Bumper Sticker Moms and Food Allergy Fun, Part 1

First for some definitions - (these are based on actual people that I know, not just making this crap up)

Bumper Sticker Moms are what I call the Moms who seem to flaunt their children's food allergies.  They mention it to everyone, every chance they get.  They mention how HARD their life is.  They make sure to tell every waitress (their own and everyone who happens to visit their table) that no one should even have (insert problem food here) NEAR their food, because their kid is allergic.  In essence, they make a BIG DEAL out of it.  Hence the name - Bumper Sticker Moms.  Because I'm sure if there was one, they would absolutely have a bumper sticker that reads, "My Kid Has Food Allergies."  Like it's a trendy club these days or something.  I'm also nearly convinced that many of these flaunting Bumper Stickers Moms have children who actually have false positive readings (in fact, I definitely do know this of some of them), and many of them have never experienced any sort of real reaction.  Because real food allergies are scary, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to BRAG about it.

So then there are the Real-Deal Moms, moms (and dads too) who actually HAVE kids with real food allergies, have dealt with reactions, some mild, some downright scary, and these moms are just so down-to-Earth with the whole thing that it's simply refreshing.  If they drop their kid off at my house, or a birthday party, they pull me aside, they mention the allergy briefly, they let me know what's the worst that can happen and what to do about it, and in some, more severe cases, they give me a list of things their child needs to avoid.  Past the age of kindergarten, these real-deal parents will have their child make a list of things to avoid.  This means they are giving their child the responsibility.  These same types of parents are the ones who tell their kids not to lick other kids at school who are eating the problem foods, instead of requesting that the whole school be decontaminated and sanitized.  They make sure their kids stay safe by being informed, and informing people on a need-to-know basis, instead of feeding off all of the attention that THEY get as a parent of a food allergy kid.  And I'm also aware they do not represent the very few, and I mean very few parents of kids with actual, proven, direly severe food allergies who have to be WAY more vigilant and cautious with their severely allergic children.  Boy do I appreciate these Real-Deal Moms.

If you think about it, these two types of parents are probably raising two VERY different types of children... but that's a whole other topic.

So.  Onto our very own Food Allergy Fun.  Fun as in sarcastic-fun.  Because food allergies are absolutely NOT fun.  Not at all.  It's not a club that I want to be in, for sure.  The reason RJ first saw an allergist was due to a day of sudden and terrible diarrhea that happened the day after he had way more peanut butter than he'd ever had in his life.  Meaning that I had found 6 jars of the stuff in the pantry and decided that we were eating PB with every meal until we were down to a normal 1 or 2 jars.  Not his first time with PB, but the diarrhea was sudden and out of place, and so I wanted a rule-out on the allergy thing.  Meaning I didn't really THINK he had an allergy, but I love rule-outs.  And we already knew this doc as she was Riley's asthma doc.

Skip ahead, as a previous post covers the fact that PB was Negative, but Crab was Positive (we tested shellfish too based on Dad's sinus reaction to some seafood - he's way too stubborn to go and get testing done OR to stop eating it).  A blood test (so much fun with an 18-month-old) said crab was negative.

Fine, right?  See?  Rule-out done.  No more allergist.

That was mid-January.

Skip ahead to February 7th.  We'd been trucking along for days on those 6 jars of PB.  Pears and PB, apples and PB, PB chicken for dinner, PB on ice cream, etc.  The boy eats lunch.  Apples, PB and cantaloupe.  He's done.  I wipe him off.  His face is red, only where I wiped him.  I snap a picture, cuz it's strange.

As I take him out of his seat, I notice his wrists and arms are red, too.

See the welts on the wrist of his right arm?

Then I see his neck.  All these places are now BRIGHT red.  I take more pictures and send to my sis-in-law, cuz we had just been talking about the crazy diarrhea, and how I was starting to think he actually had some sort of chronic diarrhea, and at 18 months he should really have more solid poo... brainstorming, really.

Since I'm taking pictures, I take his clothes off to check for more.

His shoulders and back are starting to turn red.  It's a snow day.  We're stuck in.  We're on our 4th day of being without power.  I've nothing else to do (not really, ha!) so I call the allergist.  To complain.  That now we've done a stick test (which didn't bother him) and a blood test (which definitely DID bother him) and although everything said negative, we only tested for SOME things, and look here - now something's affecting him.

Due to the massive amount of snow that was descending on us, I assumed the office would be closed and I would leave my complaint on a voicemail.  I really was not that concerned.  RJ didn't seem to care.

I got a nurse.  I explained what was going on, thinking she'd write a note to have the receptionist call me to make another appt.  So much for that original rule-out theory, right?

Instead, she said it was hives and did it have raised bumps with it?

