I was duped into thinking Katie’s fever was gone.
It came back this afternoon.
Now it’s gone again.
I think it’s playing with me.
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So it appears that when you have a sick kid who has either the H1N1 flu or the regular flu (and really, does it matter?), and you can’t stop conjuring up the worst-case scenarios in your head, you don’t really sleep so well. I really tried to listen to the calm nurse practitioner part of me that was saying, “She’s healthy. Her lungs sound fine. Her fever is under control.” As opposed to the mother in me that kept screaming, “SHE COULD STOP BREATHING ANY MINUTE! HER BRAIN IS BEING FRIED BY THE FEVER!!!”
The mommy in me has a big loud mouth.
Which leads to a day in which about all I could summon up the energy for is a marathon of Bravo TV shows. I came to the conclusion that, with the exception of Top Chef, the network should really call itself “The Narcissistic Network”. Heavens to Betsy, those are some self centered people. From that lollipop head Rachel Zoe to those Housewives from Atlanta (nothing real about them) ( and what is that thing that Sharee does with her eyes when she is posing for a picture?) to those kids selling million dollar real estate in California, I don’t think any of them have ever had a thought of something outside of themselves.
But it was either that or a Sponge Bob Squarepants marathon with Katie.
I’m not sure I made the right choice.
Thanks for the well wishes. She is feeling better today. After hitting a high of >104 yesterday evening her temp has stayed down most of the day. She’s breathing better and reading her books. She even spent some time playing piano. So things are looking up.
Now I’ll have to come up with another excuse to spend the day watching bad television.
Katie has the flu.
Having the flu stinks.
She is miserable and feverish and coughing and pitiful.
And a little scared because of all the news about the H1N1 flu and because I shared with her some information a few days ago about someone who died from complications of the flu.
That, in retrospect, was perhaps not the wisest move on my part.
I thought that by telling her I could impress on her the importance of hand washing and coughing with her mouth covered.
All it appears to have done is cause her to be exceedingly anxious.
(Oh, my mother is going to be so unhappy with me about this……)
So if you wish, say a little prayer for her.
And cover your mouth when you cough.
I don’t know if it is the multiple applications of sunscreen and bug spray that I’ve doused the girls with over the last couple of weeks, but they are a dermatological mess. Elena’s skin feels like sandpaper and both girls have some sort of pigmentation problem going on on their faces. Elena also has some sort of mysterious rash that kind of comes and goes.
Yes, I am a nurse practitioner. No, I have no idea what’s going on with them.
That’s what dermatologists are for.
We are headed back east today. I’m hoping that returning to our native land will remedy all our skin aliments.
And if you hear a giant sucking noise this afternoon about 2pm, that will be my skin attempting to pull some moisture back into itself. Lord have mercy it is dry out here.
For the first time in recorded history, I am actually looking forward to some humidity.
I am easily talked into joining most anything. Especially if it has any sort of competitive edge to it. So when one of the bloggers I follow issued a challenge to join her in a 30 day fitness challenge, I was all over it.
I immediately ordered the DVD, it came two days later and then I just laid it down and tried to forget that I’d kind of promised to do this thing. Everyday, the woman on the cover of the DVD would glare at me in a very mocking way and every day I would find some way to put off starting for one more day.
But then Big Mama and Boo Mama wrote about their experiences and Vicki did a follow up asking how everyone was doing and my guilt got the better of me. I decided that today was the day.
Oh how I regret that decision tonight.
I’ll admit that after reading some of the comments from other people that were doing the challenge, I was feeling a little superior. I mean, I run several times a week and I think of myself as being in pretty good shape. And this workout? It’s only 20 minutes long! How hard could it possibly be? All these babies whining about how hard it is. Hummph. They must be REALLY out of shape. I was sure that I would breeze right through without even breaking a sweat. And since there are 3 levels, I was pretty sure I was in such an advanced state of fitness that I probably should skip right on into level 2.
Oh how the proud have fallen.
This is the woman who brought me to my knees. And I may never get up.
I wouldn’t go as far as calling this woman a devil, but she must have some experience with the dark side to be able to pack that much misery into a mere 20 minutes. Five minutes into it, I was sweating. Ten minutes into it I was calling for my mother. Fifteen minutes in found me begging the Lord for mercy. By the end, all I could do was whimper and collapse onto the floor.
