Of (Wo)men and Mites

Yesterday I saw an allergist.

VERY early on in the process.

I've been sneezey and itchy and have been forced to make a too many trips to the pharmacy for antibiotics lately. Allergies, was the suggested culprit over and over again. So I made the appointment. Well, I made three appointments, cancelling the first two. 1.5 of the cancellations was conflict. .5 was fear.

I was a little bit right on the .5.

The doctor was fantastic. Snarky, self-depreciating, and no non-sense. My favorite medical combination.

But, the arm pricks, and follow up syringe injections? Not so great.

And after 40 minutes of excruciating itching the verdict was in.

* Ragweed & weeds in general
* Mold
* Dust mites

Super. But at least I know what I am itchy/sneezey now.

Bad Medicine

This picture was supposed to be part of a completely different post.

One full of glory and self-indulgent satisfaction. Instead, it is part of a story about Bad Medicine.

******************

We were sick far more days in December than we were healthy. In fact, I'd be surprised if out of the 4 of us, there was more than 4-5 days without headaches, coughing, runny noses or antibiotics. Such is the life with two small children in daycare I suppose, but still. Blah. It was horrible.

All through the month, Clare's teacher, formerly Grace's teacher, kept lecturing me on the healing powers of lemongrass. Specifically the concoction of lemongrass, ginger, lemon and honey. She swore by it as a instantaneous cold remedy*, and who was I to argue. I was the one with the lingering colds.
* She did always slide in that 12-13 hours of sleep was required too. Super. I'll get right on that.

So upon the decent of our first January colds, she sent me up to the Latino Market minutes away from my work. I stocked up on enough lemongrass, ginger and some superfluous dried lavender flowers to keep in in business for weeks. When I got home on Friday night, I dutifully pulled out my 5 quart soup pot and stuffed it full of the reeds, roots and water. Matt complained that the house smelled like hippies, but I was undeterred. I bragged on Facebook. I was so pleased with my homeopathic therapies and was convinced of the healing effect they would have.

Sunday morning, Clare had dark rings around the bottom of her eyes. Weird. The cold must be wearing her down too, poor baby.

Sunday night, the dark rings had turning into little pink spots with matching accessories on her forehead. WEIRD. Huh, a good night's sleep will make it go away, right?

Monday morning, she looked like this:

HOLY SHIT!!!! She's having an allergic reaction to something. I combed my head to try and think of what she's eaten that's new. Nothing. Absolutely nothing........

But she is a breastfed baby.......

And I drank 2lbs of lemongrass extract on Friday night and Saturday, something she's never had before.......

And OH MY GOD I'M POISONING MY BABY!!!!
(OK, I know it's not poison, but still- she is clawing at her own flesh and her whole body is covered in a horrible rash.)

And the Doctor scratched her head and said she'd never heard of anyone being allergic to lemongrass before, but it definitely looks like an allergic reaction so lets give her some heavy doses of Benadryl and see if it goes away - and by the way - lets look in Grace's ears while she is here why yes, she seems to have another bad ear infection to boot so lets do another round of antibiotics.

But does Grace mind? Not one bit. Because it means she gets to play with the train table for a little bit longer along with getting dum dums pulled out of her ears and Elmo stickers.

24 hours later, Clare seems to have faded back down to her normal peaches-and-cream complexion, as opposed to the giant strawberry she was sporting, and smiling as though nothing had ever happened.

Moments

Friday I had a plan. It was a five-days-in-the-making rant about how I'm either a horrible mother or Gracie is a horrible two year old or that we are somehow equal in our terribleness and not fit to call each other by our titles: mother and daughter.

It had been a rough week filled with tears (on both ends) and temper tantrums (on both ends). My whole hearted attempts to follow Matt's sage advice failed. To just slow down to her pace and if things take longer, then so be it. I was trying so hard, except nothing was changing except the fact that we were now adding over an hour onto our days. Which meant we ate a lot of frozen pizza for dinner last week.

