Never Running on Empty

I wanted to write this for a long time. Hell, l wanted to write anything for a long time, besides a grocery or to-do list. As most of you know, the last six months have been pretty nasty regarding Tom and his health setbacks. Were these problems caused by his liver and transplant issues? Not necessarily all of it. What does this have to do with the American Liver Foundation and Marathon Monday? Stick with me, and I’ll explain.

When Tom was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in August it definitely was connected to the diseased that ruined his liver, PSC. PSC – Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis many times presents with some sort of inflammatory bowel disease. Because it has an autoimmune component, right after Tom’s transplant, we were told that Tom could still develop an IBD.

So, that was a bit of a blow. But besides the nuisance of the colonoscopy interfering with a new job and vacation on the Cape, it was not devastating. Colitis CAN be successfully managed.

Tom was an ALF LIVEr Champion in 2010

We are pretty sure that his femur fracture on September 2^nd was not related to liver disease, although it was certainly suspect for a while. But still – it was not fun. At all.

 

What about the sudden migraine in early February that landed him in the hospital? Well I don’t think there was a direct connection – although it seems there was a connection between that terrible head pain, and the severe bout of cyclic vomiting that Tom went through his first year after transplant. Many sufferers of cyclic vomiting also have migraines. In fact, the stomach issues themselves are often referred to as abdominal migraines.

Migraines are often triggered by stress. Hmm, where did that stress come from? Any guesses?

Then there was the other hospitalization this year, smack in the middle of February vacation. Now we’re really making a connection.

That Tuesday morning Tom felt extra tired and chilled. Then he looked feverish. Took the temp – 102.3 – yikes! Called Boston, were told to bring him in right away, since he was on three different immunosuppression meds (one for the transplant, two for the colitis) – the docs didn’t want to mess around with that.

Of course, probably because I gave him some ibuprofen at home, his temperature was completely normal once we landed in the Children’s ED (Emergency Department – to say ER, well it’s just soo yesterday). But his blood work revealed a startlingly low white blood count, specifically his ANC (absolute neutrophil count). Right there that was reason to admit him.

After a few days, there was no clear cause of this low ANC. But what we did learn was very concerning, and this is the crux here, the BIG connection to liver disease. One possible cause was the medications that Tom was already on, especially 6MP, a drug he was taking for his colitis. (It also used as part of a chemo regimen to treat acute lymphoblastic leukemia).

And another possibility was cholangitis. A bile duct infection. Now why would someone with a healthy liver have a bile duct infection?

Because the thing is, Tom does not seem to have a total 100% healthy liver any longer. Because, the thing is, it looks like Tom’s PSC has come back.

You read that right.

PSC has been known to recur in (I think) 5 – 10% of cases.

Although one of his doctors very recently said that she’s not entirely sure that the PSC did recur – still another doc was pretty certain. Hey, not that we want to look for trouble, and if this has recurred, then we’ll just move forward and think positively and the usual. The consensus is that recurrences typically don’t progress as fast.

But since February, this new knowledge has been pretty tough to handle. The depth of worry has been hard to explain, and harder to go through.

Zac's Mom, Heather is running her first marathon with Tom Nealon, who is running his last.

The good thing is, he’s doing pretty well at the moment. He’s got one college acceptance locked so far, another school seems very interested, and he’s going to Prom –

And he started track. You know his goal, don’t you?

He wants to run Boston next year, on the Run for Research Team.

I'm tired of liver disease. I'm angry. There's no one to blame, it's not like that, but still there's anger, there's frustration and there's definitely fear. And we're just one family going through this. There are too many others. 

WE NEED TO CHANGE THIS.

Matt Noyes ran for Tom and Zac Rue in 2011

So next year, there will be a plea directly from Tom. And this June, there’s another Liver Life Walk – but for now…please, please, kindly consider donating to the following fantastic people running for Tom this 25^th Anniversary year, Katie Chisholm, a new match, her first marathon – can’t wait to meet her this weekend! And Courtney Fratto, one of Tom’s transplant nurses, her first outing with the RFR team, she will do great, and Patrick House, his third marathon with the RFR, and his second time running for Tom. Patrick won Season 10 of The Biggest Loser and ran with the RFR team for Tom along with his cast mates Elizabeth Ruiz, Adam Hurtado, and Tracey Yukich.

