Do I have a story for you today...

Okay, here we go. Let me take you through yesterday almost moment by moment.

Firstly, the reason that I had to come into work this Holi-frikkin-day weekend was due to the client changing what was one of the “preferred” components for the project that we are working on to something that was not designed or studied yet. So Sunday and Monday were shot due to this whim of the client. Habitual Client Whimsy (HCW) has been an issue with this project from the onset, so this should not surprise me. HCW seems to occur most often surrounding the holiday weekends and upcoming meetings.

Secondly, Sunday late night it was clear that the little one was developing a cold. When an asthmatic child develops a cold, there is always the chance that the cold will turn to something worse, and quickly. Needless to say, a bit of concern was leveled at my kid’s health. Boy, he is a snot factory! Simply amazing, the amounts of mucous membrane the boy can produce is astounding.

Anyway… yesterday starts with an email to the client asking if we can change back to using the component that was discarded due to the previous HCW. This simple little e-mail just invalidated 10 hours of work from the weekend by me, and I have no idea how much work that the roadway guys spent on Saturday. Thank you Mr. Client, may I have another?

Now I am in the peachiest of moods and re-working this component into the final drawing. I am unhappy and considering replying to the e-mail with a scathing response, cleaning out my desk and walking out due to the subsequent firing, but I decide that I like the current level of income I have and would eventually like more. So, no scathing response, but I was close…

When I dropped the little one off at the caregivers, I mentioned that they had to give him breathing treatments ever 4 hours and that if they felt he needed to have a “breathy” earlier than 4 hours they should call me so I can see if he needs doctorin’. I imagine it was around 12:30 in the afternoon when I got the call from the caregivers. I think to myself, “Shit, shit, shit,, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, (I have a cursey mind) this is not the week for the little one to get sick (as if there is a week that would be good for little one to be sick).” Turns out the little one has not turned a corner to worsening his condition, but, instead the healthier of the two surrogate grandparents that watch the little one has some sort of rash. So I leave to pick up little one as fast as I can, Grandpa R is going to be admitted into the hospital. Scary indeed. I pick up little one, and while I am gathering up his stuff, Grandma D asked Grandpa R to show me the rash. This involves me seeing way too much of Grandpa R’s legs to be comfortable due to the dropping of trau. The disturbingness of seeing grandpa dropping trau aside, the rash was absolutely horrid. It was a deep purple with angry red edges that ran from the inside of his thigh back around and down his hamstring, and it developed from a bug bite-ish problem to a leg covering in less than 4 hours.

Anyway… I get the little one and take him back to work with me so I can feed him while the wife’s mom comes over to get him. He eats a big old bowl of paella, damn he gets good meals sometimes, and we visit with some of my co workers, until the mom and I can exchange cars (more on this to come).

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, I get a call from the caregiver sans rash, Grandma D, if you will. Grandpa R is being taken to surgery to investigate whether the rash has been caused by Necrotizing Fasciitis, aka, get this… Flesh Eating Bacteria. FLESH EATING BACTERIA!!!! FLESH FUCKIN’ EATING FUCKING BACTERIA!!!!!!! Er… umm… fucking. My little boy has potentially been exposed to FLESH FUCKIN’ EATING FUCKING BACTERIA while his immune system was already partially compromised. I am beside myself now. Absolutely disassociated, hovering about 2 feet from my body looking around thinking, “WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!!?” I came back to myself fairly quickly, collected myself and called my wife. I tell her about this wonderful predicament we are in, and we both start heading home after tying up loose ends.

So now I am driving home in my mother-in-laws deathtrap of a car. It is a Ford Escort, and I am afraid that it has decided to escort me to the afterlife. The brakes are bad, it handles like a wounded fish. The abysmal condition of the vehicle does nothing to abate my mood and worry about the little one. I have not known him long enough to want to get rid of him just yet. I think that will come in about 11 years from now. He is currently almost 2. Yeah, 13 sounds about right. Both the wife and I get home and look little one over left and right, top and bottom, and there does not seem to be anything untowards going on with his biology other than the asthma, raging food allergies, and common cold. We both breathe signs of relief and make sure we have an appointment set up with our ped. The nurse from the ped’s office assures us that nothing is all that pressing or immediate and that tomorrow morning should be fine for the appointment. We breathe another sigh of relief. The nurse calls back to say that we should enter through the practice’s back door, instead of through their sick entrance. The wife and I tense up again.

It is not until around 6:30 that we get another call from Grandma D. Turns out Grandpa R has Cellulitus and not the necrotizing whosey-what’s-it. Cellulitus is not soooo bad as Flesh Eating Bacteria. Another sigh of relief, followed by a crumpling into the fetal position.

Other than the little one’s cold, which makes him sleep like a newborn (wakes up ever 2 hours and cries) all I have to worry about now is the shit-ton of work that has to get done now. So, enough about my day, how are you guys doing?

Anyway… to recap

Work done this holiday weekend was un-necessary
Little one has a cold
Habitual Client Whimsy is not a good thing
Ugly rash or not, I wish I did not see that much of Grandpa’s legs. Shudder
I wish I had paella for lunch.
My mother-in-law’s car is attempting to escort me to Hell.
It is just cellulitis. Merely cellulitis. Only cellulitis.
Cellulitis is still not a good thing.
I am tired, and I have much to do before I sleep.