Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A Surprise Message

After dropping the kids off at school yesterday, I sat down to work at my computer and found a note taped to the wall behind the screen. It said, in pencil,

"MOM I
hop u had a
grat tiem
at hom
lvev
Brandon"

There was a heart sticker stuck to the bottom. Wow, what a gift! I assumed my six-year-old son had a hand from his dad, but found out at bedtime that night, he'd done it all by himself! "Don't you remember I asked for some tape this morning?" he said. "I put it there just before I went to school!" Apparently, he took the sticker from one of his school valentines.

Super, super stuff. I am never taking it down :)

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Pneumonia and Me


This month I have been really sick. I try to hide it as much as I can but I was miserable. My family was miserable as I wasn't able to cope with day-to-day life. I gave it my all on the days I worked, but on my days off I slept. And slept, and slept. I had to set my watch to the time school was out so I would remember to pick them up. I think I ate - I lost five pounds. I know I drank a lot of orange juice.

The problem was in my chest, and in my pride. Mom says it was the lack of oxygen getting to my body that prevented me from making good decisions. I just kept thinking, I'm needed here. I don't have time to go to outpatients and sit there for four hours. And just by chance my doctor was too busy to see me.

I wasn't getting any sympathy at home; Mr. Man just complained about my coughing keeping him up at night - and the fact that there was no supper waiting for him when he got home. Well, that's not exactly true. He didn't complain, exactly, just a lot of sighing and saying "jeepers." Hot dogs and macaroni a la dad, again.

Just when I'd think I am going to see the hospital in the morning, I'd feel better. So I wouldn't go. And then the next day I was down and out. After three weeks, I was calling mom, begging her to take me to the hospital. And of course, she was busy. When I was a teenager, mom stayed at home and I never gave her the time of day. Now that I am grown up and needing her, she is working full-time, and looking after grandchildren. I missed my time. Sniff.

Finally I had a day when I was free to leave the kids, and the business and go to the hospital. Of course I was feeling better so I was determined that they would send me home with nothing. Half way there I started feeling rough again and thought, "I will seriously STRANGLE somebody if they send me home with nothing). So I practiced what I would say. I listed all my symptoms out loud, trying out a few coughs. I tried to remember all the gory details of the past three and a half weeks and I even drew some tears!

So when I went into the triage desk, what does the nurse ask me (in a REALLY thick Scottish accent)? "Why han' sha bin in befer thish?" Oops. "Because they needed me" was not a good answer all of a sudden. I got such a look and then a lecture when she found out I had asthma. Because of my grand performance (or that there were no line-ups) they took me in right away. Out comes the ventilator mask and I sit there breathing in this magnificent, yet noisy vapour that opened my closed airways. Then I was sent to X-ray. The doctor said if I had taken my inhalers properly from the beginning, I wouldn't have had so bad a time. I still felt pretty rough so I went along with him, but I knew what an asthma attack felt like, and this wasn't it. He sent me home with new puffers and a prescription for an antibiotic for my "extreme bronchitis". That night I was so sore on my left side of my back and under my arm. And I still had no strength in my voice. Mom was finally able to come and take care of me the next day, and while we were out grocery shopping, the hospital called and said after looking at the X-rays again, you have what looks like pneumonia in your left lung. As mom cheers, "I knew it!" and pumps the air, I have a sense of satisfaction that I have something serious and worthy of being cared for. And I instantly felt better (in my mind).

A few days earlier, I sat up in bed and spoke to God. "I know you've never come through the way I want you to when it comes to my health, EVER, but I am going to ask anyway. Could you please end this? I am worn out, the family's worn out, and I need to feel better." I guess He answered my prayer this time - the way I wanted Him to. I was still really stupid to push myself that far, and I can't say I won't do it again, but I sure am glad that in a week it will all be over. Tonight I had enough energy to make a big pot of spaghetti sauce, listen to my son read through his homework, and clean the kitchen afterward. No hot dogs for a long time...

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Mr. Man and the Peanut Allergy: Part 2

Here's another, one less heroic:
As an adult I can count on my one hand the times I have had a run-in with a peanut. Even my four-year-old sees a random peanut shell that a squirrel has left in our yard and is on instant mommy duty. As a mom, I buy and read all grocery labels, as a woman I choose all restaurants that I go to, and really, as an adult I can throw off the guilt and say no to a dessert, and even leave if need be. There are still those who are unaware that the allergy lies amongst the adults and not just the children. Bryan and I have been to wine and cheese’s that serve desserts with nuts, and we discretely leave. The hosts don’t necessarily need to know what could have been. There are restaurants changing their menus so often now that I have the freedom to go to different places than I would have dreamed. I celebrated my 34th birthday in a restaurant that used to have peanuts in piles on the floor and bar. A local ice cream shop recently changed to be peanut-free. A whole new world is being opened up to me.
So, it was ironic that one night when Bryan and I went to bed, I should break out in hives on my face and neck wherever he kissed me. An affair to remember indeed. The conversation went as follows:
Me: (scratching) What did you eat today? (I go to the bathroom, and wash my hands, face and neck) Go get the Benadryl.
Him: (Coming from downstairs, Benadryl in his hand) I may have eaten something with peanut butter in it at lunchtime.
Me: (Swallowing the meds.) What was it?
Him: (Looking really scared) Peanut butter.
Gotta love him!

Monday, February 7, 2011

Mr. Man and the Peanut Allergy: Part 1

In lieu of Valentine's day, I thought I'd post an excerpt from my peanut allergy journal:
...Neither Mr. Man nor I can remember me telling him about my allergy at a significant moment. He says he came to the realization that he was going to have to give up peanut butter. There were some weekends that I would be away overnight for work, and he would eat as much p.b. as he could in 24 hours, wash really well, and come home. He did it all at the office, of course, and did everything he could, short of burning his clothes, to decontaminate himself. The same would happen if he was away overnight. He would buy a whole bunch of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, peanut butter and white bread and gorge himself in his hotel room, clean up and come home the next day. An affair to remember.
In fact, Mr. Man had never seen me have an allergic reaction until a year after we were married. We were at a wedding reception of some friends, and when the food was brought out I asked about peanuts. (I could see walnuts on the green beans and wondered about a peanut sauce). After checking with the kitchen, the waitress reassured us that there were no peanuts, and then in the time it took for me to take a bite of my dinner, she left and came back saying she was wrong. (Later, I wondered if she really did ask the first time.) I had not swallowed my food yet, but the inside of my mouth was on fire. We jumped up and left (I spat out the beans) and we drove to the hospital. It was a learning experience in our marriage. Mr. drove like a madman! He had the four-ways flashing, the horn blowing, and at one time he even crossed the median and drove headlong into traffic. I was terrified, and a little embarrassed. The thing was, the hospital was just a few blocks away. I did not need my epi-pen as the hospital would administer epinephrine if I needed it, and my reaction was not extending into my throat. The story went on from there; an argument ensued involving a nurse, (I was not at my best), a cop approached Mr. Man for parking in a no parking zone as I ran into the hospital, (Mr. almost claimed I was a doctor), and over time we realized my reaction was not manifesting into what it could have been. We were able to return to the wedding dance and reassure our friends that everything was fine. Months later, Mr. Man got a long lecture about his driving skills when I was in labour with our firstborn.
Needless to say, all was done out of love, and as this fanciful day approaches, may you be rescued, if for the first time or the millionth, by your love.

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