But instead of writing a much more in depth account of the happenings of the week Friday morning, I mothered: I cleaned up puke and I changed more liquid diapers than should be allowed.

It is funny what a grounding and centering thing caring for a truly sick child is. I would take her pain and discomfort upon myself 100 times over to spare her the slightest pain, but it is in those pretense free moments at 3am that your remember your calling. And that she does indeed need you, wrapped in your arms in a search for comfort.

Then 24 hours later after doses of Tylenol, kiddie Pepto-Bismo and dozens of freeze pops with only 1/4 eaten before melting, she is fine. Happy. Giddy over the prospect of riding with daddy on the big choo choo train from Baltimore to DC for their 36 hour date.

And I am left to reflect on her new found health as I am curled into a ball, clutching my own stomach for a new 24 hour period and wondering how I am going to keep down food that I know her little sister needs me to eat.

Such is the life of a parent. Such is the life of a mother. And every moment is worth it.

Choices

My days have been moving at the speed of light. My nights have turned to molasses.

Gracie is sick. Again.

She is breathing shallow and sounds like Darth Vader. Yesterday we fought this with an abundance of hot chocolate and she seemed better. Last night, she slept in 45 minute increments and sounded like she had a marble lodged into her airway. I slept, but only on the brink with an eye half open and both ears on alert. Normally I am not one to worry, but the rasping…

Today we are back to the speed of light again. I have a 9am meeting, where I am the meeting, followed by a full day of pokes and prods and a belly full of goo at John’s Hopkins to check on V2. I cannot miss it. Matt has some similar meeting at 10:30am. He cannot miss it.

So we sent our child to school. A little less raspy, but sporting a low grade fever. I feel horrible about it and am calling to get an afternoon sick appointment with Dr. H today.

She, on the other hand, seems absolutely fine with the arrangement. You see, she knows the game and finagled a bribe of 2 gummy bear vitamins, an M&M, part of my bagel and 4 mini pancakes all in exchange for taking a does of Tylenol.

Come to think of it, I think her bargaining attitude puts her well enough to attend school today.

Around and Around We Go

It’s never ending. Our cycle of ick and germs and illness. Just as soon as one of us gets better and I start to relax we pull the Sorry card getting sent back to Go.

I was celebrating this morning. I took my 5th, and final, azithromycin pill to help play defense to the 10 days of amoxicillin I’d gulped down previous to that.

All because I insisted I wasn’t sick and that we should still go back to Chicago.

Last Friday, after what should have been a soothing lunch of my favorite Olive Garden soup, salad and breadsticks, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like my throat was so raw from coughing that it was going to seize right up and stop working all together. So I broke and called my doctor. Bless her, she saw me that afternoon.

I can’t see anything wrong, she told me, but after 10 days of antibiotics you should feel 100%. You must still have some infection rattling around in your lungs. Here, take this. The z-pack will kill anything else that has gotten comfy in there. You should be fine in a couple of days.

And I am. So I relaxed and danced a little jig in my head this morning with my last pill.

That was at 6 am.

At 9 am things changed.

It’s never good when you see the daycare number pop up on your caller ID.

The thick French accent on the other end of the line told me: Umm, I was just changing Grace’s diaper and noticed her eye looks a little funny. You need to come get her. She has the pink in eye.

Huh? She what?

Her eye. It has the pink. Like Louis’ did. You need to come get her, she has to go home because she is contagious.

Huh? Then it dawned on me. PINK EYE! Son of a ….. Daycare germs strike again!

Umm, except those 5 days off 2 weeks ago? That left me exactly -1.5 annual and -24 sick in the negative. I can’t leave. Matt is stuck on sick duty.

Today’s visit to Dr. H turned out to be a good thing because she really is sick. Not only does she have the start of conjunctivitis, but like her mom, has the remnants of that ear infection still rattling around in there. Eye drops every 4 hours (fun!) and another round of antibiotics.

