Instinks

When I was pregnant with Patrick I read an article in whatever parenting magazine that assured the neurotic new mother that they would just know when their baby was sick enough to require a visit to the doctor. Supposedly most parents have instincts that are sharp like English cheese and I think that's great (go species!) but I feel a little wistful because clearly I am evolutionarily inferior.

Wham. That is my head hitting the keyboard. Wham wham wham.

Remember that time when Caroline left her well baby appointment in an ambulance? Or the months Patrick went around looking like one of the Nazgul because a bacterial infection was slowly taking over his head? 

So yesterday Steve and I were running errands* with Caroline and Edward in tow. We went to Target. We went to the shoe store. We went to get some groceries. We bought fabric. And then, by merest chance, we happened to drive past our pediatrician's office at the exact moment that Edward coughed (as he said to me over the weekend "You and me Mommy have big coughs and we are coughing them") and I turned to Steve and said, "Hey, you know, I took him into urgent care over two weeks ago for this congestion. Should we swing in and have someone check him again?"

And Steve looked at the clock, calculated how much time we had until we needed to pick up Patrick, and said, "Yeah I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Long story short: Edward has pneumonia. Kind of a mild pneumonia, I think. A walking pneumonia but still... pneumonia. And I had sent him to sports class.

Wham.

In my defense he has no fever, no discernable wheeze, no alarming blueness... really apart from the gunk he has been a picture of health. Jeez. Pneumonia. Who knew?

+

Speaking of illness, Patrick is going to the Mayo clinic the Monday after Thanksgiving. When our pediatrician suggested this as a next step, he said that the Mayo has two big things going for it: one is that they use a team approach; and the other is that they are used to seeing zebras. Personally I think Patrick (and most likely his baby brother) has some sort of an immune problem. They get colds like other kids and then the colds morph into something swampy and never clear up without pharmaceutical assistance. But it doesn't matter what I think because we're going to the Mayo and no one there will care. Whee! Talk about relieving my anxiety about missing something in my ignorance. Someone in my comments (jokingly) suggested that I should be sure to do copious amounts of google research on all kinds of obscure conditions and bring the printouts with me - she said Mayo doctors love that sort of thing. I laughed. Can you imagine? They don't even let you schedule on your own. I had to have all of Patrick's relevant records sent from the hospital and the ENT and the pediatrician and then they called me after a doctor reviewed it all and told me what department was interested in him. So Patrick is scheduled with an infectious disease specialist who subspecializes in pediatric immune disorders and I think that pretty much covers it.

School continues to go well for him, although I discovered at conferences that he has a wee little problem with, oh you know, finishing any assignment. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending upon your point of view) his teacher is one of those warm, affirmative types who acknowledged that he needs to work a little harder but rushed to point out all of the things he is doing well. Like... socializing. At one point she told me that he is obviously very funny and she always hears peals of laughter coming from his tablemates. And she said it with the fond smile a person might give while discussing the high-spiritedness of a beloved grandchild. I was tempted to tell her that his ability to make his peers laugh in class would only please me if he was actually enrolled in clown college but... hell. I AM pleased that he is having such a good time, although I hid this fact when I returned home and threatened him with every dire repercussion I could think of if he didn't get off his lazy and start getting his schoolwork done.

So between my threats and his homebase teacher's loving acceptance of him (she has asked him to make her some curtains for her classroom - preferably tie-dyed; she's aces) and his math teacher bumping him up another math level I hope next quarter is just as laugh riotous but greatly more productive.

+

I still cannot believe that Steve surprised me on such a massive scale for my birthday. Not only am I shocked that he maintained secrecy in the face of my superhuman nosiness but I am also kinda surprised (and incredibly touched) that he bothered to go to so much trouble. Steve - and heaven knows I love him with the jawcracking force of an exploding two-ton bomb - has never been one for over-the-top romantic gestures. I asked him after the party if the first fifteen years of our relationship had merely been a prelude to this big surprise; if he had been forcing himself to stifle all that thoughtfulness under a carefully constructed veneer of (can you say self-centeredness about someone who spent two months planning your party? no? oh well) in order to deliver a bigger wallop of SURPRISE! He laughed. I still think it is likely.

Anyway, there are a lot of ways to feel loved but in my experience the surprise party was one of the most spectacular and after I arose from my sickbed I was sloshing over with a desire to reciprocate; with a yearning to convey that I am equally smooshy-mooshy about him.

"My darling," I said last Thursday, noting the leafless trees and the herd of deer playing rugby in our front yard, "isn't this the time of year that you like to sit in the woods and threaten innocent creatures with your bow and arrows? Do you want to go down to the farm some time?"

And Steve whipped a duffel bag out of nowhere and shouted, "I was just waiting until you felt better, byyyyeeeee..." and he left so quickly that there were little clouds of dust where he had been standing, just like a roadrunner cartoon. Actually I am exaggerating. He did say that he had been waiting until I felt better and that he would like to go to the farm as soon as possible. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow... but I think today."

