Morning Routine Interrupted

When I woke up this morning, I was so glad that it was the end of the work week. Although I work an abbreviated schedule to be able to get home for the kids in the afternoon, my job is essentially unchanged. I look forward to Friday just like the next person. As I showered, I thought about the end of the day, and what we might do with the kids in the evening.

I got dressed and made it to the kitchen to begin making an egg sandwich and a fresh cup of coffee to go. Nathan was already at the table eating his cereal, and Trevor was shouting down the hall for Gracie to GET UP RIGHT NOW THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I'VE CALLED YOU WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG?? This is pretty much our standard morning procedure around here. Nathan hops out of bed (actually he's often awake and playing in his room by the time I fall out of bed after the 8th snooze) and is ready to take on the world.

Grace? Well, she takes after her mother (and her grandfather, aunt and uncle) in that she needs to be awakened gently. Soft words and strokes on her back to bridge the gap between sleep and wakefulness. Low murmurs in her ear about getting up and reminders of what the day holds for her. If protocol is not strictly followed, we will have a cranky bear child roaming the halls unable to find her clothes or eat breakfast without spilling something.

That sort of procedure works great on the weekends when we have endless amounts of time to waste spend, but not so much during the week when everyone is trying to get out of the house on time. We do a sort of abbreviated version of the wake-up program, but the results are often less than satisfactory. For instance, she's not really cranky with the abbreviated version, but she is as slow as molasses in January. It requires a minimum of three reminders for every task set before her. Getting dressed. Brushing her teeth. Putting on her shoes. Eating her breakfast. Making her bed. It's painful really.

Anyway, it was no surprise that Gracie was not at the breakfast table with her brother, so I continued to cook my egg with one eye on the clock to be sure I wouldn't be late. Gracie finally came stumbling into the kitchen with Medusa hair and a sweet sleepy look on her face, and sat down at the table. I went back to her bedroom to lay out her clothes (Trevor lives in mortal fear of putting outfits together for her), and to retrieve her hairbrush and bow.

As I came into the kitchen, Trevor was leaning over her with the thermometer. She had a low-grade fever and said that her throat was burning. When Gracie complains of anything, I usually take it pretty seriously. This is the same child who had strep throat and a) never complained of any pain, and b) ate crackers in the doctors office as they told me that the strep had caused scarlet fever. She has a very high pain tolerance, so any time she admits to pain I listen.

So now I have the day off so I can take her to the doctor before the weekend gets started in case she needs a prescription for an antibiotic. Not an altogether unpleasant thought because I always enjoy time alone with Grace. As an added bonus, there is no vomiting involved with this illness so we'll get to spend the day watching girly princess movies and slurping down Popsicles.

Good times.

High Threshold for Pain

The past few weeks have been quite the roller coaster ride of fever, congestion and medication. All four of us have had some form of illness, but we're finally in the clear. I went back to work yesterday, and Gracie finally went back to the sitter's house this morning. But not before we experienced just one more moment of drama and suspense.

Gracie still had a fever Sunday night, so we called Trevor's mom to see if she could take a day off from work to keep her for us. She agreed, and we made plans to go to work. Right before bed, Gracie told me that her ear hurt. No crying, no whining, just a simple statement. She had been slightly congested for days, but the MD had checked her ears last Monday and they were clear. I figured that she might be getting a bit of an infection, and decided I would call the MD in the morning for advice.

My first clue that something was amiss came when I was brushing her hair Monday morning, and the brush snagged on something in her hair. This is not unusual, because Gracie frequently gets food in her hair when she eats, so I grabbed wet washcloth to clean her hair. That's when I noticed the crust all over her right ear. When I checked it the night before, it was clean and pink. What I was looking at in the morning was not clean and pink. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that I called the MD immediately to make an appointment.

Trevor's mom called me after the appointment to inform me that Gracie had a ruptured eardrum from an ear infection, and that's why all the gunk had drained out. Apparently the worst of it was over because it's the pressure that hurts, and once the eardrum perforates, the pain pretty much stops.

Well, thank goodness for small favors.

This is not the first time that Gracie's superhuman pain tolerance has delayed a diagnosis. She has had one other ear infection before, and the only reason it was caught because I took her to the MD for a completely unrelated issue. The MD seemed really surprised that she had not been complaining of pain, but she had never said a word.

Another time, she broke out in a rash all over, and when the MD diagnosed her with scarlet fever I couldn't believe that she had not complained of a sore throat. Scarlet fever is a rash associated with strep throat, and she had a pretty nasty case. I had strep throat once, and drinking water felt like swallowing razor blades. Gracie was sitting in the MD's office munching away at a package of crackers as though there were nothing in the world wrong with her!

