Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Riding the Bus
After ALL THAT (see post below), Henry announced yesterday that he doesn't really want to ride the bus after all. "It was fun the first few times, but now it's not fun anymore," he told me.
One in a Million
My son Brother Bear is one in a million. He is friendly and outgoing, unlike his shy parents and sister, and was known in preschool as “everyone’s friend.” I think Brother has only had a handful of temper tantrums in his 5 years. As a newborn, he would wake up and cry with hunger and then immediately fall back asleep when he was satisfied. Now, he would sleep until 9 a.m. each day if I didn’t have to wake him for kindergarten. We know we are lucky parents and we are grateful every day to have this easy going, well-liked, patient child to call our own. He is one of a kind.
It’s a good thing that Brother Bear was blessed with enormous amounts of patience because he has had reason to use it many times in his five years. He has asthma and sometimes needs to do a 20-minute nebulizer treatment as many as five or six times a day. He has had several bouts of pneumonia and has waited in doctor’s waiting rooms and for x-rays more than I ever care to. But Brother Bear’s most trying issue is his food allergies. He is mildly allergic to eggs and tree nuts and has a severe peanut allergy. Every day, every single piece of food he puts in his mouth has to be thoughtfully considered.
After Brother Bear’s allergies were diagnosed, it took us at least a year to learn how to care for him. The pediatrician told us to eliminate Brother’s exposure to anything containing peanuts, including foods manufactured in the same facility or on the same equipment as peanut butter. We were told that if he ate a food containing peanuts, Brother Bear’s body would fight the food like poison: his mouth would swell, he might vomit, and his throat might close, causing him to stop breathing. He was prescribed an EpiPen, a shot of epinephrine that would stop the anaphylaxis, and were told that even if we used it successfully, we would need to rush him to the nearest emergency room. The EpiPen accompanies Brother everywhere he goes and I’ve trained countless friends and relatives how to use it.
It’s a good thing that Brother Bear was blessed with enormous amounts of patience because he has had reason to use it many times in his five years. He has asthma and sometimes needs to do a 20-minute nebulizer treatment as many as five or six times a day. He has had several bouts of pneumonia and has waited in doctor’s waiting rooms and for x-rays more than I ever care to. But Brother Bear’s most trying issue is his food allergies. He is mildly allergic to eggs and tree nuts and has a severe peanut allergy. Every day, every single piece of food he puts in his mouth has to be thoughtfully considered.
After Brother Bear’s allergies were diagnosed, it took us at least a year to learn how to care for him. The pediatrician told us to eliminate Brother’s exposure to anything containing peanuts, including foods manufactured in the same facility or on the same equipment as peanut butter. We were told that if he ate a food containing peanuts, Brother Bear’s body would fight the food like poison: his mouth would swell, he might vomit, and his throat might close, causing him to stop breathing. He was prescribed an EpiPen, a shot of epinephrine that would stop the anaphylaxis, and were told that even if we used it successfully, we would need to rush him to the nearest emergency room. The EpiPen accompanies Brother everywhere he goes and I’ve trained countless friends and relatives how to use it.
Raining Cats and Dogs
“Ma’am, he’s going to have to spend the next few days in intensive care, but we’re pretty sure he’s going to pull through,” the doctor told my friend Sue. Sue collapsed into the doctor’s arms, weeping with gratitude at all they had done to save her darling Hamilton after the accident.
That surgeon was worth every penny of his $3,000 fee. Ham “Hamilton” Hamster had been part of their family for nearly six months and even Sue, who would never have described herself an animal lover, was starting to form an attachment to the little fur ball.
That morning, after an unfortunate near-miss with the vacuum cleaner, Hamilton looked ready to run on that great big hamster wheel in the sky. But, one look at her daughter Lauren’s face and Sue knew they had to try and save him. Making her minivan into a makeshift pet ambulance, they sped to the veterinary hospital in record time, Hamilton carefully resting on a stretcher made from a shoebox and some dishtowels.
When they arrived, Hamilton was rushed into the back and Sue and Lauren were left alone in the waiting room with only a copy of Cat Fancy to entertain them. When the doctor came out and said the surgery would cost $3,000, Sue didn’t hesitate. And it was worth it. Lauren would have been devastated to lose Hamilton. She loved him with all of her seven-year-old heart. There was pure joy in her eyes when, a week later, Lauren had to bring a cage to pick up Hamilton; he was too frisky and curious to stay put in the shoebox during the slow drive home.
That surgeon was worth every penny of his $3,000 fee. Ham “Hamilton” Hamster had been part of their family for nearly six months and even Sue, who would never have described herself an animal lover, was starting to form an attachment to the little fur ball.
That morning, after an unfortunate near-miss with the vacuum cleaner, Hamilton looked ready to run on that great big hamster wheel in the sky. But, one look at her daughter Lauren’s face and Sue knew they had to try and save him. Making her minivan into a makeshift pet ambulance, they sped to the veterinary hospital in record time, Hamilton carefully resting on a stretcher made from a shoebox and some dishtowels.
When they arrived, Hamilton was rushed into the back and Sue and Lauren were left alone in the waiting room with only a copy of Cat Fancy to entertain them. When the doctor came out and said the surgery would cost $3,000, Sue didn’t hesitate. And it was worth it. Lauren would have been devastated to lose Hamilton. She loved him with all of her seven-year-old heart. There was pure joy in her eyes when, a week later, Lauren had to bring a cage to pick up Hamilton; he was too frisky and curious to stay put in the shoebox during the slow drive home.
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