And we are all so proud to know the following - some are liver patients, or transplant recipients, and are all around good people who want to help. And help they do. And they are all running Boston this year, some for their final year. Please consider donating to:

Jim Sparks 

 Scott Rumrill

Sherri Fields

Nick Giordano

Tom Nealon

Deb Tully

Nhu Vu

Heather Cline

Random Check-in

House is at it again, Mr. Machiavellian.  Taub and Chase are back, it's nice to have some continuity besides Wilson and Foreman. I'm intrigued by Park. She's odd. Patient nearly needed a liver transplant. 

Speaking of transplants, the Young Prince had a visit to Boston today. Went fine, blood work fine, iron will be decreased, and soon, the Valcyte will be gone. Still sorting out the nausea/vomit episodes, and we will discuss another endoscopy in a month. 

So, I've become enamored by Blunt Cards. These are profane little bits of hilarity dressed up in 1950s garb with a topical message.


But topical and hip and "now" and "wow" aren't all they're crackberried up to be. I've become increasingly dismayed by the speed that life demands of us. We are urged to go faster, do more, and we are saturated to the point of suffocation with information and how can a person even think, let alone breathe?

Things that Piss Me Off - or - Haven't People Got a Clue?

As I always say, the world would be better if everyone were like me. Alas, they are not - so every so often I see fit to rant on what is just - plain - wrong.

Well, that can't last very long - the imperious/smug act, I mean. I actually am more humble, or try to be, than I let on. I work on empathy, and I have little tolerance for those who have little tolerance.

Still, things piss me off - such as this:

Couple mornings ago, dude in large pickup pulls up in front of my house, honks the horn and looks at the house expectantly. I was still had not had enough morning Joe to make sense of it for a moment. My first thought was that he was picking up a child from a sleepover, but then I realized that 1) did not recognize the vehicle, 2) there were no kids at my house but my own.

I am now a little pissed. I've never been a big fan of honking outside someone's house, but it's not a deal breaker necessarily. But, it appeared that this dude was a stranger, and that's just wrong. I briskly walked to the front door and stuck my head out. I'm not sure who spoke first, but I think the first thing I said was..."why are you honking outside my house?" And his oh-so-[important/validating] reply was, "I got some extra asphalt, you need some?" He then pointed to the end of the driveway that meets the street. There were the average cracks and dimples and messed up bits that I figured everyone has, everyone who has not newly re-surfaced in the last bunch of years. Nothing too bad. No sink holes, nothing deep enough for a punji stick. (pity, one way to get rid of solicitors)

Still, didn't need his leftovers. And if I did? Is this a way to go about business? It's one thing if you're cruising down a street and you see a neighbor out - you could ask. But to stop outside a stranger's house and just honk your flippin' horn?

Flippin' tacky is what it is.


Next up - I get a phone call the other night. Did not recognize the caller ID.
Me: Hello
Them: (Spoken with very poor elocution, and with higher volume than decorum allows, basically poor manners)   Yeah, this is (a three letter alphabet company name, which I forget, I will just refer to them as ABC), I want to come drop off (or was it pick up? I really forget) the check.
Me: Who?
Them: ABC, the transportation company, I want to do pickup/drop off the check.


- I think, wait, is this the limo company that did the airport transport for the Make-A-Wish trip? No, the name sounds wrong, the ride was already paid for, and besides, they'd be a hell of a lot more professional and pleasant.


Me: I'm sorry, I'm confused, who are you looking for?
Them: Wait - (longish pause) ...
--Click--

Me: Hello? Hello? He hung up...I wonder why he hung up. -( no wait, that's Pink Floyd.) But he did hang up abruptly, and without a gracious goodbye or a "sorry my bad" or nothing.