I suppose all that pain tolerance will serve her well in childbirth, but for now I wish she would tell me when it hurts so I can provide adequate medical care before her stinking eardrum perforates from the pressure of the infection!!! More importantly, adequate medical attention before my child reaches a point that looks for all the world like I don't take care of her!

So now we are back to our normal schedules with the added routine of antibiotics and ear drops morning and night. Did I mention that she hates the eardrops? Trevor's mom gave her the first round, and she did fine because she had no frame of reference, but last night Trevor had to hold her down so I could get them in. This morning, I caught her before she woke up, but that will only work once with Grace. Tomorrow morning I'm pretty sure that no matter how early I go into her room, she will be sitting quietly on her bed, fully dressed and waiting for me. "Fool me once, shame on you....fool me twice...."

It's hard to ever fool Gracie more than once! Any suggestion from all of you ear infection veterans for getting the drops in without a straitjacket and sedatives? She loves to take oral medication...she actually asks for it...but these ear drops are going to do me in before it's all said and done.

I AM -- Just In Time

I was reading the I AM study about how God intentionally places us where He wants us to be, and that we need to be responsive to the Holy Spirit so that we can be used. All I kept thinking about was a life-changing experience that I had as a young adult. This event was pre-children and pre-marriage. In a way, I gauge milestones (at least in my mind) by their relationship in time to this experience. Was it before or after?

I have forgotten so much since then, although I think some of that is a defense mechanism. But the most important thing about my story is how God worked out His plan in me, so here it goes...

When I was 19, I was diagnosed with cancer. More specifically, Nodular Sclerosing Hodgkin's Lymphoma, stage IIA.

I was attending Texas A&M University (whoop!), and it was the fall of my sophomore year. I was a microbiology major, so as you can imagine, I had a backpack crammed full of ridiculously over sized textbooks that I had to haul across campus from class to class. One evening as I was studying in my dorm room, I was rubbing my neck in an attempt to relieve some of the tension caused by all that weight and I stopped mid-rub. There was a mass of lymph nodes in my left neck. I can still remember the sensation under my fingertips as I tried to make sense of what I was feeling.

Looking back, I was abnormally sick that semester. I had never had the flu until that fall, and I was just not myself but I chalked it up to stress and college. I went to the campus quack shack where I was diagnosed with mono and sent back to my dorm with antibiotics.

I don't remember calling Mama and Daddy about the lumps in my neck, or the original appointment with my PCP, but I do remember the trip home for Christmas break knowing that my doctor had recommended a biopsy. It all seemed very surreal until I stepped inside my parent's house, decorated floor to ceiling with all of the familiar Christmas decorations and saw Mama. For the first (and next to last) time, I completely lost it. I sobbed on Mama's shoulder out of fear and the prospect of a completely unknown future.

I spent the days before the biopsy researching what might be causing my illness. Back in 1991, the internet was not at my fingertips, so I scoured our encyclopedias and health books. I had more or less self diagnosed myself with Hodgkin's, and remember reading that surgeons could often tell if it was Hodgkin's by the way the biopsied lymph node looked.

I went in for the biopsy on December 23rd, and remember waking up while being moved from the surgery table to the stretcher and asking the doctor if it was Hodgkin's, and then promptly falling back asleep. We spent our Christmas in Louisiana with family, and I vacillated between enjoying the extra attention, and being annoyed that there was a reason I was being coddled.

On New Year's Eve we received the call from the surgeon: the node was positive for lymphoma and I needed to make an appointment with an oncologist for treatment options. Actually, my mom received the call, and she drove over to Uncle Tellius' house to tell me. I am ashamed to admit that I was so determined to act as though it was no big deal that I was quite brusque with Mama and wouldn't allow myself to be hugged or comforted. Now that I am a mother, I can see that she needed to hold me and feel that I was still there. She needed comfort too.

So, it was decided that I would not return to A&M in the spring. Instead, I would have a staging laparotomy and splenectomy and spend my time receiving radiation treatment. So, a month to the day after my biopsy, I found myself on the oncology ward of the hospital recovering from surgery. I had an incision from mid-sternum to about 3 inches below my naval, and it was a horrific recovery. Remember I mentioned earlier that when I broke down in Mama's arms it was the next to last time I lost it? This was the last time.

I had been extubated, and had been receiving excruciating breathing treatments so prevent me from getting pneumonia (a possible death sentence to the spleenless) but I still wasn't being allowed anything to drink. I had reached my breaking point and I found myself in Mama's arms again, repeating over and over again that I was doing everything they asked and not complaining so why couldn't I have some water?

But, time passed and I slowly healed. I had 55 staples holding me together and when I was strong enough, I was taken down to the Radiation Oncology department to start the planning for my treatment. I had to lay on my recently opened stomach for about 45 minutes (and hold still) as they took films and drew on my skin. I can't even begin to describe the pain, although I am grateful for it now because it gives me a true sense of empathy for my own patients.

