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Category: health

driver 8

Posted on April 2, 2008 by wrekehavoc

driver 8, take a break. we’ve been on this shift too long.

i’ve been single-parenting it since sunday morning. and i love my kids. but i’m so very, very glad that BS just called and said he’s on an earlier flight home today, possibly home by dinnertime.

the nice thing about single-parenting it is that the rules are all mine. if we want to eat chocolate for dinner, we can. (fret not. we didn’t.) if we want to make a tent and sleep in it, we can. if we want to sleep a little later, or wear crazy clothes, we can. dance party with the clash? sure. cos i’m the mom, and i say so.

the bad thing, of course, is that the kids cry for their daddy. they miss him and his regulated schedule, his soft laugh, his scratchy beard, his crankiness. every bit of him, they miss.

i do, too.

(here’s the visual: i am self-medicating. it’s mid-morning, and i’m eating two squares of dark chocolate. it will make me happy. don’t tell me it won’t.)

single-parenting has brought me some stellar experiences over the past few days.

1) the aforementioned dead bat who, by the way, is still very much dead. and still on the lawn, waiting for BS’s special way with a shovel.

2) jools. home. every. single. day. i know many of you do this voluntarily, but i am unused to a very active child, 24/7. we’ve been having a lot of fun together, making hummus and guacamole and such, but i haven’t been getting as much done as i need to do. still, no one is dying because my house is a mess, so i’ll lighten up.

3) BC’s cough. BC has had a cough since sometime last year. (when the pediatrician asked her last week how long she’s been coughing, she answered: since first grade. and she was dead serious.) nothing has stopped it; not inhalers, not singulair; not voodoo dolls. (heh. just kidding. i think.) it’s really beginning to bug her; sunday night, it took her quite awhile to settle down to sleep because of it. i finally put my foot down and told the pediatrician that we need to visit a pulmonary person.

but then, we had to do the medical limbo. for some reason, the pulmonologist can only accomodate people with our stellar insurance (and that’s not sarcastic talk — it is the insurance gold standard around here, and a PPO to boot) in their leesburg office. huh? so i have to pull madam out of school and go through rush hour traffic to get her to the doctor’s office in about two week’s time. yay.

but wait, there’s more: oh, can we add sinus waters study to our pediatrician’s chest x-ray order? a wha?

but dutifully, i get the pediatrician’s office to fax it. i call to check it has made it. apparently, the pediatrician checked the wrong box — it’s an x-ray, not a CT scan. (oh really? you’d think the doctor would know that, the receptionist said. i guess he’d know that before i did, being a real doctor, unlike me.) and around and around we go again.

all the while, jools is glued to nick jr. because i suck as a mom.

so today, for fun (and before the wednesday afternoon carpooling duties hit me), we will go for the aforementioned x-rays.

i can hardly wait.

4) yesterday, a magical experience where a friend of BC’s insisted that she had cleared an afterschool playdate with her babysitter. pleasepleaseplease let BC take the bus home with me. pulllllease!!! i said i would drive BC over and just check with the babysitter, since we had not yet met, much less cleared anything. the babysitter was rather surprised at the idea of a playdate; we apologized and moved on.

5) while driving home from said non-playdate, lecturing BC about why i don’t just send her on the bus with any friend who insists that a playdate is ok with the adult-on-duty, i saw a police officer with a laser, and it was pointed at ME. and whoomp: there it was. 37 in a school zone. i have actually made it to my advanced age having never gotten pulled over for speeding. i’m an excellent driver, you know. and now, i’m speeding, albeit not wildly, but technically speeding nonetheless. don’t cry, mama, BC said. you can’t cry in front of a police officer.

oh girl. yes. you. can.

the officer took my license and registration and went back to his motorcycle to call it in. julian kept asking me what was going on. i muttered and muttered. leave mama alone, i heard BC bark at jools. i muttered that my husband and his brother, a police officer, were probably going to laugh at me over this one day. i pictured it in my mind’s eye: yeah, my wife is such an idiot, she doesn’t know what to do when she’s pulled over for a ticket. i muttered because it kept me from crying over my very first traffic infraction at age 40+.

the officer returned and started telling me about prepaying the ticket versus the court date, etc. etc. suddenly, a voice shrilly commanded from the backseat:

exCUSE MEEEEEEEEEE!