I am not kidding. That’s the hardest workout I’ve ever done in my life. Minutes after I finished, the phone rang and since I have a terrible habit of carrying the phones all around the house and then laying them down and forgetting them, I had to go upstairs to find the receiver. I was pretty sure my legs weren’t going to hold me going up the stairs. They were a quivering mess.
THREE HOURS later, I was making some chocolate chip cookies (yes, I appreciate the irony of this) and the recipe called for me to whisk the batter vigorously for 30 seconds. I am not lying when I say that that simple movement brought tears to my eyes.
I can hardly wait to see how I feel when I wake up in the morning.
So here is my question. I’ve watched her work out these seriously out of shape, morbidly obese, unhealthy people on The Biggest Loser for 3 seasons. How in the world do these people not die right there on the gym floor? I have a new found respect for all of them.
And a resolve to continue this journey. If they can do it, I’ve got no excuse in the world. Even though I may sleep on the couch tonight to avoid walking up the stairs.
P.S. I double dog dare you to join me. You can order the DVD here, or just pick it up at Target or Wal-Mart. Come on! It’ll be fun!
Okay, no it won’t. But misery loves company! And I’ll need all the accountability I can get.
It seems as though we have started a pattern.
Every weekend someone has to get hurt.
There is a history of this in my immediate family. For years we dreaded the 4th of July. Without fail something would befall one of us kids. One year I burned my hand badly, another year my brother had an encounter with the sharp end of a board that may or may not have been partially my fault.
Last weekend, Elena got kicked by a horse.
This weekend?
Remember that Katie is playing on her first softball team?
And that she is playing catcher?
Well, see that ball headed toward her glove? Evidently even at age 10 the pitcher has enough oomph behind her throws that if you put your ungloved hand up before the ball smacks nice and secure into your gloved hand, you can do damage to said hand.
She complained about her little finger a bit and because I am a kind and concerned mother, I told her to put some ice on it, gave her some Motrin and returned to whatever I was doing.
And then when it looked more swollen this morning I sprang into action by giving her more Motrin and more ice.
Then I made her practice piano.
Turns out her songs have a lot of notes requiring the use of the right hand’s fifth finger.
Oh, and when one of my friends suggested that it might be broken, I promptly poo-pooed her.
But then I went upstairs and found Katie behind her closed bedroom door with big old tears in her eyes. She looked at me pitifully and said, “Mama, it really hurts.”
Yeah, I guess it did.
Cause it was broken.
Her piano teacher is going to be thrilled. I’m steeling myself for a scolding. Piano teachers sometimes don’t understand parents who put their children’s fingers in harm’s way.
Luckily it looks like she’ll only be out of commission for a week.
I can’t wait to see what next weekend has in store!
It happened again tonight. I was talking with one of my adolescent girl patients while doing her annual physical. I love these visits. I have a captive audience for 30 whole minutes. They don’t have their cell phones or a computer to compete for my attention. And for some reason, even though I am the same age as most of their parents, they don’t put me in the same category. They tell me everything. I ask lots of questions and I’m always surprised at how open they are with me. We talk about school and sports. I get a good sense of how they get along with their parents by the things they say. They tell me about getting their driver’s license and what schools they hope to go to once they graduate from high school.
Then we usually talk about sex.
Many times they tell me things I don’t really want to hear. I’m not naive enough to think that teenagers aren’t having sex. Not all of them are, of course, but a great many are experimenting with some form of sexual activity. I’ve learned to be very specific when I ask them questions because they have their own definition of what constitutes sexual activity.
We could debate the morality of this behavior all day long. That’s not what I want to talk about tonight, though. What concerns me is the many girls that are engaging in sexual activity when they don’t really want to. I’m not talking about girls being forced into doing things they don’t want to do, but when I ask them if they are enjoying it they usually just shrug their shoulders. When I ask why they continue to do things that they don’t enjoy, they shrug again. Many of these girls are only on the giving end of things (if you know what I mean).
One girl told me that she’s only “servicing” her boyfriend on special occasions. I’ll bet her boyfriend is hoping every day is a special occasion.
I wonder what to say to them. Of course I tell them how to keep themselves physically safe. I give them birth control and I give them vaccines. This I can do.
But I struggle with another part of this. What do I say to them to convince them to keep themselves emotionally healthy? To convince them that they shouldn’t engage in behavior that only benefits their partners. That a healthy relationship is mutually beneficial. That just because their bodies are ready for something doesn’t mean that their hearts and minds are ready.