Anyway, after a series of admissions to the hospital for post-op infections and complications, I finally started my radiation to the neck, chest and abdomen. I had lost over 20 lbs in a matter of 2 weeks and I was skin and bones, but secretly excited that I was thin. (Forgive me, I was in college!) The radiation was a breeze compared to the surgery and I actually enjoyed the drive to Houston every day. For the first time ever, I had nothing to do. No school, no job; just getting better. Driving to my treatments got me out of the house for a few hours.

As my treatment came to a close, I begin to look to the future. Hodgkin's is very curable in it's early stages, and I needed to start thinking about going back to school and getting on with my life. As the realization that I was really going to get through this sank in I started feeling that I needed to somehow repay all of the kindness that had been shown to me. Not just a thank you card and a cake, but something life changing.

I realized that God puts us in the middle of difficult circumstances in order to prune us and to point us in the right direction. I wasn't meant to be a microbiologist....I was meant to serve God by healing other cancer patients. I asked my therapists for information about school and they procured a package of information from MD Anderson about their radiation therapy program. I applied and was accepted for the fall.

I was so excited about therapy school and couldn't wait for the summer to be over so I could begin the training that would allow me to do what I knew God had planned for me. I begin my classwork and clinical rotations and was more sure than ever that this was the right thing for me to be doing. I loved working with cancer patients and I loved the technical aspect of my job. At the risk of sounding conceited, I was good at it too. Everything came naturally to me and I excelled in my coursework.

Then around October, I began having night sweats. Soaking, drenching, (scary) have to get up and change my clothes night sweats. I was horrified, because this was one of the symptoms of Hodgkin's. With my original diagnosis, I had no classic symptoms of the disease (night sweats, unexplained weight loss, itching). I didn't tell anyone for a good while, because I was hoping that it would just go away. I soon realized that ignoring it wasn't going to work and I finally went to my oncologist for more bone marrow aspirations, CAT scans, bone scans and blood work.

She could not find any obvious disease that would be causing my symptoms, so she referred me to MD Anderson for additional testing. They immediately found a positive lymph node in my pelvis, and recommended chemotherapy for the recurrence. I was devastated. I went to the director of the therapy program with every intention of resigning from the program until my treatment was complete, but he encouraged me to stay in school so I did.

In January of 1993, the week after my 21st birthday I started chemo. By February I had lost all of my hair and decided that I just didn't care and walked around bald. Oh, the impetuousness of youth! I would never in a million years do that now, but I was working in an environment that catered to bald women carrying chemo bags, so I fit right in! I took chemo for 7 months and it was hard.

Hard to get up in the morning and go to class and clinic. Hard to force myself to take the horrid little pills at home, and to drink all of the water I was supposed to. (I couldn't drink bottled water for years after) Hard to watch the chemicals slowly dripping out of the bag into my veins, knowing that I would be throwing up soon, and then unable to eat for days because of the sores in my mouth and throat. Hard to watch all of my friends live normal lives while I was labeled "sick" and "weak". There were so many things that were hard about that time in my life, but the one thing that never changed was my conviction that God had a purpose for me.

Because of that knowledge and conviction, I made it through school, graduated in 1994 and was hired on at Anderson as a therapist. I have spent the years since ministering to my patients through kindness, empathy, and prayer. I love my job. I love it more knowing that God intended it for me. I love it that God has specifically put so many people in my path because He knew that I would be able to comfort them in a way that no one except a cancer survivor can.

So, there is my story. It's not complete...it would take too long to record all of the stories and memories associated with those 2 years, but this will suffice. When I let myself get discouraged, I just remind myself that God is in control and that He knows what He is doing. Even when it hurts. Even when we are being pruned for better fruit. Even when it feels as though we've been abandoned, He is achieving His purpose through us. We are always where God intends us to be, we just have to listen to what He is saying and then say, "Yes, Lord. Use me!"

One More Night

Well, my evening is not turning out the way that I had planned. According to my plan, I was was supposed to sweep in with a box of Popeye's chicken and biscuits, set the kids up with a picnic in the fort and cut the grass as they ate their dinner and enjoyed the great outdoors. The way it happened was that I swept in with the box of chicken and biscuits to a chorus of "I don't want chicken". Not only that, but Gracie had a fever of 103.4 and I was not about to put her outside to eat in the heat. So, plan B involved a blanket on the living room floor in front of the TV for an indoor picnic.

Although not quite according to plan, dinner turned out pretty well in spite of earlier protests as to the content. So, I went out side for the "cut the grass" portion of the plan only to discover that the lawn mower wouldn't start. Well, it would start but it bellowed smoke and the engine had a sad, feeble sound just before it died. I spent a good 20 minutes in the sun trying to figure it out (as well as a phone call to Trevor) and finally gave up. What this meant for me was that I was hot and sweaty as though I had been mowing, without the satisfaction of a freshly mowed lawn.