it was jools. oh shit. now i’ll get ticketed for some parenting violation, too: this woman has rude children. lock her up.

please officer: i’ve been home alone with two kids for a few days, and i’m a little wound. can you take pity on me and just ticket me over the car and ignore the fact that my young son doesn’t grasp the concept of decorum? pleaseohpleaseohplease?

excuse me, i said to the officer. okay, jools, what do you want?

no, i want to talk to the policeman.

doubleshitdoubleshitdoubleshit. i peered at the officer through my window. is it ok, sir?

sure. what can i do for you? he asked jools.

my uncle mikey is a police officer! he announced to the officer.

is he really? the officer asked. where is he a police officer?

in new jersey, i replied.

BC pulled the facts together: my uncle mikey is a police officer in NEW JERSEY!

well then, he replied, i’m going to give you a warning, thanks to uncle mikey. he crossed out my court date and wrote W A R N I N G over it. slow down, okay?

yes, sir. i took a deep breath as he walked away from my car. karma pulled through for me. all those times i let people in instead of cutting them off; all those times as a patient and courteous driver — it all came back to me in the guise of a kind police officer.

and it also made me thankful for my brother-in-law. my husband has only one brother. lucky for me, he happens to be a terrific person who happens to be a police officer. he risks his life daily, and he’s a person we are all very proud of in this family. and i bet he has been in this situation before and he has been kind. i just know it. he has a good heart.

i waved at the police officer as we drove past; he waved back in that serious, Adam-12 sort of way. i bet he has an insane sister-in-law, too.

last night, jools got a honkin’ big bowl of his favorite ice cream. and BC finished her solid chocolate easter bunny.

my rules, cos i’m the adult-on-duty. and i think that’s fair.

sick city

Posted on March 27, 2008 by wrekehavoc

i look a little like this when i’m sick.

after weeks of little people coughing on me, trips to ~~petri dishes teeming with germs~~ the pediatrician’s office, and an evening in cold night air, i’ve come down with a dilly of a cold, preceded by a day of never-ending bloody nose. mmm. you want to come and have a cup of tea with me, i’m sure.

so i’m bummed. i was going to have lunch with some old friends, but i want to share love, not germs. i’m going to nap, but when i’m sick, i spend time just vegetating. last night, while surrounded by tissues and attempting to breathe, i watched a new show, i know my kid’s a star, starring danny bonaduce. i admit that there are times when i am addicted to reality tv like the next person; i remember the early series’ of real world on mtv (you know, before people on the show slept with other people on the show — at least, not on camera.) and i loved watching the osbournes in spite of the fact that the kids made me crazy with their spoiled behavior.

but this show pulls reality tv into a shameful place.

all parents think the sun shines out of their kids’ backsides. and now, there seems to be a serious wave of stage parents who must see their children more as a mealticket instead of as their loving offspring. young people who started out as child film, tv, or movie stars are imploding all around us: britney spears, lindsay lohan, even mccauley culkin. and yet somehow, these people overlook that. they claim their kids want this. and maybe the kids do.

you know, my kids want to eat candy all. day. long. it’s my job as a mom to say no, not just to be mean, but to teach them and protect them.

honestly, i didn’t see a talented kid in the bunch, anyway; but that didn’t stop parents from spending serious money and time on making their kid a star. except for one, all of the parents were clueless about how the business of hollywood works. and it’s abundantly clear that one parent, rocky, is pushing her star fantasy on her child. she clearly needs to be on camera and won’t let her daughter practice alone. the pressure she puts on her kid is unbelievable: let’s buy that dreamhouse.

why not just let the kid get barbie’s dreamhouse instead?

reality tv is exploitative; and if you’re a grownup and you sign up for that, then fine. but there’s something incredibly creepy about the fact that these are children. little kids who are going to be humiliated from coast to coast. it’s wrong.

i’m going to go take some cold medicine. to blot out the pain.

life and how to live it

Posted on March 6, 2008 by wrekehavoc

today, BC and i watched a Diagnosis X where a healthy young long island guy suddenly experiences gastrointestinal issues and paralysis. finally, a doctor realizes he has guillan-barre which is an autoimmune illness not entirely unlike the ITP i had two years ago. his immunoglobulins were shot, like mine, so they start him on the magical IVIG, and he starts to improve and live a better life, although it takes him a year or two to re-learn how to walk. which he does. thank G-d.

of course, once i saw that the dude had an autoimmune problem, i started to get a little nervous. when they started him on immunotherapy, i started to tear up. sometimes, TV hits a little too close to home, and i feel so terrible watching people go through things like this. i remember all too well how scary it is when you’re body is going through a revolt and you feel helpless to stop it.

it’s like the flashback that never really leaves you.

enter BC, just as they’re hanging the guy’s IV bag. she sees me all teary.

