my continuing adventures of being on the defensive

In an effort to stop the mad amounts of the Dude’s ear infections, I took him to a chiropractor this morning.  Lovely lady, she made him giggle.

Not that it’s hard to do,  but still cute to observe.

She asked a few questions about his health in his brief 6 months, including one of my favorites to be asked: “Have you been nursing him?”

“No.”

“Oh… no… why??  That’s really bad.”

I love that answer.  I do.  I could have left it, but you what?  Thanks to Morgan, (THANK YOU!!!) I know it’s not me making something up.  I’m not crazy.  “It’s called Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex.  My let-down triggers psychotic episodes.”

She wasn’t as dismissive or judgemental when I explained it, but she did suggest letting someone look at my neck because that might solve it all up lickety split.  Wacky chiropractors.

I know it’s the nectar of the gods, people.  I don’t need convincing.  I just need to be locked up in a padded room if I do it for the protection of myself and my family.  Good golly.

But thanks to Morgain, it did feel good to have a label.  I was treated a tiny bit less like an insane hypochondriac for once, and that was cool.

And the Dude adored getting felt up and cracked around.  He’s such a Dude.