The last time Blythe received vaccinations, she was 5 months old.
Her body reacted so severely, so horribly – she has never been the same. Her pediatric allergist has confirmed that her food allergies were triggered by those vaccinations, and she continues to avoid all immunizations based on his recommendation.
However.
We are discussing a plan to immunize Blythe against H1N1.
There are risks associated with administering the vaccination, yes, including the (remote) possibility of developing Guillain-Barre Syndrome. But based on her medical history, between her asthma and compromised immune system, she is at severe risk of developing what the medical community likes to call “complications” if she were to contract H1N1.
And so we try to decide between:
a factor we can control, which would be to administer the vaccination for H1N1 in her pediatric allergist’s office, with a plan in place, of course, should she have a reaction. I would plan to stay home with her for five days following the immunization, to give her system time to recoup;
~or~
a factor we cannot control, which would be to take our chances and hope she doesn’t contract H1N1 – or, if she were to be exposed, hope beyond all hope that she wouldn’t have any complications.
Go ahead and read between the lines with that word: complications.
I have. My heart skips a beat every time I hear about another child developing complications from H1N1, most of whom have pre-existing conditions. Exactly like Blythe. Many of those parents have lost their children to complications. That sentence, alone, terrifies me beyond comprehension.
It’s a difficult decision to make, one I wish I didn’t have to make, but such is life.
Sometimes, choosing the lesser of two evils just has to be good enough to get us through the night.
Category: Health and Nutrition
Categories
Slippery Slope
I’m eating ice cream again. For the third time today.
I spent 10 hellacious days giving up sugar, but like a newly sober alcoholic, I thought I’d be strong enough to have an occasional treat without falling into the abyss.
But oh, delicious sugar. How it coaxed me with its chocolaty goodness on my weakest days.
And so I fell. Hard.
I’ve enjoyed it, I can’t lie. But I’m sick. I can’t stop.
The sugar, it calls to me from the shelves of the store.
Somehow, it’s taken control of my fingers and forced me to endlessly shove ever-sweeter treats into my salivating mouth.
My face is puffy. My stomach is bloated and crampy. I’ve gained 5 pounds in 7 days.
But still, I can’t resist.
Like a lion on a gazelle, I pounce at every opportunity.
Dammit. Here I go again, giving it up. Getting Sugar Sober.
Prepare yourselves for what’s to come. It won’t be pretty.
She was in my life for what felt like forever, but was, in the grand scheme of things, a brief moment.
Four years we spent doing things best friends do. I loved her. In truth, I love her still.
It’s impossible to know if the person she showed me was who she thought I wanted to see, or if it was some semblance of the real her.
I like to think I knew her. That I didn’t come to love a person she only pretended to be.
I trusted her with my feelings, my deepest thoughts, my children’s lives. Apart from my husband and the midwife, she was the only other person in the room when my youngest child was born.
We shared. We laughed. We loved.
And then she was gone, in the blink of an eye.
She was an addict, her boyfriend said. Vicodin. He’d only just discovered it himself.
And she was gone.
He told me things then, things that hurt my heart and my head and my soul.
About the person I thought she was, how she really felt about me, about my kids.
I dream about her. I dream she comes back, and explains that he was just lashing out in anger. Maybe he was trying to make it easier for me to let her go. Maybe he was vindictively trying to burn her bridges for her. Maybe he was simply telling the truth.
I’ll never know.
But still, I love her. The person I knew, and the parts she hid from me. I only wish she’d trusted me enough to let me see.
Maybe she could have left knowing I love her, anyway. That I love her enough to help her through it.
I wish I could tell her that.
Categories
Funny, I Don’t FEEL Cleaner
Hi, my name is Andrea and I am an addict.
A sugar addict. I loves me some sugar.
In the past few months, I’ve been consuming more sugar than could possibly be healthy. So, 8 days ago I started a 10-day sugar cleanse/fat-burning diet.
I gave up sugar, carbs other than a piece of fruit every 3 days, and alcohol. And since the Starbucks Vanilla Frappuccino is the only coffee I like, I gave up coffee, too. Go ahead, call me crazy.
The first few days were painful, I won’t lie. The withdrawals were heinous. I was cranky, tired, and irritable.
And cranky. And tired. And irritable some more.
I ate more vegetables in a 7 day period than I had in the 6 prior months. And, people? I eat a lot of vegetables. I also ate over two pounds of heavenly sugar-free, lower-sodium bacon. Mmm, bacon.
I made it through a birthday party and an all-day anniversary party. Cake smells delicious, do you know that? And its scent can waft all the way across a yard and into the waiting nostrils of a person on day 6 of a 10-day sugar cleanse/fat-burning diet.
And when faced with all the deliciousness that is home-made potato salad, macaroni salad, and freshly baked rolls as far as the eye can see, a determined person can eat a plain garden salad with some cut up tri-tip sprinkled on top.
As long as that person has brought along a gallon of their own special iced tea, sweetened with Truvia, which, in case you didn’t know, is God’s gift to a person on a 10-day sugar cleanse/fat-burning diet who can’t have artificial sweeteners because they make her grow cysts in her mouth. And possibly other places, but let’s not try it out to see where they’d grow next.
On day 7, (that’s 168 hours without sugar, in case you were counting) along came Father’s Day. We had my parents over for dinner and they brought over a loaf of garlic bread. I poured them some wine. I may have whimpered. And then my husband asked me to stop the damn diet and have some real food.
So I did. I had half a loaf of garlic bread and 4 glasses of wine. Today, I drank a pepsi. But other than that? I haven’t splurged. Haven’t craved sugar, sugar, sugar all the live long day like I did before.
I may have only made it through 7 days, but I’m pretty sure I licked my sugar habit.
It tastes like… bacon.
Yesterday Blythe and I had our first treatments with a homeopathic remedy called the BAX3000 by BioAllergenix, in an attempt to cure her of her food allergies.
Our appointment went well, although Blythe did cry. Afterward, she rewarded (read: punished) the doctor for putting her through sitting still for two whole minutes by terrorizing the decorations in his office. And yes, that included the goldfish.
This particular treatment was for egg, a known allergen for Blythe. The doctor recommended that we feed Blythe an egg for lunch today, and although I was freaking terrified, I did.
I kept the EpiPen handy because, hello! Terrified! But excited as well.
So, without further ado, I give you: Blythe’s first egg!
Me: Blythe! Mama made you an egg!
Blythe: Oooh! Baby chicks!
Me: No, no, not baby chicks. An egg to eat.
*
Blythe: (sniiiffffff) Egg?
Me: Want a bite?
Blythe: Baby chicks?
*
Me: Not chicks, eggs! It’s good! Yummy eggs!
*
Me: Come on, open up! Don’t you know you’ve been deprived?
Blythe: I do it! 
*
Blythe: Here, Mama eat it.
*
Me: Ok, I’ll have a bite. Mmm! Yummy eggs! Now Blythe eat it!
*
Blythe: Mmmmmm!
Me: Now, any tingling? Swelling? How’s your tongue? Let me examine you for a rash. Let me listen to your breathing. Sit here on the couch so I can stare at you. Want to watch a movie?
Blythe: Movie!
*
Verdict: It’s been several hours, and she has not had a reaction as far as I can tell. I’ll keep watching her for symptoms, but WOW!
I mean, WOW! My kid just ate EGGS!
*She’s nekkid because I wanted to be able to spot a rash immediately, not because we’re refusing to run the air conditioner in an attempt to save money. Mostly.