my voice steady as I finished the conversation.

“Have you called Memaw and Pepaw?” He had, they were on their way. “Ok. Just keep me updated. We will see you soon!”

I jumped up and rushed to the bathroom to try to calm down and breathe. My mother was at the hospital. She’d had multiple mini strokes. Not only was she in the hospital, she was in a hospital we had some rough memories at. So it was even harder. I walked out of the bathroom, still on the verge of a panic attack as I walked up to a coworker to tell her I was stepping outside to call my husband. That afternoon we made the three-hour trip south to Little Rock, Arkansas. We had already been planning to go down there already to visit family. This just through a small kink in our plans.

The diagnosis: my mommy had a blood clot in her brain that they thinned with blood thinners. She has a dark spot on her left frontal lobe and the lobe behind it. This is damage from where her brain wasn’t getting oxygen during the strokes. She has a blockage in her carotid artery (the other major artery in your neck) which is causing her right arm to go numb and stop working. This will need surgery. A surgeon will put a stent in to clear the blockage and keep another one from forming. She will be on aspirin for the rest of her natural life. She cannot, under any circumstances pick up another cigarette as long as she lives, not even an electronic one. She has a little trouble getting her words out right and stringing her thoughts together. But other than that, she’s ok. She was released Sunday afternoon.

This whole ordeal has definitely changed my opinion of mine and my mother’s relationship. We have our ups and downs, that’s for sure, but she is still my mommy and I love her. Seeing her looking so small and fragile in the hospital bed made me tear up all over again. I scooted her over and curled up in the bed with her for the first hour or so we were there. When we left Sunday morning, I couldn’t hug her enough and emphasize how much I truly do love her.

This is a picture of my mommy in 10th grade. Sadly I don't have any pictrues of us together on hand. I took this one from a stash of my grandmother's pictures

This is a picture of my mommy in 10th grade. Sadly I don’t have any pictures of us together on hand. I took this one from a stash of my grandmother’s pictures

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A Sticky Mommy is Not A Happy Mommy

Who remembers this medicine disgused as bubble glum flavored deliciousness?!

Who remembers this medicine disguised as bubble glum flavored deliciousness?!

Did you know they don’t make amoxicillin in pink anymore?! It’s now white!! Which makes it way harder to clean up off your skin after you drop the bottle and it spills everywhere!!!!! 

Friday, we took Kase to the doctor. He has an ear infection. We can’t tell if the hand foot and mouth virus has shown up yet. He’s cutting two teeth, so the spots on his face could be from his pacy rubbing on his face and the drool and stuff. So we got a prescription for that bubble gum deliciousness pictured to the left. And just a few minutes ago I went to get Kase his first dose of antibiotics. He was laying in bed with my hubby, screaming because he’s been spoiled this past week, and while I was waiting for the water to get hot, I reached into the refrigerator to grab the medicine. Apparently, someone didn’t put the lid on all the way. So, when I picked it up, it spilled. All over the floor, and all over me. I was sticy from the top of my chest to my belly button. The only reason it didn’t go any farther is because I kept my hands against my shirt to keep it where it was. But, at least it was bubble gum and not something else disgusting.

So, I got the fun task of talking to a nurse and getting  a new bottle. Thankfully, it wasn’t a ruder nurse like I normally do. Have you guys ever noticed that nurses at hospitals are ridiculously rude?! Every single time I talk to someone at the hospital, I never get answers to my questions and I just get rude nurses that ar in a hurry to get off the phone. It’s so annoying . I unserstand there are patients waiting for you, but you also have a patient on the phone asking a question. Most of the time I’m calling about my kids.

Anyways. Sorry. I’m just stressed. How’s everyone else’s weekend going?!

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O Medicaid, How I Despise You……too…..




Medicaid in my state is called Arkids (Arkansas Kids. Cheesy right?) It’s government funded. And like almost anything the government does, its ridonculously complicated. Why? BECAUSE THEY CAN!!!  And getting anything done takes, ya know, however long they want. My oldest will be three in April. In the past almost three years I have almost pulled countless people through the phone, almost ripped their face off, and almost shoved said ripped off face down their throat. (This was of course after I almost pulled their head out of their ass.)