BC: mama, you really shouldn’t watch these shows with me if they make you so sad.

me: honey, i’m ok. (sniff sniff) i just get a little sad watching someone go through that. you know, people die from this sort of thing. and he’s getting treated with the same stuff i get. i just hope he gets better.

BC: is this like what you have?

me: well, sorta. its a different problem, but it’s autoimmune, and its one of those things that just sneaks up on you and makes you sick and you never knew what happened.

BC: (with insistence) but you’re not going to die.

me: no, honey. i’m not.

cartoon network is looking better and better to me these days.

she blinded me with science

Posted on February 28, 2008 by wrekehavoc

BC has a big science test today. we’ve been reading about the sun, the moon, the tides, matter, molecules, and atoms. she even drew me the little H2O drawing that we did in beginning chemistry. in 10th grade.

BC is in third grade.

i love the way the teacher writes out a plan of attack for studying. each day, we have been studying from a sheet; and each day, we add a little more, then a little more, then a little more. i hope this sort of thing rubs off on madam, as she clearly doesn’t seem to be a person who wants to study because, to quote her, i know this stuff already, mama.

it’s nice to be doogie howser, but you still need to study, darling.

girlfriend seems to be heavily interested in science these days. i’m secretly glad of this, as i somehow never got jazzed much about it. (in fact, i must say that i have probably learned as much about earth and rotation and revolution in this little study exercise as she has.) her TV faves include untold stories of the ER, diagnosis X, and of course my personal fave, trauma: life in the ER — with occasional interruptions from the shows about people having babies, which she likes, too.

while i am secretly glad that it moves her away from some of the crappy cartoons she is prone to watching, i often wonder whether i should be more concerned. girlfriend doesn’t care about watching actual bloody surgeries. and she gets irritated when i start to weep, especially when we watched these two egyptian twins get detached from each other’s brains.

yesterday, we watched a show where a western NJ boy (yes, of course, all magical things happen in NJ) got med-evac’d to UMDNJ in scenic newark because he sawed off two fingers in shop class (moral: mamas don’t let your babies grow up and take shop class.) i couldn’t watch as the kid showed his hands. girlfriend watched with keen interest.

mama, she always reminds me, if you can’t handle it, you should really leave the room. later, she asked me what the words in front of the show meant.

oh, i replied, you mean “viewer discretion is advised”?

yep.

uh, viewer discretion advised means i should use MY discretion over YOUR viewing time, sister.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IlHgbOWj4o

no new tale to tell

Posted on February 21, 2008 by wrekehavoc

my world is your world. people like to hear their names. i’m no exception. please call my name.

especially if you’re working in a doctor’s office.

today, i went to see a pulmonary doctor on the advice of both my beloved hematologist (AKA the man who saved my life) and the truly caring infectious diseases doctor who is able to procure my gammaglobulin since the aforementioned hematologist could not. i’ve been avoiding this, if only because my brother (AKA Brother The Doctuh), who is not only a medical professional but also has CVID like i do, already listened to my two lung CT scan reports and pronounced the nodules found therein as unremarkable. (actually, in big brotherly speak, he actually said that his nodules were bigger. yeah, he may be a doctor, but he’s still my big brother. i’m sure his crap is bigger than mine, too.)

but i finally broke down and went, as i respect the other two doctors and know that i would be in for a major can of whoop-ass should i not follow up, at least from my hematologist’s nurse practitioner (who has been extremely nice to me, especially when i was basically manic on prednisone and freaking out on her in person.)

i’m sure the doctor in question knows his stuff and is highly respected in his field, but this was not one of my better medical establishment experiences.

