Going out with a bang!

Well, I posted every day for the month of November. Some days I had things to share – like my gym expeditions and dealing with Matty’s surgery – and others, I dug deep – really, really deep – to come up with garbage that probably made you feel dumber for reading it.

I’m glad I did it, but I’m okay if I don’t do it again for a year – or if I don’t do it again at all! For those who humored me and read, thank you. But let’s be honest, blogging every day can become sort of a chore and feeling obligated to read my garbage every day is probably an even bigger chore.

As for going out with a bang, I was being smart ass. I have nothing. I’ll be lucky if I can make it until tomorrow morning without going into the ER. Wish I were being funny, but I’m pretty sure I’m dying. I have a fever of 101.5, swollen glands, my throat is on fire, and it just won’t quit. I get anxious when the back of my neck gets achy and stiff because that’s usually not a good sign for me. We’ll see how it goes tonight. I HAVE to get better! I mean, if I don’t, I won’t be able to get back to the gym and I’ll have NOTHING to blog about.

I did intend do go out with a bang with a really personal post, but as it turns out, I’ll have to finish it later if I live through this (ha ha) and it will likely have a PW. But it was a nice thought, right? I can’t even believe tomorrow is December 1st. It’s hard to believe because it’s in the 70’s here – STILL - and because it means that we’ve been a little family of three for almost one year.

Happy December!

My “recipe”

Okay, so thanks for humoring me and agreeing that I baked/cooked. The “recipe” isn’t exact – you have to sort of taste as you go and stop adding things when it tastes right.

• 12-ish ounces of WHIPPED cream cheese
• 1.5 tablespoons of butter
• 2-ish tabelsopons of powdered sugar
• 6-ish ounces of white chocolate (I bought a white chocolate Ghirardelli bar and it worked fine)
• 1 small bag of dried cherries

Nice and exact, huh? Hey, it’s not my recipe…but it’s really good (and oh so bad for you). You can add more or less of anything.

Chop the cherries finely in a nut chopper or small food processor. Use a cheese grater to grate the white chocolate into small, thin pieces. The white chocolate needs to basically mix in completely. If it doesn’t, you’ll be eating chunks of white chocolate and that might taste funny. Melt the butter and just mix everything together in a bowl. I used a spatula and a spoon and mixed for a few minutes. Then I made a nice, medium sized, pretty pile of the stuff on a plate. Oh, and at the end, grate a little white chocolate on the top.

That’s it! I find it VERY amusing that I just put a recipe on my blog, even thought it’s not really a recipe. This is as far as I go in the kitchen, and it’s also as far as you’d ever want me to go. Actually, that’s not true. I make amazing salads, but that doesn’t really count as cooking, either, does it?

Oh, and Nicki, I totally eat the stuff with a spoon! But I also have really yummy rice crackers, so I use those, too. Actually, as far as crackers, I noticed that most people seemed to prefer rice crackers over the other types I put out. Oh, and I also thought this would taste good on apple slices and celery. However, my giant booty cannot afford to eat any additional cheese dip, so you’ll all have to let me know.

Would you believe it if I told you I slept for ten hours last night, then basically another five today? I have Matty’s cold, and now I feel extra bad that my mom took care of him last week instead of me, because this is EVIL! I feel like crap. Not as bad as my death infection, but really horrible.  He STILL has a nasty, runny nose a week later, which makes me feel terrible. I’ve been putting vaseline on his nose because it’s so raw. When it start to run, he points to it and says, “bugga” so I can wipe it. But when I get tissues, he knows it’s going to hurt, so he runs. Poor little Bug. Hopefully when we’re all over this, we’ll have filled our quota for sickness for the winter. We were going to DC with Ed for a better part of December, but I’ve decided it’s not going to happen. Too much sickness already. Plus, it’s so cold there right now that I’d probably be miserable. Plus, after last year’s unsettled Christmas, I want to really enjoy the season this year.

On a positive note, Ed put up 75% of our outdoor lights! Tomorrow, he’ll finish and we’ll put up the tree and indoor decorations. Ed does a really great job of lighting up the house and I love it. Matty was so thrilled with the outdoor lights. He hung out with Ed all day and got in the way helped. When Ed plugged them in, he kept saying, “IGHTS! IGHTS!” (yeah, he leaves off the “L.”) His excitement is contagious. So is his cold. ha ha ha.

Oh, and the photos? I’m too tired and lazy. They’ll go up tomorrow, which will thankfully finish up an entire month’s worth of posts. Have a great Sunday.

Thanksgiving wrap-up

I hope everyone had a really nice Thanksgiving. Ours was very memorable, but not for any funny reasons. I really have nothing sarcastic to report. A first! It was just a nice, memorable day. It was a little emotional because of my grandfather’s health, which was hard, but it was truly a great afternoon. Mattix was by far the most shy he has ever been, which, if you’re us, is an INCREDIBLE thing. He clung to mommy like glue for a while until he felt comfortable. He eventually relaxed and warmed up, but not 100%. If he would let me out of his sight, it wasn’t for more than ten minutes. We were with family, and he knew most everyone well, but there were a lot of people and he wanted to know where I was. THIS is what we’ve worked so hard for – attachment! I understand that some might consider it insecure attachment, but coming from where we did, this is good. That alone is something for which to be Thankful.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law came (Ed’s twin and his wife) and it was so great to see them. I adore my SIL like nobody else. She is by far the NICEST person I know, and not in that makes-you-wanna-puke way. I had to say that, because often when you think of sickeningly nice people, you have to swallow a little vomit. Or perhaps that’s just me. But anyway, she’s just a kind, genuine, loving person, who also has a great sense of humor. But the nice!  She reminds me of my mom, but I think she’s actually nicer, if that’s even possible. Anyway, It was really great to spend time with them. I also really love my B-I-L.

