If you have a minute

Spare a thought for Squishy this afternoon. We’re off to Westmead hospital for his hearing test. I have no idea what is involved, and they are always lovely at the children’s hospital, but he is old enough now to completely. lose. his. shit. when anyone he doesn’t know tries to touch him. I suppose his over medicalised past is coming back to haunt us.

Anyway, I have a bag full of food that (hopefully) will distract him for long enough to get the test done.

Hellooooooo

CBHH-09OOJIU BVT 09iuhgv

That was Inigo’s post for yesterday, but silly me forgot to post it.

I was at an ABA conference (training) all weekend, so I neglected to blog except for the scheduled posts. On the upside, I did get signed off on 2 and a half units, so it was a really worthwhile weekend. Not to mention catching up with a whole lot of amazing and inspiring women! I had been feeling really down about my training, and even considered giving up.

But now I am re-energised (emotionally, physically I am still a wreck), and keen to power along to the finish line 🙂

Feedback

Sometimes, it’s really, really nice to be told that you look like shit.

Ordinarily, that might be the sort of thing that makes a person feel a bit self-conscious. But tonight, when a dear friend gave me a hug and got me a chair, I felt nurtured, cared for, and validated.

I feel like shit. Today, a pharmacist (at the ABA conference) told me that the iron tablets I’ve been given won’t do anything except make me constipated. Apparently, unless you take chelated iron, it passes through your system without being absorbed. Hooray.

Silly me was hoping a few days of supplements were going to make me feel dramatically better, but so far, I still feel like crap.

And look it too, apparently.

APMAIF

The World Health Organisation International Code of Marketing of Breast-milk Substitutes, article 5.5 prohibits seeking direct and indirect contact with mothers of infants and young children, that is children up to 3 years of age. UNICEF has previously stated that: “any form of contact with mothers of children under 3 years is prohibited, irrespective of the motivation behind the contact.”

If you get a free sample of an artificial baby milk, or are invited to join a branded “club” (as is being widely advertised with prize giveaways at the moment), you are witnessing a violation of an international code that is designed to save lives.

The APMAIF is a regulatory body that is designed to oversee the marketing of artificial baby milks in Australia. If you see a breach of the code, you should report it to the APMAIF, and they should follow up and stop the breach, and punish the offender.

But the APMAIF is an industry body. It is made up of all the companies themselves, and they have absolutely no desire to follow up on breaches of the code. The lunatics have taken over they asylum, and are handing out happy pills.

So next time you see formula on special, or grab a parenting magazine with a formula sample in it, complain to your local member. The APMAIF won’t do anything about it.

A conversation with Inigo

Inigo is wandering the house with a small bowl of sultanas, muttering, “‘tanas, ‘tanas, ‘tanas”.

I ask him, “Can Mama have a sultana?”, holding out my hand.

He nods, placing a single sultana in my hand.  “One”, he says.

“May I have another one?”.

“Two”, he says, as I get another sultana.

“Another one?”

“Three”, a third sultana is placed in my hand.

I am happy that he is so generous with the precious sultanas, thrilled that he can count so well.  I decide to push my luck in both areas.

“May I have another one?”

“No”.  Apparently that was a step too far, in the generosity department, still not sure about the counting!

Thoughtful Thursday

The thought for today is……

…..I have no idea what day it is.

Thanks Fe.

Terribly distracted by the Dr saga.

The Lovely Sarah let me know about a local doc that’s really good.  So good, in fact, that he is not taking on any new patients, and his receptionist can afford to be a toxic bitch to a woman on the edge.

Red told me about a local doctor, but I was too lazy to look up the phone number.  Well, actually, Inigo was going nuts at my attention being divided, so I had to get it done quick.  Also, I kind of like the idea of making an appointment and seeing the dr on time.  I’ve spent so long waiting in waiting rooms in the last 2 years, I can do without it.

So I’ve got Parramatta, and Celia’s Lindfield surgery up my sleeve 🙂

Miss Fe let me know about her favourite doc, as did Min, so I rang, and though I can’t get in to see the head honcho, an underling will deign to see me, and then I can switch to her after my initial ($100) consultation.

At least we’ve hit our Medicare rebate threshold for the year, so we’ll get most of that back.  And if I’m paying that much, I’m pretty sure he’ll listen to me for a few minutes.  He might even talk to me!

Bloody Doctors!

With the exception of highly valued friends, who are currently practicing medicine in the UK, and anyone who I haven’t seen in a professional capacity since I moved to Granville, but I am currently really pissed of with the Bulk Billing GP species.

Again I am dealing with dueling diagnoses.  It’s not glandular fever, Grouchy Granville GP confirmed that with a blood test.

I have Iron Deficiency.

Which he told me by printing off a script, telling me I needed iron tablets, and practically shoving me out the door.  I haven’t had low iron EVER in my life, no matter how horrible my diet, or what I did to myself (night clubbing all night, living on boiled rice, mars bars and beer….).  So this is a) a bit of a shock, and b) something I feel like I need a bit more information about.

Like – how low was my result?  Am I really deficient and at risk of anemia, or do I just need to eat more spinach and kiwi fruit?  Like – should I stop giving blood for a while?  Are the iron tablets made of animal products?  Because I think I’d rather have a steak than a tablet if I’m going to be killing a cow anyway.  And how about how long it will take till I feel better.  Maybe – is there an underlying cause that bears some investigation?

And maybe – how the hell can I find a GP that actually gives a shit about my health?

Here is a picture of a small boy eating a banana on the roof of a car.

BananaBoy