perhaps i’m spoiled: everyone at the hematologist’s is nice, from the receptionist (who was working in the back when i was due for my last appointment and stuck a little yellow stickie on my bill with Hi Ms. Wreke! 🙂 🙂 🙂 ; to the hematologist himself (who has called me at home on weekends to touch base about things.) the doctor who provides the IViG is very pleasant and thorough; and the awesome chick who sticks me every four weeks (and who reads this blog, so Hi, Summer!!) rocks — and i’m not just saying that because she comes after me with a sharp object each month, either. my primary care doc listens and cares and knows me for the medical freak i am (let’s see: shingles, ITP, CVID — he is no longer surprised by anything i bring him, and he knows i’m not crazy when i walk in and share something bizarre. plus, he’s from jersey.)

so today, i came in a half-hour early to fill in the paperwork. i brought CDs of my chest CTs as well as my latest blood results and my letter proclaiming that I have CVID. (i was prepared, people.) and, truth be told, the nurse called me in a timely manner to take my temp, weight, height, blood pressure, and even make me take a breathing test. then, i went into a room. and i waited. and read metropolitan home. and waited. and read good housekeeping. and waited. and read child magazine. and waited. an hour after my appointment time (and an hour and a half after i arrived at the office), the doctor came by and told me to come into his office.

why are you here? he asked. well, in truth, i don’t want to be here.

i’m here because my doctors want me to have a baseline experience with a pulmonary doc.

why?

because i have CVID.

is that hypogammaglobulinemia?

yep.

and?

people with CVID end up with bronchiectasis, and since since i have nodules, they want to know how often i should go for scans. the radiologist says twice a year; i am from nj and i don’t want to push my luck since i probably already glow in the dark.

well, i can’t read your radiology CDs — the pop-up blocker won’t let me see anything. this doesn’t happen with the CDs from Radiology Shop X.

you want me to fix it so you can see them? i’m a geek; i can do that for you.

no.

i won’t go into the play-by-play, but i ended up with an x-ray which shows i have some minor bronchiectasis, but nothing screamingly-scary. and the upshot is that i should go for a scan once a year.

what really bugged me, though, was that i was supposed to get a checkup. and i suppose he did listen to me breathe. but every time i tried to tell him about my breathing issues (freaky little things like weather-related asthma, stopping breathing while i sleep — that sort of thing) he ignored me and pushed on, like i was making him late for lunch or something.

you know, i saw the sign when i first walked into the office: if you are 15 minutes late, you will need to schedule a new appointment. what exactly do i get since he was an hour late for me? a cookie? a lotto ticket? a break on my co-pay?

i would understand if i were at the OB-Gyn’s where suddenly, women walk in and start dropping babies. but no one stopped breathing while i was there, not even the elderly man who was just getting over the flu (and who showed the nurse how the cloth bandaids help him repair his portable air tank) and who still made it in to the doctor’s office, along with his wife, also getting over the flu. (thanks for sharing the bugs, people.)

i guess my point here is not to go after sick old men. my point is that i really hate when medical professionals treat me like i am some sort of inconvenient boil that needs to be lanced from the schedule. and it has happened plenty to me in my short but eventful career as a human. i often wonder what this experience feels like to people who are perhaps less educated, or poor, or elderly. does it feel like par for the course?

my brother once told me that people who lacked a decent bedside manner in med school usually went into radiology. i guess there are always exceptions; some don’t go into radiology. and, while i have encountered plenty of radiologists who have the personality of a small soap dish, i have also met radiologists who actually exuded warmth and caring — i’m thinking about times when i had a false mammogram scare, and i’m thinking about a day when i lost a baby.

medical situations can be scary. you can read all you want on the internet, but until you see a live doctor, it doesn’t really all pull together and make sense. so you need to. but it is a disconcerting experience when you come out of a doctor’s visit feeling like you shouldn’t have bothered, as it clearly didn’t matter to the doctor. it really doesn’t take that much to make a person feel like a person.

you know what? he never, ever, called me by my name.

girlfriend

Posted on February 14, 2008 by wrekehavoc

dearest BS,

i’m probably going to be hooked up to an IV while you’re reading this, doing my best to stay awake during my 5-6 hour monthly marathon of IVIG goodness for my CVID. not exactly a romantic way to spend the bulk of valentine’s day, but on the other hand, it’s my best present i can give to you: more time with me. see, i know i’m just the perfect wife.

my cooking skills are impeccable.