Anyway, I didn’t go crazy with the food. The thing I’ve found since being diagnosed with Celiac right before Thanksgiving three-ish years ago is that all of the really, really bad (but oh-so-good) food is taken out of the equation for me, so I can’t do that much damage. I drank three glasses of wine, as planned, but didn’t go crazy.

OH! And I cooked! Okay, I didn’t cook, but I baked. Okay, I didn’t bake, but I DID mix five ingredients together to make the most amazing white chocolate cherry cheese spread. I had it at a cocktail party recently and fell in love with it – as if I wouldn’t fall in love with something that is made of cheese AND chocolate –  so I asked for the recipe. I honestly told the woman who made it that if it was five or less ingredients, I wanted to know what was in it. If it was more, I’d just enjoy it and hope to have it again at another cocktail party. And guess what? There are five ingredients! So I made it and it was pretty AND it was good. I totally rule! I felt like a total success and made sure everyone knew *I* made it before they took a bite. I’m sure everyone appreciate that, but hey, this is big for me.

So, anyway, Mattix missed his nap and was a little crank by 5:00. We had my brother give us a ride home early. Matty was sound out in the car within three minutes of putting him in the car seat. I was unloading the car when I turned around and saw my little (big) brother, holding Mattix, still strapped into his car seat.

He never woke up – not while we undressed him, changed his diaper, or put his girly 1st Thanksgiving jammies on him. The good news is that he was that sound asleep. That bad news is that he woke up at freaking 5:00 a.m. this morning, after I slept for less than two hours b/c I had trouble sleeping last night. You’d think that would have made for a great start to Black Friday shopping, but not so much. I get freaked out in large crowds (I know how old that makes me sounds) and fighting for a parking space turns me into a  homicidal lunatic (one day I’ll tell you the story about the a-hole in the Porsche who stole my parking spot after I’d waited for it for 20 minutes right before Xmas and I lost my $hit so badly that he actually was afraid I’d key his car so he moved it – I rule!). So, no shopping. I did order one of Matty’s Xmas gifts online and got a great deal, so that’s a positive. Besides, the economy is in the crapper and from what I’ve read, the deals are only going to get better as Christmas approaches. Of course, we’re taking it in the a$$ along with the rest of the country, but nonetheless, I’m holding out for a few things.

Way more than you asked for, huh?

Bad news is that I’m coming down with Matty’s cold, just as I was getting over the nasty infection. Great, huh? Oh well, ’tis the season for sickness.

Even worse news is that I have some pretty cute photos, including the one of the Bug passed out in his car seat, both of them on top of the kitchen counter, but WP is moving more slowly than I do on the Precor machine at they gym, so it isn’t going to happen tonight. The good news is that I’ll have a post for tomorrow.

Have a great weekend!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

Today is going to be a great day. It’s Matty’s first Thanksgiving with us. For that alone, I am extremely grateful.

And damn it, it may not be his first thanksgiving ever, but it’s his first with us, so he WILL wear the Baby’s 1st Thanksgiving jammies I bought him. Cheesy, much? I don’t care! I’m excited. Pictures to come…

My grandfather – my mom’s dad – is able to leave the care center for four hours, so we will be able to enjoy the day with him. I’m very grateful for that, both for the obvious reasons and for what it means to my mom.  He was just recently able to return to the care center after another week at Mayo; we’re very lucky to have him with us for Thanksgiving.

I am very sorry that my mom is sick because she caught Matty’s cold, but I’m grateful she didn’t catch my death flu, which is still trying to kick my butt.

I’m grateful for my family – my parents, my brother, my grandparents, and my extended family. I love my mom, dad, and brother so much and am so glad they’re such an important part of Ed’s and my life.

I adore my hubby. I’m lucky to be married to him and I’m grateful for nearly eight great years of marriage. This past year hasn’t been easy for the obvious reasons and yet our relationship is stronger than ever. The sleep deprivation alone was enough to do anyone in, but we made it out – alive and still in love! (puke, it’s okay, i would, too)

And of course I’m grateful for my baby. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. He has changed my life in so many ways and I appreciate them all.  I’m grateful for my hilarious, stubborn, feisty, smart, adorable little guy. No words will convey my feelings about him.

This Thanksgiving is already better than the last. I showed you that picture, right? I won’t have to drown my sadness in the Grey Goose this year because Matty is here with us. I may be 22 pounds heavier and 200% dumpier, but I’m 500% happier! He has blessed all of us and I’m so excited that he can spend this day with his family.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Eat lots of good food and drink lots of good wine water. Enjoy your family and friends.

Oh, and P.S., I am NOT grateful that you guys thought I got freaking BOTOX and nobody bothered to ask!!! Seriously. I’ve copped to being shallow, but I’m not THAT shallow. I mean, I’m 28 years old! And I’d totally admit it if I did. I mean, please, that sounds better than having my cystic acne injected with cortisone, doesn’t it?! I’ll address that one later. 

