Zum Inhalt springen

A series of unfortunate events

Just a series of unfortunate coincidences and just by chance they are all connected to Mr.M.

The series begins in September. Mr. M. took our daughter for a holiday. On the third day I received a message which said nothing else but “I need a photo of our child’s insurance card.” So that left me to ask him what had happened? He did not find it in his responsibility to inform me about the problem no, of course not it has to suffice that he wants a photo! So in the end I was told that my child had a broken arm.

She came back home with a splint and Mr. M. claimed that the doctor had told him everything would be fine in three week. Nothing else. I asked if he had any instructions to look at the arm in xy days or if there was anything that should be considered. No. Nothing. The doctor only said: Three weeks.

Yes of course. Your child breaks her right arm and you don’t have a single care in the world about it. You act as if she hadn’t done anything more than scrape her knee. In his brain that seemed to make perfect sense.

I watched the situation with the splint for one week and I found it very odd. My child is wild and did not seem to care much about the arm. She ran and fell and waved about one time she even almost stretched the arm and then yelled in pain. In my opinion that was absolutely not how it should be. So I went to the hospital with her. Guess what I was told there? They took off the splint immediately and gave my child a real and stable plastered arm. I was explained that a splint is only in the first few days in case of a swelling and afterwards you normally make a cast, especially for children. Our pediatrician said the same.

So in the end, if I had listened to that shitty explanation of Mr. M. I would have waited for three weeks and if she would live with him he would have done nothing but wait three weeks and watched her move her broken arm?

About one week after that, my daughter had her fresh cast. He took her to the fair that was in town. The year before he did that too and the year before I explicitly wrote him a text to NOT go where the tunnel of horror is situated. I told him to stay far away from that thing, because she would most definitely be afraid. This year I did not spell it out for him. Of course my girl came home and told me about nothing else then bloody heads and skeletons and horrible, horrible things. She talked about it for days on end and she told my almost every morning that she had a dream about blood, and skeletons and other thing.

I confronted him but the only answer was: But the tunnel of horror was close to the slide and it could not be avoided. Of course. I hope it was worth a few nightmares….

Let’s go a few days further, maybe one week. Mr. M had her over the weekend and this time he did not bring her back on Sunday evening but he brought her to kindergarten on Monday morning.

Two things happened. First, our daughter has swimming lessons on Mondays. They fetch the children directly from the kindergarten and bring them back where the parents wait for them at 5pm. The day before I told Mr. M word for word, to pack her cap into the swimming bag because it is very cold and windy and she has to put the cap on after swimming. I explained him that our daughter would never ever remember to take the cap to swimming by herself ergo it has to go into the bag. I told him that about three times. What did he do? Well I think it is enough to tell you that I found the cap in the changing room of the kindergarten and not on my daughter’s head.

After I had picked her up and we were already on our way home. Stuck in traffic at about 5.30 pm I looked at her and discovered that she had an inflammation as big as a pea above her front tooth. It was a very round, very large round ball. So I immediately called the dentist who told me I Had 30 minutes to get to him. I turned around and rushed to the doctors. Not in a million years can you tell me that this kind of massive fistula was not detectable the day before or in the morning!

Sei der Erste der einen Kommentar abgibt

Schreibe einen Kommentar

Deine E-Mail-Adresse wird nicht veröffentlicht. Erforderliche Felder sind mit * markiert.