My mom is livid with her brother over this whole situation (I remind her that no one knew the stepson was coming down with the virus) because he can't seem to tell her whether or not the "spots" are blistered or not. He just says they look like little mosquito bites (he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he means well). This being day 3, some of them should be crusting over by now if they truly are the pox marks, but for all we know, they could be flea bites from their dog if they look the way he describes them! So my mom got the number to their pediatrician today and called over to light a fire under someone's back end since her brother said he couldn't get through to the doctor (and now she thinks he didn't bother to listen to the phone menu options and hung up -- he can be such a Homer sometimes). Anyway, she let them know it was imperative we know whether or not the stepson is contagious and that her grandson's surgery is hanging in the balance and he's got Crohn's and do you people know what that means, yada, yada, yada. I had to laugh at her flair for the melodramatic!
The urologist's scheduler said she can hold our spot on the 11th for a couple of days, so hopefully we'll get the final word soon. Twenty-one days from exposure is the max the virus is ever known to appear. Our pharmacist felt that after 5 days on the antiviral and watching for a week he should be in the clear if nothing happens.
I'm just feeling very WHAT.EH.VER. over all of it. Just reschedule it for the 18th and I'll hold my breath he doesn't come down with the bug between now and then. It's just all so ridiculous at this point.
Oh, and I came down to take my medications (it's 1am here) and my little bladder-pod-person aka difficult child 1 is sitting with headphones on intently watching an internet porn video on MY COMPUTER!!!
that apparently I'd forgotten to change the time block settings on... either that or he figured out how to get through MY login screen to change the parental controls. Some days I just want to scream and then kick his scrawny butt all the way down the street. He doesn't know it, but he's just lost the use of a whooole bunch of his favorite things for the rest of this week... maybe longer.