Wanna know why I brushed my teeth with acne cream?

Updated at end

How’s that for a title?

Well, do you? Want to know? {Humor me and let me think that you care. I’m still in an emotionally fragile place and I can’t take the rejection.}

I brushed my teeth with acne cream because of karma.

That Karma. She’s an ugly bi*tch. She totally shoved the shovel up my a$$.

The brushing of the teeth wasn’t a direct result of karma. That was a result of being sick and exhausted and not turning the light on in the bathroom. No, the acne was a direct result of karma. It was about eight weeks ago and I was wallowing. I don’t do a lot of wallowing, but I’ll admit I was wallowing at the time. In self pity. Lots of it. Something to the effect of none of my clothes fit, my hair’s a wreck, I’m fat, I’m dumpy,  I look like the beat down om I swore I’d never become, blah, blah, blah, woe is me, poor me. My mom is good at listening to a little wallowing, so long as it’s infrequent and light.

And then I said it and man, do I regret it. I said, “Well, at least I have nice skin.”

Why did I have to say that? Why? Honestly, I was trying to focus on a positive. I thought, well, I look like hell, but I have clear skin, which is a good thing, because I don’t wear makeup like I used to. Totally shallow, totally unnecessary, and I’ve totally been punished.

Two weeks later, I looked like a teenager. Except as a teenager, I had great skin.

I might be exaggerating, but it wasn’t pretty. My chin was all red and zitty and gross. Remember how I wrote about getting shots in my face last week, when Matty got all upset about it? {Again, humor me. Pretend you remember and care.} Well, I was having cortisone injected into two of my buddies b/c they wouldn’t go away and I was worried they’d eventually scar. And God forbid this gorgeous, million dollar face have any scars. Then what would I do for a living?! Exactly. I’d be screwed.

So, anyway, karma got me for being shallow and I ended up with a pizza chin to match my fat a$$ and bad hair. For a while, I was a triple threat. Thanks to some antibiotics, Rx face wash, and said acne cream, I’m almost back to normal. Although I did get a little overzealous with the cream and despite all warnings to “use sparingly” because it “may cause dryness” I slathered that $hit on thick, twice a day, every day. For about a week, the lower section of my face looked like I’d either been chemically burned with acid or someone had held a smoking hot curling iron on my face for a few minutes. And the skin at the corners of my mouth cracked open and bled, then scabbed over, giving me a very sexy crusty look that made it hard for Ed to be in the same room with me without fully making out with me. But other than that, it’s going well.

So that’s why I brushed my teeth with acne cream.

I’ll of course post tomorrow, but just in case you’re too busy with other things, like, say, family and friends, to read my important blog, Happy Thanksgiving! I plan to write about things I’m grateful for tomorrow, because despite my constant bit%hing lately, I really am grateful for so much and I don’t like that I may have given the impression that I’m not.

Happy Thanksgiving!

UPDATE: Please read Erica’s comment. I’m dying. I almost spit out my diet 7up. I hadn’t even considered that as a possibility, but I now realize it totally sounded like I was gettin’ me some Botox. Just to clarify, if I were spending money on cosmetic procedures, it would be on lipo for my a$$.

Committed

Yep, that’s me. Committed.

I only dragged my sorry butt out of bed tonight to write a post so I don’t blow NaBloPoMo during the last week. I don’t have anything to write about. I slept all day, save for two hours this afternoon, during which time I laid in bed and…wait for it…read blogs. I finally got tired of my mom’s incessant bitching caring and called my doctor. Yes, mom does know best. I have a nasty infection and am now on really strong antibiotics which will hopefully kill it soon. Something about running a consistent 100 degree fever that spikes to 101.5 here and there for four days isn’t’ good. blah, blah, blah….My a$$ is one with the mattress and it ain’t pretty. My bed is going to have a permanent a$$ imprint if I’m stuck here for one more day.  I’m pretty sure I’m starting to notice that funk in my room. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s the sick person funk and it permeates everything. Doesn’t matter how often you shower. It just smells. Not good. I can’t wait to strip the sheets tomorrow and wash them and spray everything with Lysol. Yes, I have issues.

Oh, and I brushed my teeth with prescription zit cream. I was trying to pick out the highlight of my day to blog about and I’m pretty sure that was it. I was a good 15 seconds in when I realized somethin’ wasn’t right.  At least my mouth will remain blemish free.

If this is any testament to my terrible metabolism, I’ve been too sick to eat much of anything for four straight days now and I’ve GAINED a pound. Now you see why I’m so screwed. I eat too much, I gain weight. I eat the right amount, I gain weight. I don’t eat enough, I gain weight. Given the options and outcomes, I feel like eating too much is the most fun.

Let’s see…. Matty has been a little pill for my mom. Good thing she loves feisty. He’s been handing it out left and right. Today he gave her a good kick in the face when she went to change his poopy diaper. (That’s very uncharacteristic – he’s never that physical anymore.) And then, when he was throwing rocks at the dogs and she told him no, he pitched a handful at her and gave her the ‘Uhh!” over and over, all the way to time out. He’s sick with a cold and I’m sure his routine is all messed up. I like to think it’s because he misses me… His poor little nose is a raw mess. I put Vaseline on him today when I was up for my two hours and he screamed and cried. I cried, too. I felt like a terrible person. Ed’s on his way home as I write this so hopefully things will be better tomorrow.