my plumbing and laundering skills are astonishing.

and what’s more, i’m just the best. mother. ever.

how did you ever get so damn lucky? now if only i could actually purchase, er, i mean, if only santa was a mind-reader and could get you the presents you wanted, we’d be all set. hey — give santa a break and a clue next year, k?

in the meantime, i’m doing my best to be healthy so that i can be the bane of your existence for as long as i can be.

please do the same.

love,

your girlfriend

p.s. the comic book guy lets the girl drive the car to safety. just pointing it out. he’s in the car; she’s driving. what an idea!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fgo6dFWY6sE&rel=1

lost in the supermarket

Posted on January 17, 2008 by wrekehavoc

yesterday was not my day to be a consumer.

first, there was target. my beloved target (motto: walk in here for one item. walk out with $50 worth of merchandise.) the store where there’s probably an aisle with my name on it. someone somewhere heard BC’s pleas to make the C9 running pants and shirts for girls as well as for boys. (she’s told me that she often wears the same outfits as three boys in her class.) they are great buys (compared to underarmor) and especially terrific when girlfriend engages in sports. two days ago, when jools was home with me, we had to run an errand at target (that would be before we went out to the park in the 20+ degree freezing weather and played) and i noticed that there were spring versions of the C9 shirts and pants in the girls department. in colors like pink and purple, even — which, for BC, is a major coup since she really hates trotting around in black and grey (at least one shirt is red). so i guessed at her size and picked up a few things.

only, in the words of junie b, too bad for me. i picked the wrong size. i had to make a return. when i looked at my receipt, though, that ms. target had overcharged me one extra pair of running pants. usually, i check my receipts like mrs. pathmark (mrs. pathmark is what my dad calls any grocery checkout person who checks every single item to make sure every coupon has a corresponding item. clearly, this term predates computerized checkouts.) but with jools in tow, i didn’t even get a chance to look at the receipt. i was lucky i found my keys.

so back i went to make my return. i told the lady that additionally, i was overcharged for an extra pair of pants which i did not buy. she proceeded to call security. (note to self: you really ought to start wearing makeup. you scare people on most days without it.) the burly security woman looked me over, then went into some place some where. i don’t know whether there are tapes of every single transaction made or whether they just want to see whether you’re pissed enough to wait 15-20 minutes to get your money back. but wait i did; and after 20 minutes of wasted time, the burly lady came out, pronounced me honest, and they gave me my money back.

on to sears, where a return went so much better. i never shop at sears (i was returning a lands end item); i think i might have to reconsider.

then, on to shoppers food ~~hellhouse~~ ~~house of babel~~ warehouse. i hate SFW, but BS received some giftcards there from the credit card company as a reward, so off i went to do marketing. other than the fact that the stench of their meat department makes me want to hurl, the place isn’t so bad. in fact, their international food offerings rock, reflecting the incredibly diverse population that hits this store. one pleasant moment was noticing that the middle eastern foods sit peacefully beside the kosher foods. somewhere, someone is smiling. (besides me, i mean.)

but at checkout time, i showed the gift cards to the cashier. how much they for? she asked. the cards don’t have a denomination on them. sorry, i don’t know, i replied. that’s great. just greeeeeaaaat, she replied, passive-aggressive smile gleaming. hello and excuse me, but don’t you use computers that let you know precisely what people have? all the other local stores do. or should i alert stockholders that you’re still in the dark ages of mrs. pathmark? i had to run those things through several times before peace reigneth.

ugh. home at last with just an hour to spare before i had to pick up BC (because wednesday is half-day elementary school day throughout the county. i love having extra time with my girl, but there’s something weird about the kids having a half-day every single blessed week.) i get home to a voicemail from my beloved pal, the nurse whom i adore, the one who gives me my IVIG every four weeks. please call, she says. i need your help.

the poor thing spent the entire morning trying to get the pharmacy to release my gammagard, which i was supposed to have today. it had been authorized by health insurance last week, but somehow, the people who actually release the IVIG hadn’t gotten the news. and hours of trying, in between actually helping patients, was not working. could i help?