So Matt has gathered all his strength and is home with our sick child for the next 24 hours. Except, I’m sure if you could ask her, she’s really not sick. She feels fine. So instead of being home with a sick child that sleeps and snuggles, he is home with a highly contagious caged beast that is mad that she isn’t at school running around with her friends.

Good times, good times. Wish us luck.

Ádh na nÉireannach (Luck of the Irish)

When I went back to work today, one of Grace’s daycare teachers commented, “Huh, I thought only little kids got ear infections!”

Yeah, so did I lady.

Let me start from the beginning.

I had made plans to fly back to Chicago with Grace this past weekend to attend the South Side Saint Patrick’s Day Parade. It always makes my mom’s eyes twinkle when she talks about my picture, the quintessential daddy-daughter of me on top of my dad’s shoulders at the parade, being on the front page of a Southtown years ago. It was family tradition growing up and one I wanted to share with Grace.

Last Wednesday though, the phone calls started. I was away from my desk and told daycare to try my cell if they couldn’t find me. When I came back into a reception area, I had 7 messages. One every 15 minutes. At 2:15pm her fever was 100.5. By 3:45 she was up to 102.3. I felt horrible listening to the panicked phone calls from the daycare teachers.

Thursday morning I took Gracie to see Dr. H. Double ear infection. She’ll be better in 24-48 hours, just in time to fly back to Chicago.

Friday, Grace went to school. I stayed home. I was run down and spiking my own low fever. If I stay home today, I can just sleep it off and be all better Saturday morning I kept telling myself. Oh, and did I sleep. 19 of the 24 hours my eyes were shut.

I still felt bad Saturday morning, but got on the plane anyway. Promises had been made. Schedules rearranged. Leave taken.

When we landed in Chicago I had a fever of 99.9, but went house hunting with my brother. By the time we were done, my fever was 102.1. I was so tired I couldn’t think straight much less make plans for the next day.

So there it was. No parade. No green beer. No bagpipes. No throngs of South Side Irish (a few generations removed from the boat) singing and celebrating in one big green obnoxious mess.

*Sigh* Why did I come again?

Sunday was more of the same. I battled fever and fatigue while Gracie refused to nap.

As soon as I got home Monday afternoon, I went straight to the urgent care center to get checked out. You know it’s bad when the doctor gasps when she looks in your ears.

Diagnosis? The worst double ear infection she’s seen in ages with a case of strep throat to top it off. Oh- and don’t be kissing on your baby or planning to go to work for the next 48 hours she warned. Your highly contagious.

Ah – so it would be a bad thing if I had just spent the weekend around someone who is immune depressed, huh?

In my head, I kept thinking 'Ádh na nÉireannach'. Luck of the Irish my arse.

You’d better believe that I choked down a Guinness on St Patrick’s Day though. I didn't enjoy it, but this illness isn't going to take EVERYTHING from me.

The *Smack* Down

Last Monday is was freezing with a half foot of snow falling onto the ground.

This Monday I ate lunch outside without a coat.

70 degree weather is a fickle friend. It embraces you with a warm hug and kiss, and then*smack*, knocks you upside the head with the price of that warm hug.

The price? Illness.

I should have known better. Sure, it is one thing for ME to run around outside with a short sleeve shirt and no coat. It is a whole other thing to have Grace run around outside sans coat, sleeves and shoes.

So again - the price? Illness.

Monday morning Grace woke up SCREAMING. At 2:30 am. And REFUSED to go back to sleep. I should have known something was wrong right then and there.

Then I got reports of Gracie throwing up her lunch at daycare. The teachers said they thought she had just choked on some beans though, so not to worry about it. She was just really tired. She had to be woken up after 3 hours of naptime with everyone else playing around her. At dinner time - at the opportune moment after she donned a bib, but before her food was placed infront of her - she yacked again.

Great. Now this is something to worry about.

This was followed with a fever and runny nose, which has now morphed into a higher fever and snot encrusted face this morning.

