It's a bird, it's a plane, it's HIVE Girl!

My daughter has discovered her new hidden talent. She can break herself out into a rash/hives at a whim. For example, on Sunday night I sent her to bed with the silly notion that she was going to go to school the next day. Within a tantrum and an hour, she was covered head to toe in a angry red rash. Gee. That's different. Off to the ER we go! She was looked over by the doctor, and we, the parents, were patted condescendingly on the head while he ordered a dose of Benadryl large enough to sedate and elephant. It then took 2 parents and a nurse to hold her down while another nurse administered the medication while my daughter fought and hissed like a trapped cat. (In case you didn't catch that, she hates to take medication.) We gathered ourselves and left the hospital all the while the little girl was chirping about wanting McDonalds (at 2am) so we went to the one down the road from the ER and within the time it takes to order and get to the window, the meds kicked in and she passed out. Eh...leftover nuggets heat well.

So Monday, which due to Tropical Storm Fay, was the second first day, was a wash as far as getting to school. No big deal. She can go Tuesday. (BWAHAHAHA)

Since my lovely child has odd sleeping habits, she went to bed on Monday night with no problems and no fight, only to wake up at 2AM with the notion that it was time to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed and torture the sleepy mommy with the pestering insistence that it was time to watch SpongeBob. Because I didn't comply in my half awake state, she decided to play with the buttons on the alarm clock. Joy.

We woke up late enough in the morning to miss the bus, so I packed her up and drove her to school. She pulled the usual song and dance on me of protesting with all of her little bodily might. Complete tantrum and breakdown about how she didn't want to go to school. Some anonymous woman walked up to my child and addressed her by name, the gave me a puzzled look and asked who I was. (Thoughts of smart-assed comments about having kidnapped her, having second thoughts, and now I am giving her back, crossed my mind but this lady didn't look like she would be able to mentally process that well.) She AND I proceeded to drag my child into the school where a third teacher jumped into the fray to take over my spot trying to wrestle the wild animal into the classroom. I turned and left, thoughts of a sausage egg McMuffin dancing in my head. I was just about to squawk into the box when my phone rang. Since my cell NEVER rings, I knew there was trouble. It was FCB. He wanted to place his order for breakfast, oh and by the way, the school called and your daughter has been kicked to the nurse for having WELTS on her arms.

HERE WE GO AGAIN!

So I drove back to school. Walked right into the school (love the security there) and to the nurse's office. The same nurse that last year gave me so much grief with her calls to get confidential medical information from my child's doctor to her "abuse concerns" over a sticker placed on my child's arm. I see Punk laying on the little clinic bed...all cozy with her arms folded over her body, and an oddly smug look on her face as if to say, "I could get used to this skipping school thing." I gently reminded (while biting my tongue) the nurse that my child had sensitive skin and was born with out skin in the first place, plus she had pulled the hive thing on us a couple days ago. The nurse looked at me and plain as day stated that with the new school year all issues have to be readdressed. Plus she said she was concerned because my daughter had large red welts on her arms. I looked at her and I said, "Oh yeah? Where? I don't see them."

She got up from her desk and came around to look at my daughter, and sure enough, no redness. No welts. No rash. Talented little Punk, no? The nurse stammered about how they were there, and she was just doing what the teacher told her. I said that the teacher should have know better since the teacher was the one that caused the welts in the first place. I then collected my daughter and left. Mumbling under my breath the entire time. Off to McD's.

Upon returning home, eating breakfast and calling the pediatrician, I had to pack it all up again and take my kid to the doctor at "sick time" while she is completely healthy. This meant that whatever nasty little bugs the other rug rats that were there had, I would sure be symptomatic by tomorrow. (Having a shitty immune system sucks when you have a small child.) The doctor looked her over and asked me why I had brought her. I reminded him of all the wonderful skin and school issues of last year and he rolled his eye while he wrote a note and a script. Then he asked me if we could do a little experiment on my child. Sure. Whatever. He said, "I'm going to let you do this so she will let me touch her afterwards." Heh. He then directed me to pinch her arm, scratch her arm, rub her arm, used the little hammer to rub her arm, and put some soap, and some hand sanitizer on her arm. She wasn't happy. But sure enough...welts and red marks as well as the beginning of hives.

The official diagnosis is Contact Dermatitis. Basically meaning a reaction to anything or everything that contacts her skin. This is going to be such a fun school year. Yeah. Right.

So on the way home from the doc, I bought Benadryl, and took the medication and the documentation back to the school nurse. Walked right into the school at midday. Great security there. Signed a form and left the goods. Now I have the blessing to send my child to school again. Yay. (Can ya feel all the love I have for this school at this point?)

So tomorrow is another day. Let's hope we have dispensed with all the drama right from the start this time. I am even giving the bus another shot this year in an attempt to save gas. Let's hope they don't lose her again this year.

Now if you will excuse me I am going to go knock on wood by banging my head on my desk.