I said uh, ok, I guess, go, have fun, I will tend to the home fires and then asked when he was coming back, meaning would he be home in time for the early game on Sunday or not until the late afternoon game?

"Ummm, next Tuesday or Wednesday. I don't know. I'll call you. Love you, byyyeeeeeee."

And then he was gone and I was standing there blinking  because a week of solo parenting (and solo carpooling. solo litterboxes. solo fixing the broken security system, dealing with the tire that has a slow leak, sorting through increasingly complicated business accounting) was a little longer than I had anticipated. Silly me.

In the end Steve was gone all week and in case you are wondering the exact number of You days a surprise party buys a spouse; it is: five. After five days I was done and when Steve came home on day seven I practically threw the children at him and climbed into the bathtub, pulling all of my Agatha Christies in after me.

I'm glad he is home again and the tremendous respect I feel for those of you who regularly manage without an another adult has been renewed three-fold. Children are wonderfully wonderful but they are also bottomless gulleys of sucking need and I find unalleviated 24/7 parenting both stressful and exhausting. 

+

I mentioned that I started running again. I did. And then I started getting shin splints that hurt so much I was hobbling around the house and could barely walk, let alone run. A quick google search indicated that there are two primary causes for shin pain: running too much and bad shoes. One woman on some running board shared the fact that she always got shin splints at the beginning of the season when she accidentally ran ten miles instead of three.

Huh. You don't know me personally and I am sure that many of you frequently find yourself getting so carried away when you exercise that you inadvertently run ten miles but... that is not me. I am a two slow miles if I'm lucky kind of a runner. So, new shoes it was!

I took Patrick with me and handed him one of the cat behavior books we had gotten from the library (he is doing his science fair project on feline something or other.) The shoe guy measured my feet and asked pertinent questions about my shins while Patrick opened his book at random and started reading. He started snickering and then he burst into uncontrolled laughter. I didn't realize cat behavior was so funny so I asked what was amusing him. He said it was a list of cat New Year's resolutions.

"Oh," I said.

"What's a con-dome?" he asked.

I turned red. The shoe guy turned purple.

"What?" I said.

"Con-dome," said Patrick.

"We'll talk about it later," I said. "In the car."

"Why? What is it?" asked Patrick. "Oh and what's co-i-toos?"

I grabbed the book, glanced briefly at the cat resolutions that included a promise not to drag empty condom wrappers through the living room and tossed the book into my purse. Then I sat on my purse.

Patrick said, "HEY!"

The shoe guy said, "So! How do those feel? Good?"

I said, "I'll take them, thank you, no bag" and I walked out wearing one new shoe and one sock, clutching the box with the other shoe in my hands.

The moral of this story is:

Man, I have no idea. How a nice book on cats from the library led to Patrick embarrassing the beejeezums out of me during an otherwise harmless consultation on arch support I have no idea. Coitus! In a cat book!

PS Remind me to talk about holiday gift ideas next time. Tis the season.

PPS Pneumonia!

* No, Steve does not usually drive me around and carry my parcels. In fact I cannot remember the last time he did. However, it turns out that he WANTS TO GO BACK DOWN TO THE FARM THIS WEEKEND and he is trying to butter me up. It's sort of working.

PPPS AHEM! Human coitus. The book referenced cats tactlessly interrupting human coitus. I return to my exclamation points.

PPPPS And I am fine, in theory, discussing sex with Patrick. Just not with Patrick and the shoe guy.

Comments

[Leah]

I absolutely LOVED the infectious disease Dr at Mayo! He asked a gazillion questions and was very thorough. When there was a lab value he didn't understand, he picked up the phone and called the lab right then. That is the lab 3000 miles away. In the end, he was very kind and honest with me...I was sick, but I'd eventually get over it, in years. He knew his stuff and was great, great fun. And reassuring.

[Sarah R]

I'm with you in the same parenting boat. My daughter had strep constantly as a child...constantly! And yet I would still slap my hand on her forehead and say, "Oh you feel fine." only to have my husband do the same thing and say, "Uh, actually, she feels kind of warm." And then we'd stick the thermometer in her mouth and she'd have a fever of 104.

Fortunately, she's now 23, can take her own temperature and doesn't get strep every afternoon.

[elsimom]

Two of my three have had pneumonia. I actually had it myself. I went to urgent care. I asserted that I was coughing, but not weezing - but I came in because I had a feeling "like tissue paper in my chest." Apparently - that's weezing. Who knew? Yeah - so some antibiotics and an inhaler and a feeling that a grown woman (and mother) should probably know when she, herself, is weezing - and a diagnosis of pneumonia.

[kelly]

I have a really random question, does Patrick seem salty when he sweats?

[kelli]

We've missed pneumonia in my son, twice, in the past year, both of which resulted in hospitalization. The first time he was really sleepy for a couple of days and had a fever off and on for a week. Finally took him and and his oxygen saturation was 89%. Anything under 90 and they can start to have organ damage. HUH???? He was immediately hospitalized - they told me to not even go home and pack a bag, but to bring him in and have someone else bring us what we need.