Why, yes it does.  There's welts on his wrists and neck and face.  And matter-of-fact, I'm watching it spread down his body as we speak.  It's down to his diaper now.

That's an anaphylactic reaction! Is he having trouble breathing?!?

Ummm no.  I don't think so.  He's running around the living room pushing a toy bus.

If it's spreading like that, you need to hang up with me and call 911.

--------  (Processing this...)

Nurse - The hives with welts spreading fast can be nothing, but it can quickly turn into a breathing problem.  You need to call 911 and have him transported by ambulance.

I have other kids to get situated.  Can I just drive him to the hospital?

No.  You can't.  If he's in the backseat and starts having a breathing issue, you won't be able to catch it or react appropriately to help him.  The paramedics will be able to do that.

Okay, let me go then.  I'll do that.

________________

So I called Roger.  Sent the kids to my neighbor.  Rog and I drove him to the hospital.  I sat in back with him to monitor him.  But we just felt really silly calling an ambulance and making such a big fuss.  Since there was the end of a snow and ice storm going on concurrently, we should have just called the ambulance.  Roads were closed, tree limbs were down, it was a mess.  But we got to the hospital.  They didn't have power either.  We sat in the waiting room in the dark.  They confirmed that he had a reaction, termed it severe. Got him back to normal before he officially tore the room apart and sent us out with orders to follow up with our allergist.  We stopped for Benadryl on the way home.  Being a household that rides out colds, opts out of the Flu shot, and generally tries to be med-free, we didn't own any.  Plus, Benadryl makes me think of those crappy parents that give it to their children just so they'll sleep and not bother them.  But I suck it up and buy some.

In reflecting on our day later that night, I am pissed.  Angry, upset, overwhelmed.  In addition to being confused.  Everyone is saying it must be the PB, but he just tested negative two weeks prior.  Even the doctor thinks its weird.  It was one thing to have him react to crab on the stick test and for two weeks kind of, sort of think, okay, sure, we'll stay away from crab.  It was an entirely different feeling to see my kid react like that, to be told to call 911, to not know how bad it was going to get, that he wasn't old enough to communicate any major symptoms to me even if they were there.  In the mix of all my feelings, I got even madder at the Bumper Sticker Moms that thought this was cool and trendy and part of a neat ole club.

The allergist was a waste of time, except that we got a scrip for an Epi-Pen, since we don't know what he reacts to and how bad it can get.  Since he just had a major reaction, he couldn't be tested again for anything else for 3 weeks.  I was pissed again.  I wanted answers.  She blew off the apples and cantaloupe, saying they were pretty rare.  She gave me a scrip for a blood test for peanuts, if I wanted to know sooner.  Another blood draw?  Yeah, sign me right up.  He loved the first one soooo much.

For the next week and a half, he reacted on occasion to whatever IT was.  I took pictures of him, then the labels.

 I did internet research.  I got mad about having to wait.  I got better at feeding him nut-free.  I became an even better label-reader (we already check labels for carbs, sugar mainly).  We (myself and friends and family that I talked to) decided he was just hypersensitive from having that big reaction.  But I kept records anyway.  3 weeks was a long time away, and we were heading on our Texas Road Trip imminently.

I took him to his primary care doc about the diarrhea that was still there, and the fact that now that I was paying attention to his bowels more closely, he didn't digest a lot of foods that he ate.  She gave me some poop-collection bottles to test for gluten-intolerance, bacteria, E. Coli, and other yummy stuff.  Rule-outs.  This makes me a little happy.  But only cuz I love rule-outs.  She says that in addition to keeping him nut-free, feed him gluten-free until we get results.  Even more fun.  Thank goodness for those small aisles at the grocery store, that I formerly thought were only for weirdos and hippies... mostly joking... but seriously, it is WAY easier (albeit expensive) to be nut-free and gluten-free than it ever was before, and I am grateful for that, for sure!


Enough for now... Part 2 coming soon!!

Don't miss my blog under this one, yes, I actually did two in a row after 2 months off!!

Slacker!

Totally slacking on the blog!  

Part of the reason I haven't posted anything (although a zillion posts go thru my head every day...) is because I realized in January that I never posted CHRISTMAS.  I posted the day before, I think... but not Christmas.  Plus my phone (also my camera....duh!) was acting funky and being REAL slow and not letting me get my pics off in three seconds, which is all I have to devote to that anyway.  

So without further distraction, Here's Christmas!!

We started off on XMas Eve at my little sis' house, Grandpop, Grammy, Tia, Uncle Rich, Uncle Matt and Aunt Alli were there.  My sis doesn't have kids.  Everything she owns is breakable.  My brother Matthew is like a giant kid, especially when you pair him with my guys.  I don't think we actually broke anything, but we had a few close calls... 

RJ doesn't quite understand yet, but he's figuring it out. 