Still - I was gobsmacked. What just happened? OK obviously it was a wrong number situation. Hey, no biggie, it happens to all of us. But wait, this was different. You don't call, and keep saying the same thing, when the person on the other end obviously does not know who you are or what your business is. You change your tactic, you explain things in a different way, you don't breath through your mouth, you don't get all nearly shouty. You enunciate, dear man.


And then when you realize your faux pas, you don't just hang up on a person, as if you'll get cooties!


You know, I called that number back. I really did. It went to voice mail. But boy, had I got my loud boorish ABC guy on the phone, I would have gone all Emily Post on his ass.


Oh, and then there's the walking medical dictionary with no filter at Starbucks. Let me explain. I got my latte and cookie and sat down to kill some time and start in on a new book, Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud, A Memoir, by Cornel West. I don't know a lot about Dr. West, but he's intrigued me for a while - so it was on sale, yaddah, yaddah.

So, I'm sitting there, and there are two women at the table right next to me, chatting and there was also a small girl who belonged to one of them. Because of the proximity, I could over hear a lot of what they were saying, but I was able to tune it out, and it wasn't anything that was too loud or two weird.


But that changed in a little while. Evidently a woman who was two tables away from my neighbors overheard their convo, and started asking questions of the one of the woman, the one with apparently a multitude of health issues, including a poorly working social filter, or internal editor. 


Deal Lady - you don't go yakking about such things as your procedures and your hysterectomy and your hormones and your this and your that, to a person two tables away, in a mixed company setting, that is NOT a doctors office, or a support group.


A brief blurbie is fine. Oh yes, you tried that med? Me too, it worked/it failed - etc. Done.


But this convo went on, and on, and on, and ohDearGod, just move to sit next to your audience and lower your voices, for Pete's sake!

Who raises these people?


So - these are the things that trouble me. The thing is, sometimes life is so difficult, I need to focus on these other things that in the long run, don't matter one fucking way or another. Well, they do. I wish people had better manners, but still - I think the need to just ramble and vent about dumb things as well as the important things is crucial.


And that's all I'm going to say about that.

The Kindness of Strangers

I'm amazed really, at how much it hurts. Each time that Tom goes through something, and after he's getting better, and the care-giver adrenaline subsides, I'm left with a wound. It hurts, and each time it surprises me at the severity and at the recurrence. 

Oh, and the timing. 

That's the kicker. It's been a little over a year since Tom had his transplant, and I think we all thought that most of these sorts of days and worries would be behind us. Yes, we expected some new worries; the rejection question, and his susceptibility to illness would be the big ones. But this other stuff, the CVS* type of sickness, or whatever it was that plagued Tom from November to March and caused him to lose over 30 days of school this year, no one quite expected that.


Yet, here it is, back again, for a brief stop or an extended run,  or something new is going on.


He's fine now, sort of. The Make-A-Wish trip/getting ill thing was horrible (and the Memorial Day weekend illness was a bit scary), but he made the best of it and at least got in the last day of E3. Fine for the rest of the time, and for the trip home. And he was fine for his last week of school/finals, and fine for his first week of summer vacay, but last night -  he vomited.


It's makes me sound a bit mad - getting all dramatic about a puke session. But when this has happened again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and then wethoughtitwasoverbuthegotdreadfullysickinLA - the drama is already built in.


Last night was hopefully a one-off. It could have been anything. Food at Chunky's didn't sit well? He was overtired from two sleepovers this week? Who knows. And he felt better after that one vomit. Been OK today, just a little tired.


And we've mostly recovered from the LA thing, that wound is healing. 


But I am covered in bruises. Not the cool kind I used to get at the dojo, although I feel like I must have earned some sort of new rank by now.  


These bruises are quite invisible, but just as real. These ones though, I didn't expect. I'm really sucker-punched, each time.


However...


I'm also hugely and amazingly amazed at the "kindness of strangers" Did I say amazing? I'm having a hard time processing it still.


Now I would imagine that an organization that knows they are dealing with a Make-A-Wish recipient is going go out of their way to please the kid. That makes sense. But what happened with Tom - I still don't know how to describe it.