Oh, and did I mention that I am taking Grace back to Chicago with me on Saturday? To a parade with a predicted high temperature of 45 degrees? That is so not 70 degrees her body (and mine) is now expecting.

Damn weather. *smack*

Out With the (C)Old(s)

It feels like forever since I’ve posted anything.

I do have excuses though. We’ve been sick. In a circular family oriented sort of way.

Grace gets sick. Then Matt gets sick. Then I get sick. Now Matt gets sick again.

THE CYCLE MUST STOP!! I can’t do this anymore.

We were talking about our cycle of snot and puke the other day and came to the realization that since the Bahamas (remember my head cold?) that we haven’t gone more than 2 or 3 days as a family without one of us being ill.

How will I be celebrating the New Year? With Lysol. The environment be damned, but I am high-tailing it up the store and buying every can of germ killing spray I can get. Sure, we will be high on antiseptic fumes and leave a carbon footprint the size of Washington state from my 2 hour cleaning bender, but I AM DONE.

Here’s to the New Year and getting the crud out of our systems.

Butterflies

I’ve always considered the flu to be a practical version of the butterfly effect. If you think about it, there are similarities.

Someone, WAY over THERE gets the bug from someone else even more WAY over THERE. A random dude doesn't wash their hands, the wind blows in a funny direction, a cricket chirps in a forest....

Then someone that is in my vicinity touches my door or sneezes or coughs or just breathes and there is the evil bug, just floating around.

So I walk through the cloud of ick and come into contact with the dreaded thing. Micro-particles just floating in seemingly harmless environments. And it sticks to me.

What do I then do? No amount of neurotic hand washing and sticking, burning sanitizer gel or even shots can save you if the F-L-U really wants to come in.

It came a knockin’.

Grace was sent home from daycare on Tuesday. I received two panicked phone calls in the span of 20 minutes. I guess you would be panicking too if you had to clean up the entire contents of a child’s stomach off the floor. Especially if it’s not your kid.

So we were banned. The rule is 3 runny poops or 2 yacks and your home for 24 hours.

I picked Gracie up mid-nap from daycare. She immediately fell asleep in the car. I woke her again to bring her inside the house when we got home and she immediately fell asleep in her bed again.

Hmmm. That’s not normal.

She took a conglomerate 4 hr nap. That is so not normal.

Two hours later she was ready for bed (an hour early) and preceded to sleep for 13 hours.

So, so, so not normal. Let’s call the Doc.

It’s confirmed. It’s the flu and only the flu, so your going to just have to wait it out. Umm, and as for your trip to Chicago Thursday morning, I wouldn’t plan on it. Not unless your all want to be miserable, infect everyone around you and pray that she doesn’t vomit or have explosive poop on the plane.

Good point Doc. Throw in the fact that my dad is immune depressed and Matt’s dad just got out of the hospital, let’s consider the visit cancelled.

Shortly after the doctor’s visit, we developed a one diaper an hour routine.

With another 13 hour bedtime, that was the making of quite the mess come morning. (1 diaper x 13 hours – actually changing the diaper in that 13 hours = EWW.) Throw in a little more yack just for good measure and that had been our last 3 days.

(I do have to admit though, I catagorized this as a milestone. Gracie's first flu. To celebrate lets all go wash our hands.)

How is your week going? Watch out for butterflies this time of year.

Caught and Now Released

Well, it was a heralding 7 days.

It's been 7 days since we got phone calls saying PaPa was acting weird.

It's been 7 days since we got reports back from the neighbors saying he looked a little grey.

It's been 7 days since Matt called 911.

It's been 7 days since PaPa was coughing up blood in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and then immediately intubated and put into a drug induced coma.

It's been 6 days since we were told to expect him to be in the hospital for at least 2 weeks.

It's been 5 days since the doctors said he had a 60% chance of survival.

It's been 3 days since they removed all tubing and Matt found him sitting up in a chair and eating eggs and asking for pizza.

It's been 2 days since PaPa insisted that Matt bring his wallet to the hospital so he could do his Christmas shopping.