so i started to work the phones. the pharma told me they needed prior authorization. Blue Cross told me that i’ve been authorized since last week and that the pharma needs to call, just as they always do. i called the pharma back; the woman told me that she had to ask a certain someone a question and that she was not there at the moment; could she call me back? AAAAAARGH. all she needed to do was call BC/BS and they’d tell her the news. but noooo. by about 3 p.m., you really wanted to keep me away from sharp objects. fun things i had planned to do with BC were shelved as i waited for the phone call. (we ended up making funky rice krispie treats, so all was not lost. but still.)

by 4:30, my favorite nurse told me that she was about to call a VP at the pharma. she called back a few minutes later. my meds would arrive Thursday (today) at noon. so let’s move the appt to friday.

ironically, the woman from the pharma company called about a half hour after my favorite nurse (who reads this blog, incidentally — so hi!!! and thank you!!!) and told me that she had been working on this all afternoon. call your doctor’s office in an hour and see whether there’s any progress. my doctor’s office closed ten minutes ago, i replied. but by that point, i was past caring. i clearly wasn’t getting the gammaguard on thursday.

some days, you shoulda stood in bed.

doledrum

Posted on January 7, 2008 by wrekehavoc

oh, no. don’t go down to doledrum.

yesterday, i was in a foul, foul mood. i was getting a nose and ear infection. while in conversation with BS, i had a random nosebleed, which made me burst into tears (i don’t really have nosebleeds, and the last time i had a big ol’ burster was when my platelets were in the toilet. the proverbial damn broke, and there was nothing to stop the bleeding. it was scary.) my platelets can’t possibly be in the toilet, though, as i got some terrific numbers back last week on them. time for that deep breath…

anyhow, the icing on the cake: i dealt with an hysterical son who didn’t want to go to sunday school and who felt like i wasn’t listening to him even though i told him countless times i was (repeating his words, even), but that the answer was still the same. you try to teach your children to use their words, and they do. but then, there’s lesson #2 — sometimes, you use your words, but it doesn’t mean you will get the desired result.

believe me, i hated hebrew school. hatedhatedHATED it. the best part was running races in the front before class and hiding out in the toilets. which i did. all through third grade. cos the teacher and her long, pointy, chewed-on nails terrified me. but after being bat mitzvah’d, i felt like i had accomplished something. i had learned something. i want that for my kids. i don’t care if the very next day after the bat/bar mitzvah, BC decides to become a hare krishna and jools decides to become a satan worshiper. halleluyah to both of them. but i just want to share a little of their culture with them. after all, you can’t reject it if you ain’t got it in the first place, right?

jools ended up having a wonderful time at hebrew school. he made me a cardboard tree in honor of tu bishvat and planted a little parsley seedling (the dirt kind of shifted upside down on the car ride home, so we’ll see whether there’s any parsley for the seder.) he told me that trees give us air. maybe i need to stand closer to a tree and breathe in, as it drives me insane that this child has the short-term memory of dory from finding nemo. he always has a great time, but then he forgets and carries on for the next time. and i just don’t know how to get him to remember.

ah well. the day improved. i raced with jools and played in the backyard with both kids. BC asked if we could finally make the pinecone feeder treats for the birds, the project i’ve been stalling on. see, normally, i cringe thinking about the mess this project (peanut butter and bird seeds, anyone?) would make. but i thought, aw hell. let the kid take the lead. you’re not doing a very good job with your day, so maybe this will improve things. and it did, with us covered in peanut buttery-seedy goodness. oh well. have sink and broom; will travel.

then, after we hung the pinecones in the tree, i took a deep breath again and let jools out on the street under BC’s watchful gaze. i have a hard time letting the kids out without supervising them. (it’s so different from when i was a kid and i would just leave the house and roam the neighborhood without anyone worrying i would end up in a bad place.) the two were going to see whether anyone wanted to come out and ride scooters on our dead-end street. after ten minutes of angst, i looked outside to see 6 kids, two parents, and a dog. in short, my kids started a little impromptu neighborhood scooter party. which i joined. (BC even was permitted to walk said dog. she shoots, she scores!)

my kids nearly send me down the proverbial rabbit hole sometimes, but they always know how to find me there and pull me out.

i just have to open my mind and let them.