I love my mom!

Cleaning up the “pook” & more gym tales

I’m going stir crazy! I’m not good at being sedentary (that’s how I keep this rockin’ body – with my activity level) or staying home day after day. I’m going nuts. I’m annoyed b/c my fever is still hovering around 100, which means I’m obviously sick, no matter how hard I try to say I’m not. Tomorrow Matty and I are getting back in the game, as long as he’s feeling up to it and this fever is gone. I really think he just has a cold because he has not ran a fever and he has a clear runny nose, but not much else. He ended up sleeping through the night last night and took an almost four-hour nap (another record), so I’m thinking he’ll be feeling well soon. I’ll pop a few DayQuil if I have to, which means I’ll be a machine at the gym. Cold meds seem to have a crystal m*eth-like affect one me. Not that I’d know what crystal m*eth does to my body (I’m being serious for once), but I feel like it has to have an effect similar to cold meds. They make me super hyper and crazy and busy. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin. Sounds like fun.

I went outside with Matty for a bit today. Word has it the amazing weather here is going to turn on me in the next two days, so I might as well enjoy the high 70’s while I can. He has been spending a lot of time outside, so much so that it has become necessary to clean up the dog “treats” every time we go out. As much as picking up dog crap with a shovel grosses me out, turns out it is far more enjoyable than scraping it off of a toddler’s shoes, hosing it off of the patio, and cleaning it off the tile and wood floor with antibacterial spray and paper towels on your hands and knees. At least I think so.

So our new routine when we go outside is to grab the doody shovel and a plastic bag. Mattix has designated himself the POOK spotter because, much to his disappointment, I won’t give him control of the shovel. It is the funniest thing ever. He walks around the yard (which isn’t very big), very carefully, with the most intent look on his face. Then when he spots a pile of the nasty stuff, he bends over at the waist, crooks his head, points, and SCREAMS, “POOK!!!!” (sounds like “poop” but with a “k” instead of a “p” at the end). After I clean it up, he goes back to his pook hunting, repeating, “more pook, more pook, more pook…” until he finds another pile and once again yells, “POOK!” Mind you there’s never any more than one or two pook piles because we’re outside so often. It’s quite a chore convincing him that we have it all. He checks everywhere, even places where the dogs has never pooked, including under his slide and in the rocks. Very thorough little guy.

On Friday, when I worked out with my new trainer (who kicked the CRAP out of me), I was beached across a stability ball, a$$ up in my gym pants, lookin’ fine, trying to fight off all my admirers while still engaging in my workout, when I caught a glimpse of a total douche out of the corner of my eye. Being the kind, accepting person I am, I was all ready to start making fun of the guy and had a kind comment on the tip of my tongue when Clarence (my new trainer) asked, “Is THAT him?” I took another look and sure enough, it was Ballet Bob/Captain Douche. He outdid himself on Friday. He was wearing the tightest white shirt I’ve ever seen. You know those super tight, shiny gym shirts that guys who think they look fabulous like to wear to the gym? I hunted google images and just couldn’t locate the same one. This is as close as I could get:

 

Except that I could see nipples. Nipples, people, nipples! And it was shiny. And it gets worse. He was wearing white SHORTY SHORTS with it. Who wants to see a man in shorty shorts at the gym??? Not me. He had his Chippendales hair tied back in a lovely WHITE Britney Spears bandanna, but that didn’t stop him from shaking his head to and fro after each move. Yeah, he was going up and down the personal training mat doing that ballet move I explained last week.

I lost it. Clarence is hilarious – he’s a really big guy, but not what you might think. Not all giant gym muscle-y, can’t wipe his own a$$.  He’s soft spoken and nice, but he just shook his head and said, “Ohhh man.” Yeah, you’re telling me. I’m the one who had to dance my way down the mat.

Another day…

Okay, one more post that’s not too light. By Tuesday, I’ll be back to my gym adventures, sharing my humiliation with you. 

Ed left this afternoon after putting Matty down for his nap. My mom was here an hour after he woke up, so I have help. I’m very lucky to have my mom. I know that. She’s in a house full of germs and she doesn’t even flinch.

Mattix came down with whatever I have. Poor little guy’s been through so much and now he is sick. My mom is in his room with him right now, doing her best to get him to bed, but it’s not going well. A lot of crying and yelling. From Mattix, not my mom. Okay, and a little crying from me, but it’s quiet crying and I’m definitely not yelling. I’m usually pretty adamant about Ed or me taking care of Matty when he’s sick, but to be honest, I’ve got nothin’ at the moment. I’m worn down and I don’t have the patience that he needs. Plus, when I stand up for too long, I start to get really dizzy. When he is sick and upset like this, he prefers to be walked around his room; he has no interest in being rocked in a chair. He has been so happy to go to bed lately and so easy with the going to bed routine that I know he must feel terrible to be acting up like this. I hate it when my baby’s sick.

Thank you again to everyone for the love and support. I feel better today. Things are good. Life is good. I’m not super happy and I’m not loving this, but I’m in a good mental place. It’s kind of like the time I was in law school. I was really sick and nobody could diagnose me. Then suddenly some early tests came back and the doctor was sure it looked like leukemia. And when all the final tests came back, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t leukemia. And so once lukemia was off the table, I felt like I could handle it. And I didn’t like what it was, but it wasn’t leukemia. Know what I mean? That’s why I say that things could always be worse.