So here I am, preparing for my last evening without Trevor trying to decide what to do first. The sheets need to be changed on our bed, because there is no better feeling than to slip in between fresh clean sheets after a 17 hour flight. That is one thing that I always do the morning he gets gets home so that it is ready and waiting for him. I have laundry to take care of, dinner to make for myself, the kids need baths and medicine, the trash can needs to be brought in from the road and I would like a little down time for myself somewhere in there! Oh well...such is the life of a mother. I have to keep asking myself the question, "Will any of this matter in 6 months?" If the answer in "no" then I try not to let myself stress over it. I have more important things to stress and worry about without sweating the small stuff. Actually, I shouldn't stress and worry about anything. Jesus said:

"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:33-34

Amen and amen!

The countdown is moving forward. In 22 hours I will be in Trevor's arms again and the anticipation of that reunion is enough to get me through tonight with no worries!

Paying for the Pediatrician's Vacation Home

I woke up at 1:42 am with the strange sensation that someone was watching me in the dark. I rolled over to see Gracie standing by my bed with her blanket in hand. "I try to get juice," she said. I reached for her and realized that she was burning up. As I carried her down the hallway in a sleepy stupor, I wondered for the hundredth time how much longer this is going to go on.

After a refreshing drink of juice, a dose of ibuprofen and a diaper change, she was back in bed, ready to finish her night. As I laid there trying to go back to sleep I decided to stay home with the kids and take Gracie to the doctor in the morning. If our pediatrician had some sort of frequent visit incentive program, we would probably have earned a vacation to Disney World by now! When the nurse calls our name, Gracie bolts for the door screaming, "Dr. Gilley! Dr. Gilley! I see Dr. Gilley!" They know her so well now that she is greeted with hugs and love when she comes into the room. It's quite sad, actually.

Anyway, the verdict for Gracie was that she had the same viral infection that Nathan did, but that hers was developing into a sinus infection. We were sent home with a prescription for Amoxicillin, nose drops and drops for the pink eye she developed on the left side. It's a good thing that Gracie loves to take medicine. When I try to give Nathan his medicine, she runs up and asks for hers...it's never a problem to get her to take medicine, no matter how nasty it is.

So, we are back home and Gracie is down for her nap. Nathan is setting up the Mouse Trap game so we can play, and I am waiting for Claude to come over to tune the piano.

End of day note:

My piano is finally tuned! Whoo hoo! Claude was here for almost 2 hours and he did a wonderful job. I can't wait for Trevor to hear the difference. And as happy as I am about the piano, I am a million times happier about something else that happened this evening.

(Disclaimer: if you are not a parent, you will have no idea how important this is, so just play along.)

Gracie pooped in the potty tonight! Not only did she poop, but she came and told me that she had to go to the bathroom. She was so proud of herself and wanted to call Trevor straight away. I wish that I had the camera to record that little face beaming bright enough to rival the sun!

Where the Red Fern Grows

I watched "Where the Red Fern Grows" for the first time since about 1984, and I'll be darned if I didn't cry like I did the first time I saw it! One of the many benefits of having children is the opportunity to see again all of the classics that I grew up on. I can recall watching it and "Old Yeller" at church camp and various functions year after year. By the time the movie was over there would be a roomful of kids either openly sobbing or at the very least sniffling and wiping their eyes.

Anyway, the reason I was watching it was because Nathan was getting bored with the same old movies he had been watching for an entire week, so I pulled it out thinking that he would be interested in seeing it. I also figured that it would have the added benefit of draining his sinuses...a little unorthodox, I know, but whatever works! To my surprise, he was completely disinterested in Old Dan and Little Ann and their adventures in coon hunting. His fever was lower than it had been in days, and he was feeling like getting up and playing. So I got engrossed in the movie and he and Grace crawled around under the fold out couch and ate lunch.

He did really well all morning, and his fever seemed to be waning but then we all laid down for a nap around 1 pm and when I checked on him at 1:30, he was burning up again and his fever was back up to 104.6. So, I covered him in ice packs and filled him with cold juice and popsicles again. I am starting to get really concerned about the source of his infection. His only symptoms are still congestion and a cough. No sore throat. Check. Ears don't hurt. Check. No rash. Check. If he wakes up tomorrow morning after having 3 doses of his antibiotic and he still has fever, I am going to seriously consider taking him to the ER. I don't relish the thought of sitting in the ER waiting room all day, but we have got to figure out what is causing this fever.

Home Sick Part II

I thought that Nathan was on the mend when his fever broke yesterday and he felt like getting out of bed. He ate a ham and cheese sandwich for supper and seemed more like himself. I dosed him with ibuprofen before going to bed to make sure he was comfortable.