It got messy VERY quickly. 

Uncle Matt reads "Twas the Night Before Christmas"

Big Bro leads Little Bro down the stairs

Two new bilibos (seats for spinning and make-believe) and Riley's new doll bed

RJ got the VTech Smart Wheels Train Station.  He still plays with it.  Good call, Santa!

Smiley Boy.  

The big hit was the present from Mom and Dad.  A Custom, Roger-Built Grocery Store, complete with sewn fabric overhang.  Let's just make sure to cover here that Niki doesn't sew, that's all Rog.  Santa must be smart because he brought a new cash register to go with it. 

Okay.  Done.  I blogged Christmas.  Now
I can move on to our Food Allergy Fun of February, what we do when we're bored and haven't had power in a week and other fun things.  Stay tuned!  

My Daily Workout

I am really tired.  Like whooped.  Totally.  Would love to take a nap.  I really felt today's workout.  At the end, I was winded, huffing and puffing for breath, and even the people around me could see that I had really put forth great effort.  

Today's workout was performed in room that was about 5' X 7'.  It had a long table, a small counter with a sink, some space to lean on, a few posters, a stool and two chairs.  

Today's workout was RJ's 1 hour and 20 minute doctor's appt.  

We started off gung-ho.  I carry him out of the car, across the parking lot and put him down so he can push the button to open the door.  RJ wants to stay and push the button some more.  I say, "Come on."  RJ flops to the ground, and when I try to pick him up from under his arms, he sticks them straight in the air so that he slips under me.  Awesome.  I've got a flopper.  Luckily, I am trained in flopping from my previous job! Plus, I am not one to give up.  I pick him up (ragdoll!) and set him down inside.  

There is lots to see!  I personally love this building, it's called "The Atrium" and the lobby is a giant garden.  I coax him into taking my hand and we walk to the glass elevator.  (I cross my fingers that we get the glass one and not the boring one!).  RJ, who refers to crackers as "crack" and cookies as "cook," yells, "Butt!  Butt!"  Ah, yes.   Why didn't I see this coming?  

I let him push the button.  The glass elevator opens immediately.  He runs in, yells "WOW!" at the sight through the glass, then turns around and tries to push every button it has to offer, including the big red one.  Have no fear, Mom is quick.  I block the child and redirect to look out the glass as we start to go up.  I pull a fast one, by saying, "Hey, look at the doggie!"  The doors open, I take his hand.  He flops.  He sticks his head up and yells, "Butt!  Butt!  BUTT!!"  

There are only so many things that can go through your mind as you stand, half-bent over your flopping toddler, leg outstretched to hold the elevator doors open, while your child yells, "BUTT!" at the top of his lungs into a great, open, echo-ey 3-floor office building.  

Determined, I pick him up and carry him to the door to the doctor's office.  We go in.  He takes off running.  For what, I don't know.  He's never been to this office before.  In enough time for me to quickly remove my jacket and hang it up, he's found the electric air filter machine. He's got the speed knob turning in his right hand and the On/Off button going at warp speed with his left hand.  Omg.  "RJ!", "I hiss at him from across the room.  "No touch!"  

His eyebrows go up and he does the head-shaky thing at me.  He moves over 3 inches to the tall circular trash can with the swingy-lid.  He starts swinging the swingy-lid.  It is a very loud, squeaky swingy-lid.  I physically move him over to the window, where we can see the elevator and the gardens below.  3 seconds go by.  Thinking fast, I say, "Look at the doggie!"  Trying to find the non-existent doggie works long enough for me to acknowledge the receptionist, who may or may not have been trying to talk to me since I walked in the door.  The nice lady with the smile hands me a clipboard with paperwork.  

I'll shorten the next part, since we haven't even gotten into the room yet:  I try to write, RJ climbs on top of me, over me, across my lap, etc.  I sit next to the trash can and air machine to ensure that he doesn't touch it.  He yells, "Butt!" several times. The one other woman waiting in the waiting room tries to help by reading a book out loud, but he pays no attention.  She is patient and nice.  I thank her anyway, and scribble what I can.  Briefly I wonder if bringing a stroller in would help, but then I get real.  

So.  Once we get called, he stands on the scale, lets them take his height.  If something's happening to him, he's cool.  Stays quite still, very obedient. He does great.  Then we go in the room.  He dashes to the mandatory spinning wheely-doctor seat.  I look around.  Only more books, no toys.  My purse has no toys left after a few restaurant trips and the like.  The attendant is trying to talk to me and I to her. RJ is now at the cabinets, which have no child-locks.  Open. Shut. Open. Shut... then nothing.  I am standing against them.  He looks up at me with the eyebrow head-shaky look again.  He spends about 3 minutes trying to peel my hands and knees away from the doors, the same way he tries to peel my hands away from shopping carts (who does he think is going to make it go?) and when he's getting a diaper change.  