I don’t want anything to be wrong with my Bug, but the two really terrible things have been taken off the table. The remaining ones aren’t great, but they’re not the two terrible things. So we can handle it and be grateful that it’s not worse. I did a lot of research and asked a lot of questions and have gotten some really great help from Laurie. I’m at the point where I know what I need to know about the possibilities and until we actually KNOW what we’re dealing with, I’m okay. (Three “knows” in one sentence. Not bad, huh?)  I’m prepared for the news to be not so good, but I’m hopeful it was all just a random string of bad luck. A fluke.  But either way, it’s going to be okay. Lots of prayers and positive thoughts.

My incredible friend Karen sent me an email that made me cry in the best way possible. It make me teary to talk about it. And then she put me in a wonderful mood on the phone tonight. She and I have always discussed  how it’s going to be hard for us when our children have to start dealing with their racial and ethnic differences because no matter how hard we try, we’re not going to get it. It doesn’t matter if we were the best moms in the world; it’s something we’ll never be able to truly understand on a personal level. When I blogged yesterday about not wanting Mattix to have yet another thing in life to deal with on top of those things, Karen pointed out that while that obviously sucks (my wording; she’s far more eloquent than I), at least I can understand this. I’ll get it. I can be there and I can truly empathize. It won’t make it all better for him, but it will be different. I can advocate. I know how it all works with the doctors and the health insurance and persistence and all the crap that goes with it. Besides condition-specific knowledge, which I’m on my way to acquiring, there’s no learning curve for me. And Ed? He married me! Lucky him! There’s nobody more understanding and compassionate but “normal” about it all. He gets it.

So it’s going to be okay. We’re a lucky family. We made it through months of hell and came out the other side in a wonderful place. Mattix has dealt with so much already and I don’t want him to deal with more, but he is a strong little guy with a will of steel. He is smart and driven and stubborn. This won’t change those good qualities.

And as Christina pointed out, anesthesia often has an amnesiac effect. That had occured to me after it was all over and I was really hoping that is the case. If so, the traumatic events of Friday won’t linger for Matty. Anesthesia usually doesn’t do that to me, but I remember the last colonoscopy and endoscopy I had. Apparently, I was a fighter. Go figure, All 5′7, 120 pounds of me (old measurements, BTW) went all crazy on them on the table, trying to yank out tubes and whatnot, so much so that they gave me enough versed and fentanyl to treat a 300 pound man. (Total overkill and I swear if anyone ever does that again it won’t go well for them after I get over it.)  I didn’t remember a damn thing. Actually, I lost three days, which is how long it took me to sleep off all that stuff. And another two weeks to recover completely. Anyway, no memory whatsoever. Hopefully, the same happened for Matty. He did sleep forever after he came home.

Geez, I could use a little anesthesia and/or versed cocktail at this point. 

Processing

Thank you so much for the comments and emails. I cried a lot today when I read them. I’m a little unstable, but nonetheless, the support is very much appreciated. Mattix is doing wonderful today. He slept for 16 hour straight, which as you well know is a huge sign that something isn’t right. He’s never, ever, EVER slept anywhere close to that long. 10-ish hours is his record and it was a very recent one. He sounds terrible – very rattly and hoarse and congested. (In college, we called this something hilariously inappropriate when any of our girlfriends had that hoarse voice  that I will not impart upon my child, but I’ll admit to cracking myself up when I think about it.) I’m sure he has a mild version of the illness that is going to KILL me soon, but I’m keeping a close eye on him given what he went through. Kids are amazing and resilient. If what happened to him had happened to an adult, he’d be down for the count for close to a week. If it had happened to me, you might hear from me in two weeks.

I sat in the loft until 2:00 a.m. so that I could check on him frequently. Given that he had eaten so much before surgery, nothing afterwards, and had not had much liquid after surgery other than one Popsicle, I was worried.  I also wanted to make sure he didn’t throw up or develop a fever over 100 degrees. It was during my night watch that I realized I was getting very sick.

Ed moved out to the couch at 2:00 a.m. and took over until Mattix woke up at 7:30 this morning, in the best mood ever. they left me in my room until Ed came to check on me around 9:00 and the greeting was enough to melt anyone’s heart.  I swear, besides the fact that the back of his head is swollen (in general, not just the surgical area) and he sounds & looks a little rough, you would never know what he just went through. He and Ed have spent a greater part of today hanging out. Ed took him grocery shopping and also bought him a new remote control car, given that “he had a hard day yesterday.” Very sweet.  They went to the grocery store again later in the day to pick up a few ingredients for the dinner that Ed is making that I would normally eat two servings of, and Matty brought me a gift. I love this kid. Ed let him pick out roses for me and he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, super excited to give them to me. When I finally made it all the way down and Ed said, “Remember what we talked about Matty? Hand them to your mom,” he got so excited he threw his arm in the air and then smashed the bouquet into the ground. It was the cutest thing ever. (The flowers survived.)

Me? I look like death reincarnated. I could tell last night that it was going to be ugly as I sat in the chair, rocking myself, cracking through an entire bag of sunflower seeds and alternating between my 44 0z Diet Coke and glass of Menage A Trois. My coping skills are at their usual peak.