He woke me up at 2 am with words that shot through my heart like a bolt of lightening, "I'm hot and my stomach hurts." If you recall, vomiting is a symptom of viral encephalitis and I was warned by his doctor to keep an eye out for it. I threw the covers back in a more than slight panic and asked him to repeat what he had said. As he was about to comply, he let out a burp that would make any audience of 6-10 year old boys cheer and then said, "Wait, no. I feel better." I nearly laughed out loud in relief and then went about the business of taking his temperature and dosing him.

I looked at the read-out in horror....106.2 degrees. 106.2 degrees? 106.2 DEGREES! I felt like Chekhov when he realized he was on the Botany Bay. (If you are not a Trekkie, just carry on smartly and don't worry about the reference) I quickly gave him his medicine and gave him ice packs for his neck, armpits and groin. I stayed up with him until he fell asleep and checked him after 40 minutes to make sure that he was cooling off before I went back to bed.

So, here we are at home again, waiting for the fever to break. He has a follow-up appointment at 2:30 pm with Dr. Gilley, so we'll see what she says. Hopefully she will reconfirm her original diagnosis of a viral infection and we won't need any additional tests that require needles. Nathan starts freaking out at the mention of blood or shots and he gets himself so worked up that he is hard to control when it's time to administer whatever is prescribed.

As a side note, I went outside this morning as I was talking to Mama on the phone and saw how beautiful my bougainvillea was. I bought two hanging baskets when we put the deck cover in and they didn't seem to be doing very well. I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, but I just kept watering them and giving them sun. When I really looked at them today, I realized that every vine was heavy with healthy blooms. I took some pictures of them and included them below.

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Click to play Make your own Smilebox

UPDATE:

We went to the MD today as planned and she was concerned about the fact that Nathan's fever had not gone away. She ordered more blood work and a chest x-ray and so we went to the hospital to have it taken. Nathan was not entirely thrilled with the radiology department, but I was impressed as our wait from registration to exam completion was only about 30 minutes.

Anyway, Dr. Gilley called me on my cell as we were nearing home and told me that the x-ray was negative for pneumonia, but that she wanted me to go ahead and start Nathan on a heavy-duty antibiotic since the cause of the fever was still unknown. So, we'll wait and see what happens tonight and tomorrow morning. Hopefully the antibiotic will kick in and he will be feeling better in the morning. Either way, I was instructed to call the MD first thing Monday morning to give her an update.

No More Curious George!

I would give cash money to the person who could promise me that I would never have to watch another episode of Curious George. Now don't get me wrong....Curious George is great, and the show on PBS is educational and fun. I just wish Nathan and Grace would find another television show that they want to watch.

Trevor and I recently realized how much TV the kids were actually watching, and so we decided that they needed to spend more time outside. When he is home, we spend a good many of our evenings outside on the deck watching them play on the swing set or running around playing tag. But the combination of Nathan being sick and the weather being hot, has forced us indoors for the last several days and I am pretty much sick of Curious George.

When I have the audacity to suggest something else for our viewing pleasure, I am shut down with identical, dual looks of incredulity and cries of "No! Curious George!" So I sigh and sit back down for the 329th viewing of the episode where George breaks his leg. Then we watch the one where he refuses to take a bath. Then we watch....well, you get the general picture here.

I was overjoyed to see that Nathan's fever had broken today because I am happy that he is not miserable anymore. I am sad to report that I was almost as happy at the thought of no more marathon Curious George viewing and that our night life would be back to normal soon. Not only does the hour or two of outdoor play keep the kids in shape, it also tires them out so they sleep well at night. I am all about the things that tire the kids out. Seriously.

So, Nathan is feeling better and my sanity is returning. I have to say that I was really lucky that Gracie was not sick too, and that although I am congested I did not have fever to deal with. All in all, this episode was not as bad as it could have been. When one of the kids is sick, I am reminded of how fragile life is (it comes with the territory when you are a worrier) and how grateful I am that I have healthy, happy children.

Home Sick

Last Sunday night, Nathan had a low-grade fever. No big deal. He was a little stuffy with a mild fever. When he woke up Monday morning it was gone and so I sent him to Heather's for the day. We had dinner with Kenneth and Kellye that evening and Nathan seemed to be having a great time with Kaben and didn't seem out of sorts or sick.

Tuesday morning he got up with no problems and went to Heather's again. When I picked him up around 4 pm, he was lying on her couch covered with a blanket because he had a chill. When I got him home his temperature was 102.1. I started dosing him with ibuprofen and by the time he went to bed, his fever was gone but I gave him a dose of Tylenol anyway to make sure he was comfortable during the night.