For medicaid, like any other insurance I’m sure, you have to assign a Primary Care Physician (PCP) to the child. The first time we had medicaid the hospital helped us me set it up. Because, as I had literally just turned 18 the day before, I had medicaid and it (somehow) automatically went to my son. (I think. I mean, I just had a long, thin tube stuck in my back, pushed a watermelon out in 15 minutes flat, and moved rooms like three times. The nurse could have been asking me to sign my soul over to the devil, which was basically what I did anyway, and I would have closed one eye, stuck my tongue out, and try really hard to sign on one of the two or three lines I saw in a semi legible scripts. Which is probably what I looked like signing it…) So the hospital told me to pick one of the doctors I had seen in the three days that I was there and that would be the PCP.

Then, according to the court, his daddy had to put my son on his insurance. Alright. No big deal. The surgery on his foot (story for another time) and for the tubes in his ears were paid for already so whatever. And I thought medicaid was hard to deal with…. The court decided his daddy needed to have insurance on him in June after he turned one. He got insurance  on him almost right away. Then it was cancelled and he didn’t have insurance for a good six months to a year. At which time I broke down and got him medicaid again.

Being the good mommy I am, I set up a PCP. At a totally different clinic than where he went when he was born. WIth a doctor I’d never met. Then my second son was born. And I set up a PCP for him. With a different doctor than my oldest. Across town. With a doctor I’d never met. Our first appointment with that doctor? Sat in the room with a fussy baby who got shots for three hours and forty-five minutes before the doctor ever came. After she walked past the door three times looking for his room. A 15 minute visit was all we got. Oh, and the doctor informed me that I was doing things wrong and treated me like an incompetent child. This same doctor proceeded to misdiagnose my child during later visits. Another doctor looked in his ears and said “I don’t think he had an ear infection. I couldn’t really get a good look in one ear but the other looks fine.”

Excuse me.

You don’t think my son has an ear infection….

“No, but if he gets a fever or anything, come back.”



I’m sure you are staring at your computer screen right now with the same look I gave the doctor and trying not to do a face palm. And you are probably wondering why in the heck I haven’t changed doctors. Well. It’s government funded so everything has to be hard Including assigning and changing a doctor.

You see, only certain doctors take medicaid and they only take a certain amount of said medicaid patients. Once they reach their limit, they don’t take any more. So, of course, since the universe hates me and all, every. Single. Doctor. I want, in my county, has a full case load. I can call everyday and check if I wanted. Why don’t I call every day and check you ask? Simple, my friend, very simple. I spend an average of five minutes on hold after listening to the automated voice list menu options. For three minutes. And I mean really, who had time for that crap?!




And if you didn’t realize how ridiculous my current doctor’s office and medicaid is, let me reiterate it for ya.

Back story.

I’m trying to get my oldest into a free program at a daycare called the ABC program. For this I need a hearing test and physical. Along with some other paper work. Physical, you say, no problem. WRONG!! That is all explained here. Hearing and eye test for a 2 year old? is probably your next question. Really? Yes, dear reader, really. Really, really. So guess what time it is?! REFERRAL TIME!! Woot woot! ……………………just kidding.

Eye test? Scheduled. No referral. No problem!

Hearing test? Act of friggin Congress!!


I call his current doctor and tell them I need a referral for a hearing test. Well. They can’t just hand out referrals because that would be to easy. And there has to be a reason. Um…it’s for daycare. Not a good enough reason. Ok. He has tubes in his ears and he need them checked. Ok. They can do that. Awesome! (This was yesterday.) Ready to get confuzzled??

(Today.) I call the ear, nose, and throat clinic to see if they got the referral. Nope. Ok. Back to the doctor’s office. Well they can’t write a referral because they aren’t the clinic that wrote the referral for the tubes in the first place. Alright. I call the doctor’s office that wrote the original referral. They can’t write the referral because they aren’t the PCP. The ear, nose, and throat clinic has to have a referral or I have to pay for the visit. Which costs anywhere from $150 to $300. Crazy right? It gets crazier, just wait.

