Friday, January 06, 2006

My poor little girl...

Pooteewheet has a post about the nasty thing my daughter Eryn has adopted. Honestly, just gross. And I have to say I feel incredibly bad that after the doctor's appointment, I had to go back to work and check my health care plan to determine what the impact was going to be. With Pooteewheet setting up her own therapy practice (anyone with PTSD or in need of EMDR, or just in need of therapy is free to contact her), and my company switching to "design your own" insurance two Decembers ago, the intersection of health care and outflow of savings was a bit worrisome. No danger of losing the house or anything - just a different issue than it might have been a year ago. I will admit, I looked up the trauma and details first, before insurance information; I'm not a monster.

While it might require surgery and stitches on the lip to get rid of her bump, I have to say that when she's 16, she'll probably be giddy with delight that it happened now and not then. I picture a breakup with the boyfriend over the gross lip pimple if she were 16, and way more crying than a bit of gas and a blade/liquid nitrogen/laser now.

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