Around 4 am he came in my bedroom to tell me that his head was hot and his body was cold. I did a double-take when I saw the numbers 103.6 on the thermometer. He felt so bad and there wasn't really anything I could do about it. I gave him another dose of ibuprofen and sent him back to bed. When he woke up at 7 am, he still had a mild fever, but it was on the non-scary side of the scale. I decided to stay home with him and take him to the pediatrician.

Normally, when Nathan has a fever Trevor and I just sort of blow it off. He's had viral fevers since he was an infant and once we got used to seeing the upper limits on the thermometer read-out we just dose him up with Advil and Tylenol and wait 24 hours. That's the normal life cycle of his fevers, but this one was going on 3 days and I didn't want to take any chances on strep or an ear infection.

We got an appointment for 10:20 am and I broke one of my cardinal rules of riding in the car: I let him forgo the booster seat and lie down in the back seat so he could sleep. We brought his pillows and a blanket and he slept the entire way to the doctor. When we arrived we were taken to a room pretty quickly and he promptly fell asleep on the exam table. I sat next to him waiting for Dr. Gilley to find her way to us.

She did a rapid strep test as well as blood work (and I just thought getting a shot was traumatic), and both were negative. She felt like it was a virus, but wanted to see him again on Friday to make sure that he was on the mend. I was told to continue on with the alternate doses of ibuprofen and Tylenol. As she was walking out she mentioned that if he vomited I should take him directly to the ER.

Huh?

I asked her why I should be concerned about vomiting and she said that viral encephalitis causes increased pressure on the brain which often causes vomiting and headaches. To my credit I did not go into an immediate panic. I waited until I got about halfway home and started imagining the worst. I think Nathan was a little irritated with me because I kept waking him up to ask him if his stomach or head hurt.

Once home I got him settled on the fold out couch (he loves it) with a popsicle and a movie. I then went directly to Google to check out the signs and symptoms of viral encephalitis. Of course I did...how else would I know what to worry about? It turns out that the chances of Nathan actually having viral encephalitis is very low, so I stopped being so freaked out about it.

It's funny how he looks so grown up when he's outside climbing the tree or riding his bike, but when he's sick he looks so little. When he's well he can't be bothered with too many hugs and kisses...he's way too busy for all that. But when he's sick he wants me close to stroke his hair and keep him supplied with cold drinks, and I am happy to oblige. It's one of the perks (and sometimes curse) of being a mother...they only want me when they are really sick. Trevor won't do. They want me and that gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling way down deep.

So, Nathan is sleeping on the couch and I have stocked the kitchen with popsicles, soup and Sprite. Trevor's mom is coming tomorrow to keep him for me since I think that he will be too weak to got to Heather's and I don't want her to have to baby him all day. Hopefully with another day of rest and unlimited amounts of Sprite and frozen treats he will be well on his way to a full recovery.

The Grumpy Road to Recovery

Nathan was out of school for FFA day and Trevor stayed home with him, which allowed me to get to work early for once. I left the house at 5:45 am and spent the entire morning moving from project to project at work. It was actually refreshing to have something to do...our patient load is down and it's been a struggle to fill the day which just makes it drag by.

I left work at 12:15 (I just love working a half-day on Friday!) and headed home for a little relaxation. When I got home, Trevor was on the couch with a cold. He has been getting progressively worse for the past few days and it finally caught up with him. The problem is that I'm not entirely over my illness yet, and I get tired very easily. The thought of taking care of him and the kids made me a little nauseous if the truth be told. It must be said that Trevor did not imply in any way that I should take care of him. Actually, the opposite is true with him....he would much rather be left alone when he is sick and I tend to hover too much.

So the internal battle was raging....suck it up and try to make him more comfortable and keep Nathan quiet and out of the way or go to the bedroom and take a nap? I wish I could say that my heart of service won the day, but sadly it did not. I slept for an hour or so until I had to get up to go get Grace from daycare, which just made me more cranky because it interrupted my nap. I know....wah.

So, after a few hours of watching the kids draw on the deck with chalk and then watching television, here I am. Exhausted after doing only a fraction of what I normally do on Friday and irritated and grumpy because I am so tired. Poor Trevor, Nathan and Grace because grumpy=impatient and fussy. Once I am finished blogging I vow to be nicer and more human-like if it kills me.

I am also grumpy because the subject of Mother's Day was broached and I don't like having to decide what to do. Of all of the days of the year, I don't think that I should be required to plan anything. I plan all the birthday parties, the holiday gatherings, and all the things in between. I plan, cook and clean so that the day will be fun and memorable. This has nothing to do with not liking to do those things...I enjoy entertaining, but Mother's Day should be a day of rest and relaxation for me. I don't want to decide what we are going to eat or where we are going to eat it. I wouldn't even mind making food for a potluck at Will and Charly's, but I don't want to decide what to make.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but I guess the at the bottom of it all, what I really want for Mother's Day is no responsibility. For one day I don't want to be the one holding it all together. I don't expect to spend the entire day in a hammock with an cold drink and an unlimited supply of chocolate nearby (as nice as that sounds!), but I want to be the follower instead of the leader for 16 hours. So, I vow to be nicer to my family tonight in spite of my grumpiness and look forward to Sunday.