Well, he's been getting stuff. Lots of stuff. I was putting pictures on Facebook, but I'm not going to do that anymore, I don't think. I don't appreciate these gifts any less, but I'm thinking it will look "showy". We pretty much expected these items, because all the gaming folk showed Tom stuff and then promised to ship these items out, but it's almost too much.


Don't misunderstand. This isn't a criticism of the gamers. It's incredibly cool. And we are receiving things in the same spirit, we get why they are doing this. 


But when I consider all this generosity, I'm still at a loss to describe how surreal it all feels at times.

This Reads: "We'd like to thank Tom Williams and his family for supporting our family. Bethesda Softworks" Yes, really.

But for now, I'll leave it with "humbling."


*Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome

Persistence - and Passion - Pays Off

A year ago today, Tom had his liver transplant. We celebrated with just the four of us last night at the Olive Garden, one of Tom's favorite restaurants. I'm sure his docs would have been thrilled to see him eat two bowls of chicken gnocchi soup, most of his steak and potatoes, three bread-sticks, and dessert. We certainly were thrilled.

And how did he celebrate today? Well, the kid had to go to school. They sort of require that.  : )
But Tom was able to realize a big dream, of having a huge assembly/presentation at his school with (I believe) most of his sophomore class, and many seniors, and perhaps some juniors were there too. Lots of kids.

Tom is stubborn. He annoys me greatly much of the time with his persistence about stuff. But I've known for a while that this quality was going to serve him well, as it did today.

For this assembly, Tom had lined up quite a few speakers. He had Mike Slama, a man who received a heart transplant a few years ago, talking about how lucky he has felt every day, and how happy he was that Tom was able to share in that same feeling of gratitude. Also on the agenda was Sam Scott, one of the program managers of the American Liver Foundation, who spoke of liver health, and had some stark images of healthy and sick livers. At the sight of  very diseased, cirrhotic liver - I heard one student exclaim, "oh please change the slide" - yeah, it was pretty gross. 

Also speaking was Nancy Erhard, a woman whose son died several years ago, and Nancy and her family made the difficult, yet easy decision to donate whatever was needed from her son Bo. Nancy speaks at functions often about Bo's story, and she has worked with Jamie Redford (Hollywood legend Robert Redford's son) through the Share the Beat organization.


We also heard from Nick Giordano, a man who has run 11 marathons, and who himself was diagnosed with liver disease. Nick was chairman of the Run for Research Team this year, and at the very end of the day, he graciously and humbly gave Tom his marathon medal.

Even at a younger age, Tom was a fund-raiser. Here he was preparing to ride the Pan-Mass Challenge for Kids

Tom, recovering from his first surgery, age 12

And because of Tom's persistence, he was able to line up Matt Noyes, the meteorologist for NECN. We talk about Matt a lot, because he has been such a tremendous support not only for our family and for Tom, but for the New England chapter of the ALF. Matt is a very, very busy guy and he's also got a beautiful young family to take care of too. But this year, the great staff at the ALF convinced him to run in the Boston Marathon. Matt has been involved with the ALF for several years, as MC for the Liver Life Walk. He's also involved in other charities as well, and his enthusiasm for life is contagious and inspiring.


And of course, there was a nice plug about the upcoming Liver Life Walk by Hung Pham, an ALF staffer.


It takes great persistence to make all this happen. Of course, I took care of a few emails and phone calls, but Tom's passion was the driving force to bring this event alive.


It also took a lot of passion for a shy-ish 16 year old to get up in front of an auditorium of peers and tell his own story, starting from first diagnosis to his surgery a year ago. He spoke of various procedures he endured, holidays that were basically ruined, too much time out of school and other snapshots of how his illness impacted his life.




But he also spoke of his friends, and how much they meant to him, and how he appreciated their support. And Tom spoke about Rachel's Challenge, and how by either joining him at the Liver Walk, signing up to be an organ donor (for those 18 year old students), or just being more aware of others' suffering - can answer her challenge and "Start a Chain Reaction" of making life a little bit better for someone other than themselves.

Look at the Alternative

Funny but true exchange between the mammogram technician and myself:


MT: OK, now put your right sleeve in and take your left sleeve out.