The second time, he had been crabby for a couple of days, but it made sense b/c we were on vacation, two hours behind our time zone. I just thought he was jet lagged and feeling off. No fever, no cough, no previous cold, sniffles, etc. Bought a thermometer just to check, but definitely no fever. Day two of vacation he fell asleep on the train at Carson City, NV. We thought that was weird since the kid LOVES trains, but he was fine by the time we got home, so we didn't think TOO much of it. Next day he insisted he felt great, so we drove to Tahoe and rode the paddle boat. We all had a great time. He napped on the way home, and didn't wake up when we got home. And didn't wake up for 5 hours. I finally took his temp and it was 103. I rolled him over and he was retracting at his throat and sternum. We took him to the hospital and he once again had pneumonia and blood oxygen was 88. This time I knew what was coming, so I at least went to the hospital with jammies and toothbrushes. He was there for almost 5 days.

It still astounds me that it got so bad the second time before we went in. I had some suspicions, but there were absolutely NO visible symptoms and I was worried that if I took him in to the doctor for being crabby, they'd think I was a real headcase. Had we been home, with a pediatrician who knows his history, I would have probably taken him in a day sooner. Next time I won't care where I am or how crazy I'm afraid the doctors are going to think I am. I am seriously considering investing in my own stethoscope....

[Manda]

I had a bizarre dream that I met you and we hung out at your house, and I couldn't wait to get home and blog about it. Does that make me a total nerd?

[Alli]

Steve rocks, I am glad you are going to Mayo with Patrick,cat book story..hilarious. My father was a HUGE Agatha Christie fan and I have a HUGE collection of her books, some rather obscure, in storage. If I ever sell my teeny, tiny house and have room to get my storage out I may just send you some (or all)!

[Crystal]

Ah Julia...

The thought of my newly 100% traveling husband has me sighing in sympathy.

CPS called days after my daughter's son was born last month and said you take them or we take the baby.

So now I'm trying to talk her adoptive mother who feels slighted off the ledge, raise my kids, an adult daughter with mental health issues, and a new Grandbaby (42 is too goddamn young to be a Grandmother, FOR THE SECOND TIME) and turning gray by the fistful of shedding hair.

And I wouldn't trade places with you for all the money in Steve's future inheritance (or current bank account? I'm kinda fuzzy on the particulars, as I should be).

Children should come with domestic help, or vouchers for same.

Too young or not, new Grandbaby is therapy in a little bundle, and one of our goats that we got this summer on the spur of the moment and discovered (the night my daughter arrived with said Grandbaby) with bulgy girl parts and giant udder today blessed us with a perfectly adorable baby girl (a singleton, praise Allah).

There may be enough cuteness around here to shore up my sanity for a little while longer...

Tell Steve the next trip requires a little payment in kind. :^D

Seriously, one party doth not a week away make. Mebbe a nice new year's trip for two? A weekend away?

He could go all It's a Wonderful Life with you on the farm for a day or two, sans kids...

I would love to know how things go with Mayo. The year of moving and the lack of getting any of my specialist referrals or meds since moving here has pretty much trashed what's left of my health. I think it's time for something drastic....

Hope Mayo has wonderful, effective and pleasing answers...

[Karen]

Second opinions ROCK. We had to travel to a different city when my third-born was a baby. He'd been "diagnosed" with a metabolic disorder that Dr. Doom said could lead to coma or death if we didn't feed him a dietary supplement. Said supplement caused said baby to have horrible diarrhea and no sleep. We said Fuck That and went to a human geneticist in the big city, and that doctor looked at me and the baby and said, "Nope. Neither of you have this. It's a dietary deficiency brought on by your celiac disease/years of vegetarianism. Start eating meat and feed the kid formula, you'll be fine."

I hope you find some answers for Patrick (and Edward, should it come to that).

[Karen]

The Christmas I was sixteen, my parents once mistook my agonizing stomach pain + diarrhea + vomiting as "laziness and not wanting to work retail on Christmas Eve." That night--all night, I couldn't sleep-- I was moaning in agony in my bed, and I heard my dad across the hall say, "Do we have any Pepto Bismol? That might shut her up."

At least my mom looked at me the next morning and said, "You're green. You're going to the ER today." And three days later I was operated on and they found an appendix so infected and inflamed that it burst as soon as they got it out.

THAT is bad parenting. Not hearing a cough, a run of the mill cough, and not assuming pneumonia. I certainly wouldn't assume pneumonia unless there was a fever or something.

[Rachel]

I agree with Krissa about the foot strike, which has made a world of difference. I have been running barefoot on the treadmill to get my ankles and feet in shape and then I'm going to run outside with some of those minimalist shoes. But seriously, has made a world of difference in my feelings about running. Love. It.

[Robyn]

This sounds crazy...but I was told by a physical therapist many many years ago to walk backwards on my heels with my toes pointing back towards your body as much as you can. You look rediculous but it does tend to stretch the front part of your shin.

Hope you are all feeling better soon. Happy happy birthday!

[D]

A recent NYT article on how to run - http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/06/magazine/running-christopher-mcdougall.html

The author sure is confident, but I have no idea if his confidence is warranted...