It saddens me. It makes me want to continue to talk to my girls about stuff in an age appropriate way. Because when I ask these kids if they’ve thought about talking to their parents about sex, most look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
As one girl said, “If my Mom had talked to me about the little stuff, maybe I could talk to her about the big stuff.”
A couple of years ago it became clear that my metabolism was not what is used to be. By that, I mean that I could no longer eat a whole sleeve of Girl Scout cookies (trefoils, please. I’m a purist.) and not see the results of it the next time I tried to put on my jeans.
And since I made a vow long ago that I would never allow my butt to be bigger than my husband’s, I knew I had to take action.
For a while increasing the speed of my walks helped, but it didn’t last. I realized that I was going to have to step things up a bit. I’d run on and off for years and thought that picking that back up might do the trick.
Here’s the thing. I never really liked to run. I’d be miserable the first half mile, cussing by the second and giving up by the third. I’d get shin splints and my feet would hurt. I’d be consistent for several weeks and then fall off the wagon completely.
Until now.
Podrunner Intervals have totally changed the way I feel about running. The music is good and the pace is just fast enough to make me break a sweat without being so fast that I think I might die. Because I’d been running a bit before I started the first one, I jumped right into the 8K weeks. Now I’m on week 4 of the 10K and really enjoying it. It’s motivating and it moves you along so gradually that you hardly realize that you are running a little bit farther and longer each week.
So get some good fitting running shoes (this is REALLY important, so have someone fit you who knows what they are doing) and download these mixes (either directly from the website above or from itunes) and get started.
Your butt will thank you.
My friend Candy is in town. We met about 4 years ago and were instantly smitten by one another. She and I have one of those rare friendships that feels completely balanced and equal. I never go away from time spent with her feeling anything but uplifted and affirmed.
She and Jack moved to Colorado about a year into our friendship. And although I sorely miss our weekly lunch dates, we have managed to see each other at least a couple times a year because the vast majority of her family, including her precious new granddaughter, still lives here.
I called Candy last night to share some really good news and left her a message to call me when she could. When she called later, she listened to my news and was excited with me. Only afterwards did she say, “Oh by the way, I’m here in Virginia. Mom’s in the hospital. It looks pretty serious.”
I’d never met Candy’s mom. But I’d heard many a story about a strong woman who raised four children while following her military husband all over the world. A woman who worked hard to make each move seem not like a traumatic event, but rather just another grand adventure. A woman that had she been born in a different time would have probably have had a great career of her own, but instead spent her life supporting her husband’s career. A woman curious about everything. A reader. A writer. A woman that liked to hold court at her retirement home on birthdays and special occasions. A woman that was bound and determined to live to see our first African American president elected. No small feat for someone 90 years old.
I got to meet her today. I immediately could see where my friend Candy gets so much of her personality. Even in her frail state she was engaging and delightful.
I got to see my friend caring for her mother with such tenderness that it was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Straightening the covers and smoothing her hair back tenderly. Kissing her forehead and murmuring soothing words to quiet any agitation her mother was feeling.
Would you say a prayer for Candy, her siblings and her mom? That as this family navigates the next few days and weeks of this new uncharted course that they would feel God’s hand on them in a very special way. That they find strength and love in each other and in the friends that surround them.
Thanks.
Well, that was fun.
Sometimes I’ll admit I fantasize about spending a couple of days in bed with some mild illness. These fantasies usually involve a good book along with my computer on which I would play multiple games of pathwords and frequently check people.com. I would spend the hours propped up on multiple pillows with a drink nearby and my loving family would quietly poke their heads in to check on me and bring me their well wishes.
That’s not exactly how it played out. My fever kept me from being able to concentrate on anything more than a couple of sentences long. Sleep eluded me at every turn. My family was so afraid of catching what I had that they stayed as far away as possible.
Turns out that while I think I’m pretty good at diagnosing illnesses in other people, I should refrain from doing so to myself. What I was sure was the flu was probably just a stomach bug. I feel 85% better now and while I pride myself on a stronger-than-steel immune system, I’m pretty sure even I couldn’t turn things around that quickly.
So I take back all the ugly things I said about the vaccine companies and their no-good products.
And I promise the next time I’m sick to have someone who knows what they’re doing diagnose me.
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