And today? Today he was set free. A mere 7 days.

This is a mysterious and wonderful world.

Single Parenting

Matt flew to Green Bay Saturday morning so first news from the Midwest:

1) Matt is charmed. We bought a 1st class ticket for the flight because it was only $15 more than a regular old chump ticket, and hey, if your going to pay that much money you might as well get some snacks. Well, Matt got a whole lot more than that.

Being the chatty, superstar, sports aficionado that he is, Matt had the good fortune of being seated next to a referee flying out to officiate the Green Bay v Houston game. Over the course of a few hours and a few drinks, they apparently become best friends and he’s offered network seats to the game. Which he of course has to turn down. So business cards are exchanged and now Matt has an in for free awesome tickets to games he wants to go to. PLUS he was served MIXED drinks BEFORE the plane even left the runway.

2) While again, not related to PaPa’s health, his brother Rob, bought a Lotto Scratcher ticket on a whim Friday. Won $10,000. No big deal.

3) PaPa is making improvements. As of this morning, they plan to try and take him off the ventilator. The latest chest X-Rays show the same amount of infection in his lungs, but the respiratory sounds are getting much clearer. The same X-Rays are also indicating that there may be some heart issues, but nothing that they are concerned about right now. The bad news is the doctors are saying that he will be lucky if he’s out in two weeks…. So if you do the math, he might be spending Christmas in the hospital.

On the upside, Matt & Jeanine raided PaPa’s house and cleared out the offending cigars. They were actually able to collect all unopened packages of Swisher’s and return them at the local grocery store. You’ve got to love small towns at times.

Given everything, Gracie and I had a fairly good weekend. Well, except for a few highlights:

1) Gracie is always on the move. I am getting to the point where if I know the baby gate is up on the stairs I just let her run loose and play. We are pretty much baby-proofed. Unless it gets quiet. If more than a minute goes by without noise I know she is into something she’s not supposed to be in.

Case in point, she had stood up and grabbed a glass ornament that I thought was out of reach on the tree. While the glass was still blessedly in tact, she was scraping the glitter swirls off the ornament with her teeth. Although I will admit, the glitter all over her face/mouth/tongue was pretty funny.

2) Saturday night my body decided to kick me one more time. Thankfully, my version of the flu only lasted a few hours, and they were nighttime hours.

I will always remember when I was checked into the hospital to be induced into labor with Grace, my OB asked me what I had eaten for dinner. “Oh I was good. I kept it light. I just had a salad for dinner!”

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, probably not the best choice. If you have a second kid remember this – Only eat things that you won’t mind seeing come back up. Oatmeal is my favorite. Let’s just hope you keep it all down through your labor.”

I always thought that was a crazy thing to say. As I was revisiting my healthy salad on Saturday night / Sunday morning those words kept echoing in my head.

3) Sunday morning we went to the mall to Christmas shop. The 20 minute nap she took on the way home completely destroyed her sleep schedule for that afternoon. Normally she sleeps from 11:30 – 2:00. Yesterday, it was 1:15 to 1:45. I apparently added insult to the injury of making her nap by having Tim & Jen over to watch the Bears game when she woke up. This lead to very cranky pants for the following 45 minutes.

Given everything though, I think my first weekend of single parenting went smoothly. At least there was no blood to accompany either of our tears.

The Waiting

December is such a full month.

It is feeling so hectic and we are only on day 5 of 31. That makes me crazy.

This December is so full of the unknown too. That is making me insane. I am a control freak.

Matt’s dad (PaPa) is sick. Really sick. In the ICU on a ventilator kind of sick. Currenlty critical but stable kind of sick. And of course, there is nothing we can do.

It is a case of flu, turned pneumonia and then (according to the Doc's) ignored for quite awhile. The illness had completely encompassed his left lung and was starting to work on the right. Yeah, pneumonia is easily curable, but the resulting side effects aren’t always so easy.

Again though, there is nothing we can do but trust the doctors and let the medicine do its job.