Me: (trying to use humor to deflect the awkwardness of the situation)  Sure, but just don't ask me to "shake it all about."
MT: (laughs)
(pause)
Me: "Only if you have some $1.00 bills to throw at me"

MT: "Well, I guess we could get some people in off the street with their dollar bills."


Yeah, seriously this happened.


Mammograms suck. But look at the alternative. 

While I was getting mushed and tugged at, and at times I gasped from the discomfort, I kept saying to myself, even when it got quite painful. "You can do this. It hurts, but not as bad as cancer"

Forcebook.

I’ve been thinking…

When I put a “status update” on Facebook, I’m all sorts of things. From pithy to profound, from silly to sanctimonious with the occasional lunch updates in between, I think I cover a pretty wide range of posting possibilities. And naturally, because of our family’s issues these last few years, I have overwhelmed the FB community with all sorts of liver disease/Tom’s health/fund-raising bits of anguished or celebratory “sharings.”

For good or for bad, that’s what I do. 

And what my friends post isn’t too different. Coolness all around. 

I just don't like to be forced to do something.

 A pattern has emerged lately that I am finding bothersome. Very well-meaning folks have taken to posting these little slices of emo-bossy “show your support” PSAs – if you will.

“I’m posting this to show my support of fill-in-the-blank-dread-disease/social-injustice. Only 3.24% of my besties will have the guts to re-post this as their status for one hour, please do this for all those that suffer from aforementioned dread-disease/social-injustice”

Now I’m as caring as the next person. But these bits drive me totally nuts. Sure, social networking technologies can be a real boon to those who have great messages to impart. I have NO problem with putting up blurbs for your cause. I have done that numerous times myself, as I think we just determined a few paragraphs earlier.

But please, oh please, don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me how I should show my support for one cause or another. I’d nearly prefer you ask me for money than to just use these campaigns. Seriously, it smacks of coercion, and that’s off putting. 

Yeah, and that goes for the multi-forwarded email tell me how sad it is that no one has the guts to continue a chain letter that mentions God more than once. Sorry, the chain is broken with me, every time. So, if you really want benedictions from the Dali Lama, or the Blessed Virgin Mary, or you really, really want your CD drive to magically pop open on cue, or you want to stop the ghost of some tragedy victim appearing in your bedroom at midnight – don’t put me in your address list.

Hey, some of those emails have some sweet messages, or kick-ass funny jokes! But if you add the bit about “please forward to all the strong women/smart men/caring folk you know” then you must realize the message fails with me. (Oh and how hard REALLY is it to just copy and paste the original message in a fresh email? I don’t need or want to see the trail from whence this message came. I really don’t.)

For the record, and not that it’s any of your business, but I support either financially or emotionally lots of causes. Special Olympics, Lymphoma and Leukemia, Gay rights, Diabetes, Epilepsy, MS, MD, the ALF, Scleroderma, Rachel’s Challenge, the Vets, the Blind, and Sun Santa. Don’t forget the Dracut Food Pantry, my church, PTO volunteer for 12 years, Scout volunteer for – I dunno – six years give or take. And some of my jewelry supports stuff – my breast cancer bracelet, my Organ Sharing pins, and those cute woven bracelets that support a school in – umm…a different country. Hey, I wear them proudly, I just forget why. (Which reminds me, I really should send a check to my local Alzheimer’s association).

Notes to Self - Under Glass

It sounds a bit maudlin, but I can identify with Sylvia Plath somewhat. I never see it descending, but at some point I realized that the bell jar is already covering my existence, creating a distorting view of the outside world. My experience of life is skewed, voices are muted through the thick, bubbled glass of situational depression.

One event that hovers outside the jar is an upcoming vacation. We're just going to the trailer on the Cape, so no airline weirdness or strange climates to consider or worry about. But still, clothes need to be washed, other details need to be attended to, and we have a whole bunch of new items to bring this time, with all of Tom's tube feeding paraphernalia. And there is still, a great deal of paperwork to take care of in the next few weeks. But the whole idea about getting ready to go seems like something not quite within my grasp. Like maybe it's an episode on a TV show that I stumbled onto. Mildly entertaining, but no identification with my real life.