give blood

Posted on January 4, 2008 by wrekehavoc

one of my oldest friends, wah, has moved back into the area from scenic wisconsin (motto: hey look — another cow!) i am so thrilled beyond belief that she’s in chevy chase (even though i’m not.) today, we were going to try an exercise class together — something called nia, a sort of meditation, stretching, and dancing kind of experience which my friend adores, especially since it relieves some of the agony and pain she has from a condition. i’m all about that earthy-crunchy old fashioned spirituality stuff, so i’ve always wanted to join her. and we were going to go this morning but alas! wah had a flare up and the poor girl was in serious pain. another day. (feel better, wah!)

so back i went to the community center to do my BFL workout. as i walked in, i noticed that there’s a red cross blood drive going on. i looked at the woman at the sign-in table. she looked at me. i continued to look. she continued to look back at me. i finally snapped myself out of it and walked over to the locker room. damn, i thought, one more thing i can no longer do.

see, BS and i used to give blood all the time, so much so that you’d think we were deeply concerned about the vampire community. i gave at my workplace, he gave at his, it was just something we did. something easy that really helped people. i always loved talking to the people i’d meet when i went at work. once, while i worked at ED (motto: education is a state and local policy area, but somehow, here we are!), i ended up giving blood and chatting with Senator Rockefeller’s daughter, Valerie, in the cot beside me.

we gave blood on our anniversary. (i figured we were happy and this was one way to share it with someone who needed a little happy in his life.) the funny thing about giving blood with your spouse is that you pretty much are forced to have a conversation. it’s hard to hold a magazine (though believe me, BS tried), and you can’t exactly walk away while it’s happening, so it’s actually a perversely solid bunch of uninterrupted couple time. and you get to toast each other afterwards with oreos.

i even remember when we had a day off, the day after hurricane katrina. we were going to go to six flags, but OOPS – it was closed. so we figured, what the hell — we’ll donate (cos they’ll probably need more blood thanks to the hurricane) and then go out to lunch. there we were at PF Changs afterwards. the server noticed that we had bandaged arms. he asked us if we had just donated because of katrina. we said yes. he excused himself, then came back a few minutes later. my manager and i would like to thank you for your public spirit by giving you a free appetizer. well, woowee! that’s better than the free cookies and juice the red cross gives out!

but now, i can’t do it anymore.

see, i had a transfusion when my platelets decided to run off to brazil. without that blood, i might not be here, annoying you with my blather. (no one say yay about that. i’m lifting weights now, and i’m strong enough to smack you silly.) and now, i get IVIG infusions for CVID, which are ::drum roll please:: gammaglobulin, a blood product. so no one wants my blood anymore. it bums me out, because this is one of the easiest public service things anyone (over 110 pounds!) can do.

so think about it today. (not you, dee. you’re about to drop two puppies.) and hell, find a blood drive here, at your workplace, or through your local hospital. you’ll be doing a good deed. and maybe your blood won’t be the blood that saves my life, but you can damn well be sure it will save someone else’s. i’ll never know who gave the blood that saved me from total brain bleed-down. but i’ll always be eternally grateful.

and maybe i’ll have to find a new way to contribute… maybe organizing something like this.

breaking the girl

Posted on January 3, 2008 by wrekehavoc

it has happened yet again. BC loves to go over her buddy ella’s house to play. apparently, it is more fun to go there than for them to come here. why? because ella has a dog. they spend a lot of time playing with the dog, which, for animal-loving BC, is heaven on earth.

BC (AKA the girl who would be a vet) has asked for a dog at least one hundred zillion times. unfortunately, the answer is always the same: i’m allergic. i love animals, too; but when i get allergic reactions to pets, i have trouble breathing. when i have trouble breathing, i often end up with an infection. and the rest, as they say, is history. i do fine visiting most pet people’s houses (unless they have massive animal hair covering everything), but i draw the line at living with a shedder. to her credit, BC has pointed out that there are animal breeds that work better for the allergy sufferers of the world. that well may be, but i have enough health issues to warrant my not adding yet another potential source of joy.

so today, i had to tell her for the umpteenth time: no dog. she was getting a little frustrated with me. the feeling was mutual; and finally, blearyteary-eyed, i said to her: do you really think i feel great about not being able to do certain things because of something i can’t control?

don’t you start crying again, mama. i think she was trying to make me laugh. it didn’t work too well. it’s hard to explain to your child why she can’t have a dog; why she needs a flu shot; why all sorts of things just are, simply because your mom is built the way she’s built: goofy in the mind department and not exactly perfect in the health department.

sigh.