So I call the daycare that hosts the program. The director tells me to just have the doctor’s office write a letter sating they can’t/won’t write a referral. Ok. No prob! Wrong, yet again. The doctor’s office can’t/won’t write a letter saying they can’t/won’t write a referral. Why? Because they just don’t do that. After hearing this I proceed to tell the nurse that if it wasn’t the for medicaid, I wouldn’t fo to that office because it was worst on I have ever dealt with.
(In the end the director simply had me write a letter a letter and told me to get it notarized.)

But, I mean really, does getting this stuff really need to be an act of God? Do I need to have the great man Himself come down and tell you my kid needs this stuff? Or do I need to get Congress to pass a law? Oh….wait….. They would never agree on anything. Maybe I just need to change my skin color…. Apparently I’m the wrong color to get help…. Hmmm…. What to do, what to do…






**The above statement is in no way, shape, or form, meant to be rude or racist. Just stating a fact.**


A Day in My Mind

So in my about me section I said that I was diagnosed with depression during my junior year of high school, which was in 2008, but I didn’t really elaborate anymore than that. Well. Now I am.

I feel like I should explain a little of what happened before I was diagnosed:

My parents had divorced in February of my freshmen year, which was in 2006. During their fighting and problems and finally the divorce, I would stress out to the point where I would literally be throwing up. It was to the point that my dad took me to the doctor. Once my doctor explained what was going on it was easier to control. After the divorce my mom married a crap guy, which increased the stress (no more throwing up though) and caused more fighting. To the point that I was pushed down a hallway and, as a result had a busted vein on the front side of my arm and a scar near my elbow. Luckily that was all that happened during that fight and the arguments that occurred after.

After about eight months, my mom found out what a crap guy my step dad was and moved us to Little Rock, Arkansas where a lot of my family lived. I fell in with the wrong crowd while there and almost flushed my dreams down the drain. Thankfully, after everything, my dad realized if he didn’t step in, things would just get worse and worse. So he moved me back to the town I grew up in.

Here’s where the depression really starts to show:

My dad is a loud person. Plain and simple. He talks loud, he laughs loud, he commands attention loudly, he even works in a loud place. (He’s a diesel mechanic, hence the loudness.) But when I started crying just because he raised his voice a mere octave above his norm, he and my step mom thought something was wrong. At first the thought it was just because it was that time of the month. But when it was happening two and three weeks before and after, something just wasn’t adding up. The final straw was when I was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with my laundry basket balling my eyes out before school just because I couldn’t find the shirt I wanted to wear to work that night. Some days, if I wasn’t crying, I was yelling at everyone and getting royally pissed off at everything that moved. When I explained what was going on to my doctor, she put me on an anti-depressant called Lexipro. It was later changed to Zoloft due to being pregnant with my first child.*

I no longer take medicine for my anxiety and depression. It’s rough sometimes. and I have my good days and bad days. Sometimes, I still break down crying because I can’t find what I need or because I just can’t handle being yelled at. Most days are okay. Many times, though, I find myself struggling to keep a level head and not scream and yell at everything. Recently, a therapist told me that the screaming and yelling is how young adults express the feelings. Which makes a lot of sense, as most days I will start screaming and be mad at the world for hours, just to turn around and start crying because I feel bad for yelling.

But I’m getting a little off track. The point of this post, like most people who have depression and write about it, is to let those people who are overwhelmed and don’t know what to do that it’s okay. You aren’t alone. There is someone going through close to or, sometimes, the exact same thing that you are. If you need help please reach out and ask someone. Yes. It’s very hard to ask, sometimes I even have trouble talking to my dad, step mom, and my husband about what’s going on. But there is someone who can help. Trust me. Just ask. And know that everything is going to be okay.

So. If some melancholy or sad or not up beat and happy posts pop up on here, I’m having a bad day. Everything will work out but I’m having a day. I thank you in advance for your understanding and support.

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