And wait. And worry. And visit. And worry and wait some more.

The modern convenience of the internet and Dr. Google is exceptionally helpful … until it starts getting into the worst case scenarios of illness. Then it sucks.

Matt is flying out to Green Bay tomorrow to camp out at the hospital for a few days. Then we are both on our own to worry. It will be the worry of the disease and the worry of what is happening 800 miles away.

Is Matt eating?
Is Gracie sleeping well?
Is Matt sleeping at all?
Is Shan overwhelmed on her own?
How long will Matt be in Wisconsin?
How much money is Shan spending at the mall? :)

In 2004 my dad had a double organ transplant. I was back in Chicago for 2 months. While the situations aren’t quite the same, I know what Matt and his family is going through with this. It is scary.

It’s a lot of doctor’s telling you they are hopeful, but let’s wait and see. Just give the medicine some time to work.

You however, are sitting there in a tiny little anti-septic smelling room, listening to the pump of the ventilator and the beep of the heart monitors, waiting for the next doctor to come into your cube, watching nurses scurry around and minutes tick down on the clock.

I must relearn patience with this though. Squash the anxieties. Find the calm.

After all, PaPa is the patriarch of a very stubborn family.

Do You Really Want to Know?

During the course of my work day, someone will inevitably ask how my evening was.

Do I tell the truth? Do they REALLY want to know?

Do I say, “Crappy. We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating fantastic homemade butternut squash chowder and French bread, when Gracie projectile vomited on me. It was great. I could identify the bits of fruit she ate for lunch. I think she needs to learn how to chew better.”?

Or do I say, “It was fine, how was yours?”?

I know the answer is number two, but still, the memory is still to fresh. The smell of puke is still in my nostrils. I even re-ran the washing machine this morning because I swear I could still smell the funk in the machine.

The one good thing about it was during my scrubbing of the tile on our floor, I realized how dirty it is. The cleaning lady HAS NOT been doing her job. Which means that it will soon become my job again.

OK, maybe that wasn't a good discovery. Ignorance is sometimes bliss. Especially when it means I don't have to vacuum or dust.

At least we will be spending $100 less a month.

Great Day For a Sick Day

So much for being sick today.

Friday afternoon Grace spiked a temperature of 100.9 at daycare. Anything above 100.5 for over an hour they send you home. Her teachers striped her down, wrapped cool towels around her and successfully got the temp down to 100.5.

Then she pulled a Poltergeist move and vomited carrots all over herself, Ms. Felicitie and 4 square feet of the tile floor below her.

We went home early.

All weekend she had a fever. It ranged from 99.9 to 201.1. She was so congested that there have been a minimum of 3 crying sessions per night.

Last night we made the decision to keep her home today and take the first available appointment at Dr.H's office. I called right at 9am this morning and the first available was 3:50pm today.

Great. I guess I could have gone to work.

Plus, as of this morning, all traces of fever have disappeared. She does have some funky looking snot (kinda like watered down chocolate frosting - yummy) coming out of one nostril and is tugging on her left ear.

I'm glad we are going though, just for the piece of mind of getting an all clear before flying on Saturday.

To make today even more worth while though - BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - Grace has figured out the knee #1, then knee #2 aspect of crawling.

Just a few moments ago, I turned to see that in a matter of minutes she had moved from her toy box on the carpet all the way over to the tile floor by the stairs.

I did a double take.

I turned back to the computer only to hear movement again.

I then watched her crawl back to the start position.



Way to go kiddo!!

She then went over to the window and started yanking on my curtains.

Hey - wait a minute. Let's just go sit over here for awhile longer.

I guess today was a GREAT day to stay home after all.

5 and Counting

The 5th tooth has made an appearance. Right top big tooth.

Unfortunately, it is traveling companions are excessive drooling, temperature and vomiting.

It's a beautiful thing.

I guess we are going to the Doc's on Monday to make sure it is just indeed a heavy bout of teething and not something more.

Sick children and vacations do not mix well.