I have some sort of nasty flu-ish bug. It’s not the “real” flu, as I had my flu shot and having had the actual so-sick-you-get-a-trip-to-the-hospital flu not once, but twice, in college, I know this could be even worse, but it’s ugly. You know when you’re so sick that your teeth hurt and your eyeballs ache? Yeah, that kind of sick. Couple that with the fact that my trainer didn’t let me down; I told him I wanted to be punished and he delivered.  Remember when I said I would never be in the same position I was when I first started working out? I think I said that on Monday or Tuesday. Well, technically, it was the truth. We only worked my lower body, so I’m only half like that. I can barely get in and out of bed and I’m about one more trip down the stairs away from doing on my booty like Matty. I feel like someone went all Mortal Kombat on my lower body with a tire iron. If I didn’t know better, I would think that’s exactly what happened. I’d be really pleased about this because I’m slightly deranged when it comes to getting my money’s worth with a trainer, but on top of the virus, I’m not loving it.

Enough complaining? Okay, I agree. It’s a little over the top. I’m really not trying to whine.  Bad timing, I think. I would have gotten sick anyway, but I’m sure the stress of yesterday didn’t really help the severity of this one. It came on really quickly and hit hard, which is what these sorts of viruses do, but I just think that it’s probably a little worse than it would have been. I’m crossing all fingers and toes that Mattix doesn’t catch this. He does NOT need to deal with it on top of what he went through. Ed leaves early tomorrow afternoon and so I’d better be back to functioning in the next 15 hours.

I spent a lot of time in the rocking chair processing what happened. It’s not the emergency surgery or the hell that Mattix went through with the attempted draining. Okay, it sort of is, because that was terrible. But those things will become distant memories for me and small little incidents in his life because he is so young. We are far enough along in the attachment journey that I don’t think it did any major damage to that aspect of our relationship.

Instead, it is the possible long term issue Mattix is facing that is breaking my heart into a million pieces. He’s going to be okay, but it’s not good. Nothing is good when it’s a chronic, long term condition that your child may have. As a parent, you want to take it from them and have it yourself. You want nothing but the best for your children.

As someone who didn’t have a medically normal childhood, this is killing me. I’m having trouble articulating my feelings because I become emotional and cry. It is not about me; it’s about him, but it doesn’t sound that way when I try to explain it. I had a wonderful childhood, incredible parents, a great little brother, amazing friends, and the list goes on. What I did not have was normalcy. I’m okay with that. It turned me into who I am and, at the risk of sounding conceited, I like me.  That and the things I faced later in life, during college and law school, changed the course of life for me in a way that I will always appreciate. Nothing about it has been easy or fun, but I am who I am because of it. (If none of this makes sense, I wrote a PW protected post HERE  that you can read. If you don’t have the PW, email me and I’ll be happy to give it to you.)

Despite the fact that I have a great life, I do NOT want Mattix to go through the things I went through. Yes, it could have been worse. I remember the nurses telling my mom that as we walked down the hall at Children’s Hospital, past the cancer wing, to my room. Of course it could have been worse. I’ve said that every time something $hitty happens to me. It could always be worse.

I keep saying that with regards to Mattix. It *could* be worse. It could have been one of the two things we ruled out yesterday, which are more severe versions of what our doctor believes it is. It could be a million things that are worse. But it’s not helping. I don’t want ANY of that for my son. I don’t want him to grow up like I did. I don’t want the shots, the frequent trips to the doctors, the blood draws, the activity restrictions. None of it. I don’t want it for him. I remember my dad having to literally sit on my nine year old, 45 pound body and restrain me on the couch because I went so crazy for the first month or so home while my poor, heartbroken mom had to stab me with needles. As an adult, I knew that must have ripped their hearts out. Now as a parent, the thought of that is more than I can process. And I was nine. He’s a baby. He’s not even two years old.

Mattix already has a tough road ahead of him. He was adopted out of his birth country by two white parents. It’s not like his life is going to be a total cake walk as far as sorting through things and being like the other kids, you know? Even in the “ideal” situation where he’s comfortable with his adoption (and he’s honest, not trying to make us feel better), it still won’t the same journey as other children have. It will be different and I believe it will be a little (hopefully only a little) more difficult.

I don’t want him to deal with this, too.

And that’s all I’ve got. I love him more than anything in this world and I want it to be okay, so I’m going to do what our surgeon suggested and do exactly what we usually do for the next two weeks. We’re going in to see his pediatrician this week to have some additional tests run, but other than that, it’s life as usual. Until we know for sure, I’m going to try to live like Ed and assume the best. (Damn optimists.) I’m going to be positive and as soon as the death virus passes, I’ll have my sense of humor back. I’ll be right back in the gym next week so my upper body can match my lower body and I’ll have to get around by flopping like a dying fish. My mom can move in and lift me from the bed to the toilet. It’ll be awesome.

Thank you again for the support. Before I became part of the blogging community, I never realized how it felt to have support from and friendships with people you’ve never met in real life.  It really is incredible.

Hope everyone has a great Sunday and a Saturday night far more exciting than mine.

Emergency surgery and a very bad day

What started out as a great day went to hell in a hand basket in less than two hours. Matty did amazingly well at the gym’s childcare this morning. When I picked him up after an hour, I found his bottle on the shelf, three quarters full. They told me he ran around and played much more today as opposed to his usual hanging out by the front entrance and crying to be picked up. Okay, not quite “his usual,” but for the past two days. And my new trainer, Clarence, is awesome. I have a hilarious story about Capt. Ballet, but I have nothing funny in me right now, so I’ll save it for another day.