The attendant smiles and mutters something about "boys."  I know she's just being nice.  No point in explaining that my older son was not like this, nor are any of my kids' friends, my neighbors, my nephews, the boys I've babysat for... We'll just leave it at "boys."

She leaves.  I try to get him to sit up on the long table.  He flings himself forward to look over the edge.  He sees a stool and is visibly delighted.  He tosses his legs around and slides down onto the stool.  He runs to the chairs, which are at the foot of the table.  He climbs up.  I hold my breath, thinking maybe he'll just sit.  

Nope.

He climbs on, stands up, climbs onto the long table.  Crawls across, tosses legs around, slides down.  He has no regard for the fact that the stool only sits under approximately 1/6 of the table.  He's now hanging off the table.  I show him where the stool is, then help him scoot over to get down safely.  I sit him on the table.  I grab a small board book and put it in front of him.  We open to page 1, I start to read, and he flings himself forward.  Down onto the stool, over to the chair, up on the table, down onto stool.  Chair, table, stool.  Chair, table, stool.  Chair, table, stool.  Repeat 15 times.  

Knock on the door, in comes doctor.  He glances, waves, continues.  Chair, table, stool.  It would be fine if I could just sit and watch this.  But there is a giant gap between chair and table, and landing on the stool is variable.  In his haste, he's already fallen through the gap twice, banging his lip and nose, and missed the stool about 10 times.  So I'm walking back and forth from stool to chair to act as a spotter.  Gap and missing stool, fine.  Falling from table would be a bad day.  (For the record, by the time I got out of this appt I had .75 miles on my pedometer on my phone which sits in my back pocket...)

Doctor and mommy chat, she gets ready for exam.  I talk to RJ, pick him up.  Hold him on my lap on the table.  He allows her to listen to his heart, check ears, nose, throat.  Sits very still.  Giggles at stethoscope even.  She makes a passive comment about (all) the marks on his face.  "Yep," I say.  That bruise is from Tuesday, the scratches are from last night at the store, the fresh bump is from smashing into the shoe bench on the way out the door to come here, and the rest are from doing THAT."  And I pointed to where we were back to Chair, Table, Stool.  "Today?" she asks.  "My goodness," she says.  She heads out.

We wait for the attendant.  She knocks, then comes in.  We do a test.  We have to wait 15 minutes.  I look at her with what probably looks like doubt, because I think I have to keep him still.  She says, "no, he can move around, I'll bring him some trucks, do you think that would help?"  Thank.  Friggin'. Goodness.  Singing his favorite 4 songs will only get me so far!

She leaves.  She knocks, comes in with a basket of trucks and a Mega-Bloks farm.  He plays.  I am on the floor with him making sure he stays engaged.  Just as the 15 minutes is up, he is done with those toys.  Mega-Bloks start flying across the room.  "No throwing, RJ."  Eyebrow shaky-head thing at me again.  As I reach to put a block in the basket, he grabs one and chucks it over my head.  I take both of his hands and reprimand him again.  I sort of hold him against me while I clean up the blocks quick and get him on the table.  I get 2 books.  As I reach back for a third that looks interesting, the books come flying over me and land in the sink.  I look at him.  His eyebrows are up, his eyes are wide.  The head is shaking.  He flings forward, drops down to the stool and runs to the door.  His keen observation skills have shown him that everyone knocks before opening the door... so... you guessed it.  He knocks.  Loudly.  Frantically.  "Oooo-Puh!" he yells.  I get him back and settled on my lap just as the doctor knocks (haha) then enters.  

I don't think I was actually sweating, but I did probably let go one of those large sighs, as if I had just gotten off the treadmill or something, because the doctor said it aloud, "He's quite a workout, isn't he?"   I fake smile at her.  

So then we were done.  He managed to push the air filter buttons twice before I caught up to him in the waiting room.  I told him, "No touch."  He said, "Butt."  It was a soft Butt.  I got down to his level and said, "RJ, we're leaving now.  Let's go get our jackets."  He pulls away from me and yells, "Butt!  I want BUTT!"  The waiting room is busier than it was when we first arrived.  The big fella sitting across room breaks into laughter, and I hear soft chuckling from the woman behind me and the receptionist.  I close my eyes for just a second, to revel in just how awesome this is.  I firmly say the only thing that can be said - "No butt."  

We got the glass elevator going down.  I scooped him up before he could protest when the doors opened.  We walked direct to the car, my legs protesting every step, my body feeling like I had just had a massive workout.  I put my little crazy boy in his seat and asked him why he was so crazy.  He smiled at me, and stuck his finger up my nose.  

And oh, by the way, RJ can eat all the peanut butter he desires... but he can't have CRAB.  :(