Feeling Better

I am feeling so much better today. Still a bit weak, but well enough to handle the kids and do some basic housework. Last night,Kellye offered to heat up a can of chicken noodle soup for me, but I figured I had enough strength to open the pantry and prepare a can for myself!

I ran out to the store this morning for some basics (we run through milk faster than a calf!) and for a few easy to prepare meals for today. Nathan and Grace decided on frozen dinners and I bought some tuna fish for myself. We also stopped for a couple of never before seen kid-friendly movies to keep the offspring occupied later. Once I got home, I was feeling so well that I made a heavenly hash cake to have for dessert. After the flurry of cooking and light cleaning, I was exhausted.

When the kids went down for naps, so did I. I love the fact that Nathan and Grace both still love to take long naps....usually no less than 2 hours. When I'm well this gives me time to take care of things without being bothered every 20 seconds, and when I'm sick it gives me a chance to sleep.

Ali called me to see how I was doing and for some recipe information. She offered to bring over some chicken spaghetti later this afternoon and I gladly accepted. The nap didn't really take the edge off my exhaustion the way I had hoped, so the idea of supper being provided was something I couldn't pass up! Can I just say again how wonderful it is to have friends?

I had bought all of the materials I needed to make the Memorial Day wreaths for Gramps' and Uncle Tellius' graves last week, and so I thought it would be a good project to start on since it didn't require any standing. I finished the first one, but even that little bit of effort made me tired so I decided to hang it up for the day. I intend to do as little as possible for the rest of the afternoon with the hope that I will be feeling like myself tomorrow.

The Spleenless Wonder (Part II)

You guessed it...I'm sick. Gracie had the sinus crud which in turn developed into a mild ear infection for her and bronchitis for me. Whoo hoo. I went to work this morning since I didn't have fever, and took a handful of drugs for the aches and cough. The medication masked the symptoms for most of the morning, and then I took another dose right before noon.

Unfortunately, Nathan had his annual well-child visit at 2 pm, and I needed to take Gracie in as well to get her ears checked out. So, I drove home and discovered that I had exactly 30 minutes before I needed to go get the kids so I laid down on the couch for a power nap. I felt a somewhat better after sleeping for a little while and went to pick up the kids from school and daycare.

On the way to the pediatrician, I realized that I had not packed anything for the kids to do at the doctor's office. I usually stuff Gracie's bag full of crayons (they draw on the exam table paper), books and snacks for both of them. It's easier to keep them bribed and happy than to have a complete meltdown, but in light of my present condition I completely forgot to bring anything for them. I dug down to the bottom of the bag and found one green and one purple crayon...you should have seen the look of disbelief in their eyes! I'm usually the mom with extra everything in the bag (you never know when friends with kids will want to go out for lunch after church); it's like Mary Poppin's carpetbag.

Anyway, they finally got settled with their whopping 2 crayons and all was going well with the examinations until Nathan discovered that he had to get a shot. Now normally I am very tolerant of his shenanigans right before he gets an immunization. After all, I ran and hid from the nurse for years when I was a child. I vividly remember hiding, being seized and then held down in Mama's lap for my shots while Patrick laid calmly and quietly on the exam table to get his. I always felt some shame that I couldn't be as brave as Patrick, but at the time the only thing my brain could focus on was the thought of a long needle being inserted into my behind.

Confession: It wasn't until my diagnoses and subsequent treatment that I got over my fear of needles. Up until I was 19 years old I had a real issue with shots....it took all of my resolve to walk into the campus Quack Shack and voluntarily get my MMR booster when I was 18. But it wasn't until after a full year of needles and procedures (that I will not recount in graphic detail for you here) that I finally got over that particular fear.

So with that in mind, I really should have been more patient with Nathan when the time came for the shot. Unfortunately, I let the fact that I was feeling bad override my mothering instinct and had little sympathy for him. I ended up picking him up and forcing him on the table. I held his arms while the nurse braced his legs. He was so focused on anticipating the shot that he didn't even feel it when it came.

So, a few stickers and $30 later we were on our way home. I put Curious George on the television for the kids and promptly fell asleep on the couch. I was still sleeping when Trevor got home at 5:15 and didn't really wake up again until the pizza came at 7 pm.

So there you have the saga of my illness......I hope that with a good night's sleep (and a healthy dose of NyQuil) I will feel better tomorrow since Trevor will be gone all day at his concealed handgun class.