After we came home, Matty was running in and out, playing and having a great time. I made him breakfast, but he was too busy to sit down and eat today. He would run over to me, yell “BITE!” and then go back to playing. He ate his whole breakfast this way and I actually found it very endearing.

Maybe five minutes passed from his last bite to the moment Ed came down for a coffee refill and said, “Laura. You need to come look at this. Now.” It wasn’t his usual tone, where he shows me something really stupid, like a cloud in the shape of a pe*nis or something. So instead of balking and telling him I was busy, I walked over to look. And I got shaky. The spot on the back of Mattix’s head where the cyst was removed was half the size of a golf ball. It was absolutely huge and not at all okay.

I kept it together and called the surgeon’s office. I asked to speak to a nurse and I was transferred to voice mail. I hung up and called back and explained to the front desk woman that I needed to speak to a nurse, not her voice mail, because I wanted to know if Dr. N could see my son or whether I needed to take him to the emergency room.

I hoped that it had become infected and was filled with pus, but that didn’t make a lot of sense because of the pace at which it had exploded in size. I took Mattix to Dr. N (the surgeon) last week because I thought it was still awfully large. He said that yes, it was a little larger than he would expect, but there was probably a little blood in the area that would take a while to go down. He wasn’t very concerned at all and told us to come back in six months.

After being on hold for a while, the nurse came back and asked me how far we were from the office, which thankfully happens to be on the hospital campus grounds. We don’t live very close to the hospital (nor would I really want to), but it was early afternoon and so there wasn’t much traffic. I told her I could be there in 50-ish minutes. She told me that I should bring Mattix in as soon we could get there and that either Dr. N or one of his colleagues would take a look.

I quickly changed out of my gym clothes and hoped that everyone would enjoy my stench as much as I did, being that there was no time for a shower. Little did I know this wasn’t going to be a 20 minute office visit. I called and cancelled Matty’s and my lunch date on the way down. I had no idea I’d be canceling our evening plans, too.

We walked into Dr. N’s office just as he was walking out to go do a surgery. He took one look at Mattix’s head, stopped in his tracks, and said, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to drain it.” That thought had occurred to me earlier, but I dismissed it. I felt sick and was really regretting having told Ed to just come down and meet us when he finished a call. Dr. N seemed slightly concerned, which is unusual, because he’s usually very unconcerned.

I’m pretty sure everyone there thought I was a typical mom who was overreacting and that the lump had been growing slowly for some time and had gotten a little larger than it was. I’m not. I’m actually pretty rational and calm. The lump had went from the diameter of a penny and one quarter of an inch high to the diameter of a golf ball and over two inches high inside of ten minutes. It wasn’t there and then it was, just like that. I’m amazed that his skin stretched so far without bursting. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. I wasn’t exaggerating when I called.

Anyway, they obviously saw what I saw. We were rushed into a procedure room, probably because Dr. N needed to get downstairs to do a surgery. This was by far the most horrifying experience I’ve had with my son. As soon as he saw them pull the needles out of the cabinet, he panicked.

I don’t know when, but fairly recently, Mattix realized what goes down when the needles come out. I think the awareness probably came when he had his flu shot at the end of October.  He was at the doctor’s office with me last week and the doctor pulled out two needles. Mattix got the most precious serious and concerned look on his face as he stared the doctor down. He thought they were for him. He watched very carefully as my doctor prepared the syringes.  As I got two shots in my face, he was so upset for me. He sat next to me and said, “Owwww, mama” and rubbed my leg. As it was happening, I told him that they didn’t hurt and it was just a pinch, blah, blah, blah, but he wasn’t buying it. He rubbed my leg and kissed me, trying to make it better. It was very sweet and reassuring to me that he had a strong sense of empathy. There was a time when I was concerned.

Anyway, when Dr. N’s nurse pulled out the needles, Mattix got very upset. He knows the office and he knew they were for him. I’m going to cry as I write this because it was terrible. The nurse took him from me and put him face down in a pillow and held him down tightly. I was given the option of leaving the room, but I would never leave him like that. Mind you this lump was huge. Dr. N first shoved a needle full of anesthetic into the lump and then immediately afterwards shoved one of the huge aspiration syringes into his head. My Bug stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity, and then the horrible, gut wrenching screaming started. He cried out for me over and over and then just screamed. As upset as I was, I was more concerned by what was coming out of his head. Bright red liquid blood. No pus, no dried blood, no clots. Nothing. Just tons of blood. Dr. N pulled the needle out and shoved another into a different section of the lump. God, the screaming. It was the worse thing ever. It hurt so badly. He was pinned down and helpless and I could not do anything besides hold his little hand. Unfortunately, the same thing happened with the second puncture. Lots and lots of blood. No sooner than Dr. N would drain part of the lump, it would fill up immediately.

When he pulled the second aspiration needle out, the bleeding was out of control. He yelled for another nurse to come in and help. At some point, we had Mattix up and I was able to hold him. The nurse was right next to me, putting a terrible amount of pressure on the lump that only intensified his pain.

That is when Dr. N asked me the question that made me stomach drop. He asked me if  whether Mattix had been circumcised and (he has not, nor will he be unless it becomes medically necessary), then whether we knew if he had a family history of a certain disease.

Obviously we have no family history for my son, which is of course one of the things that so many adopted children and adults have to deal with. It really hit home how much that, quite frankly, sucks. This is an instance where family history would make all the difference. I’ll write about that another day, but as a parent, it’s hard to have no answers. I cannot imagine what it’s like for the adoptee.

Dr. N instructed his nurse to walk us over to the emergency room immediately and he would send over instructions regarding testing for the disease he mentioned. I held it together pretty well, but I was panicking inside. I really, really regretted telling Ed to meet us. I knew he was on the way, but by then, traffic had worsened and I knew it would be a bit. Mattix screamed bloody murder the entire time. I couldn’t do anything to make the pain or the fear stop. I was so grateful that he wanted me to comfort him, though. He just clung to my body and cried and cried.

I’ve never made it through the check in process in an ER so quickly and trust me, I’ve been through more than a few. As we were rushed back, I was a overwhelmed. We were ushered into a little room, where seven different people suddenly appeared, took his sucker away, and told me to undress him for surgery.

Huh?

I heard someone say Dr. N was waiting and to hurry. He had bumped his scheduled surgery and Mattix needed to get in immediately. I truly didn’t understand. I had no idea he was having surgery. He just clung to me and cried. I was able to undress him and take him into the pre op room. The anesthesiologist came in to go over Mattix’s food and drink intake. Unfortunately, it was a lot. My boy loves his morning breakfast and his kefir. I asked him to please put the IV in after the gas, He started to balk and crazy protective mom stepped in and said that he WOULD have the IV AFTER the gas. He changed his tune and said of course and the nurse assured me that it would happen in that order.

I was able to walk him up to the door to the surgery room, where the nurse took him from me. I wish I could convey the pain I felt in my heart. She literally had to pry him off of me and he just screamed. He didn’t want me to leave him. It felt terrible. It all happened so quickly. I was walked out to the waiting room, where I called my mom and dad, who headed over, and Ed, to find out where he was.

Ed arrived shortly thereafter and we talked about the doctor’s concern. It’s very serious and I’m sick about it. I’m not prepared to write about it yet, but I pray that he’s wrong.

Dr. N came out after the surgery and said Mattix did very well. He was able to take care of the bleeding and it shouldn’t happen again because he tied of the blood vessel as opposed to cauterizing it. He again discussed why this happened. There are two reasons; one of them is unlikely and the other is serious. The unlikely one is that he hit his head VERY hard, directly where he had surgery, thus causing a severe bleed. However, if he had hit his head that hard, he would surely have let me know. Dr. N. said it would have needed to be very, very hard and I would have known. Matty has learned to be quite a wus lately when he gets hurt and loves to show me every little ouchie, real or imagined, for a kiss to make it better.

I even called the gym’s child care manager on the way home to double check whether he had hit his head and they “forgot” to tell me. After she double checked the records and called the other providers who were there in the morning, she assured me he had not hit his head, or if he did, he didn’t cry and nobody saw it. My heart sunk. I wanted so badly for them to tell me that he had indeed hit his head. I told her I wouldn’t be upset or angry that they had “forgotten” to tell me, but I also knew that was unlikely. The entire childcare room is wired with cameras, as I’ve mentioned in the past. They run a tight ship and I’ve heard them recounting “injuries” to other parents. I just don’t think he would have hit his head that hard and nobody would have known or if they did, they would have hid it.

We went back to the recovery room well before Matty woke up. He was just so tiny and helpless under his mask, still sound asleep. I felt exhausted and sad. He was given more anesthesia than during the last surgery and it took a while for him to wake up.  As he started to come around, I just wanted to make it all better. After his eyes were open for about ten minutes, he very weakly said, “up” in his cotton mouthed, hoarse little voice. They untangled him enough so that I could sit in the rocking chair and rock him. He snuggled into my body and wanted nothing but my comfort and love. He was such a sweetheart. He had Ed come over at least five separate times so he could give his dad a kiss. He patted my cheeks a lot and nuzzled me. He is such an amazing, sweet child.

Eventually he came around enough for us to take him home. The doctor called us tonight and the preliminary blood work came back. The news was good. If he does indeed have the disease that I pray with all of my heart that he does not have, it is not the most severe form of it. We have to wait two weeks for the results of the specific testing because the blood must be sent out. I’m so grateful that the first and early test came back negative, but I am sick and overwhelmed over the unknown. I did a little bit of quick research tonight on the two possibilities. Just enough to know what we’re facing but not too much that I freak the fuck out. i have so many feelings and thoughts, but I’m in no position to process them all. For now, I’m doing my best to get rid of the stress migraine that is worsening and to be emotionally present for the little guy. He has been sleeping since we came home at 5:00 and I’m sure he’ll be up at some point in the middle of the night.

If you believe in prayers, please say one for Mattix. My friend Karen called while we were in the recovery room and all I wanted to do was answer the phone and cry my heart out, but I have to keep it together for Matty. (Karen, I’ll call you tomorrow.)  I’m grateful that we knew after only half the day that the worst case scenario is not a possibility and I’m very hopeful that this was a random, freak incident and that our surgeon, who seems pretty certain about the situation, is mistaken. If you read this entire post that is disjointed and rambling, well, you have one hell of an attention span. If not, it’s okay. Please just keep Matty in your thoughts and/or prayers.