The Spleenless Wonder

Yep! That's me. No spleen = lowered immunity. This is why I tend to pick up every single virus and infection with which I come in contact. I firmly believe the reason I am not sick all the time is because of my obsessive use of Germ-x and anti-bacterial soap. When one of the kids or Trevor gets sick I Lysol the entire house many times a day to try and avoid getting sick myself. Not only do I get sick, but I stay sick for longer then the average person. A standard sinus infection or cold is 99.9% guaranteed to turn into a lingering case of bronchitis. Luckily I'm vaccinated against pneumonia, but unfortunately allergic to the flu shot.

So my life during cold and flu season is one of constant vigilance and disinfection. As previously recorded in yesterday's blog, I've been sick. I thought I had a cold/sinus infection, but as the day progressed it was determined by the physician and people I work with that I might in fact have the flu. I was summarily sent home with instructions to fill my Rx for Tamiflu and go straight to bed, do not pass go, do not collect $200. The sleep did me good, but the muscle aches and general malaise was not going away. I spent the night waking up over and over again to a sore throat which I self diagnosed as strep when I got out of bed at 5am.

Google. O wonderful, ingenious tool! We don't need doctors anymore! We have the internet!! My symptoms match everything I've read for strep, so that must be it. The problem is that the more I Googled, the more diseases I found that matched my symptoms. Maybe I have a peritonsillar abscess or maybe diptheria or that often misdiagnosed condition pemphigus!!!! Maybe I should go to the doctor today.....

This is part two of today's blog.....it's been about 11 hours since the original post and I did go to the doctor. All it earned me was a brief lecture on the dangers of not coming to see him sooner, a nice thick shot of antibiotic in my posterior region and the joy of taking oral antibiotics for the next 10 days. The good news is that I do not have a peritonsillar abscess, diptheria, pemphigus or even strep throat, just a good case of the flu. (For all of you out there about to post or call to inform me that antibiotics don't do anything to cure the flu, keep your shorts on....it's to prophylactically treat any secondary infections brought on by the flu in my spleenless condition).

So, with strict instructions to not return to work until Monday, I will be resting quietly at home tomorrow with much time on my hands to do absolutely nothing. I can't wait. No kids, husband working outside on the deck and the remote control all to myself. It's a dream come true! Now if I just had a house elf.......

Should I Really Be at Work Today?

So here is the dilemma of health care workers since time began: "Should I come to work when I'm sick?" You would think that would be a no-brainer, but alas it is not. On one hand, we understand very clearly that when we have fever we are probably contagious with whatever is causing the fever. Our patients are already immunosuppressed and something as minor as a cold can throw them into a tailspin. There is also the obvious fact that we would feel better if we just stayed home and pampered ourselves and be more effective at work, sooner. But there is always the other hand, and on that hand we have policies and procedures and time off with and without pay. If you call in, you are penalized (like you actually got sick on purpose just throw the whole system off). But if you come to work with a fever then you get fussed at for not staying home. It's a Catch-22.

The sick leave policy should be more flexible and generous for health care providers. If you work in an office setting where you are more or less isolated to your desk or a certain area, you could feasibly confine your germs to one area with the generous use of Purell, Lysol and anti-bacterial soap. And even if you gave someone the sniffles, it wouldn't cause them to be admitted to the hospital or affect their immune system. Now before someone posts a comment about how everyone should be entitled and able to stay home when they are sick, no matter where they work...I completely agree. But we work in very close contact with our customers and while I might feel alright to go to work with a fever, I probably shouldn't.

So, the point of that whole tirade was that I feel like I've been run over by a train. I started feeling bad yesterday afternoon, it got progressively worse throughout the evening and culminated with a fever and a sinus headache that I couldn't get rid of all night. So here I am....fever under control by way of copious amounts of Ibuprofen, sitting at work. I feel terrible and want to go home, but I don't want to be THAT person. You know the type....they call in or go home at the drop of a hat and leave the work for everyone else. Plus I need to save my time off for when Trevor goes to China in a week or so in case the kids get sick. OK....the whining is over--for now. It's just a pet peeve of mine that the one industry that you would think would be understanding of illness, isn't. Not even a little bit. Now this is not a reflection on my boss....I do not catch any flack from her about calling in, etc. But she still has to follow the rules and tally up the number of days I call in or leave early. (I guess the whining wasn't completely over yet).

The nice thing about feeling awful last night was that Trevor took really good care of me. Now, that's not to say that he is a stump when I'm feeling good, but he went above and beyond last night. He got me a drink and then he got me medicine and then he rubbed my shoulders and neck.....and then he did it all over again. He was so attentive and sweet...he even kept the kids away from me for the most part so I could rest. I was laying there in misery on the couch, but thinking how lucky I was to have a husband like him. Sickness and in health. No matter what the circumstance, you should always be able to find the good in it. He made that easy to do last night, and I thank him for it and I thank God for giving him to me.