But since I know that our departure is in the short future, I'm trying in my muted, bubbled over way - to make lists of things to do. Lists upon lists, and notes to myself about what to bring and what to do before we go.

Sleep is something I need to do, because health and a cheerful attitude is something I need to bring, not only on vacation, but with me everywhere.

Midnight Rambler

Well after Midnight actually.

I have not had this insomnia thing in a long time. So that's something to be thankful for.

But here it is, caused or accompanied by a dull ache in the gut. That will sort itself out come morning I expect. Morning and a cup of coffee.

But for the rest? What will sort out the worries? Worries about money, worries about Tom, worries about Mike. Even silly worries about moi! The surface health issues seem fine. Yay. But I had one of those horrible daydream musings about --- what if -- what if I was suddenly struck by a deadly staph infection and succumbed. (and we can substitute struck by a renegade truck or renegade meteor)

That would be most inconvenient. Just entirely horribly bad timing. I picture a dead me, sort of floating above myself, not unlike Patrick Swayze in Ghost, floating and full of anguish. It's never a good time really, to die. But if it were to happen right now...well I just couldn't bear it.

I see myself floating above Dave - trying to comfort and guide him to the right medical websites, pushing Tommy's health folder under his nose...screaming.."look here! Here are all the meds, the phone numbers, the notes, the scribbles, the authorizations."

Then I would try to help Tom get through whatever he needs to deal with, but in such a mournful way. Too soon, too soon. If ever there was a time to bargain with death - this would be it.

It's such a needful thing - the desire to do whatever you can do to help your child - and if you were suddenly robbed of that ability - it's beyond frustrating, it's pure torture. Really.

The Perfect Mother's Day

I'd had the perfect Mother's Day planned. Well scratch that, I never have anything really, fully planned. I have wisps of ideas and with luck and work they turn out into something tangible that sometimes doesn't suck.

And so there were some wisps and daydreams about what would constitute the perfect "day off" for me.

Sleep late, but not too late. Wake up and wander downstairs to find freshly made hot coffee and a breakfast pastry of some sort. Like a low fat corn muffin and... and some fresh fruit...yeah, that's the ticket. (Amend dream fragment to include taking thyroid pill an hour before waking up for coffee and muffin) Enjoy muffin and fruit and coffee. (Amend further to include natural morning activities that leave one feeling more...relaxed, and ready to enjoy food)

And important note - all this is done so far in solitude. The family is off in another room, playing video games or doing homework or whatever - just leaving me time to wake up without queries as to my health, or my willingness to do laundry or drive someone somewhere -- NOTHING. Just solitude and maybe some quiet jazz streaming discreetly from the dining room speakers.

And the windows are open, and with no neighbors are awake, the only sounds that the light breeze carries in are bird calls. And during this hour or so of quiet time, I'd read the paper, listen to the news on the radio, and check email. OK maybe just a little Facebook too.

The thing is, I do get these quiet mornings several times a week, time where I don't have to answer to anyone. I don't have to get dressed and go to work and worry about being late. I don't have to take someone to a bus stop or to daycare. Well, I haven't had to get a child off to school in two years, unless you count bringing The Crown Prince to some college classes. And I don't have to worry about getting to work on time - I just have to make sure that I turn the heat on in this room, and that the coffee is made. And I certainly don't have to worry about what I wear to work.

But even though these mornings are not necessarily rare, they still feel precious. And what else would I include this in my perfect, precious fantasy day? Probably a chance to sit outside in the sun, either reading or talking with whomever would want to join me. See, that's what would make this the optimum day - sacred time alone, and then sacred time with the family. And of course the family would be in the most sunshiny of moods, no arguments, no homework questions, and no illness.

Does that mean that the perfect Mother's Day would have no "Mothering" involved? Really, isn't that what the commercial fantasy is? Mom is taken to brunch, to lunch, to the theater - she's shoo'ed away from the kitchen, pointed in the direction of the chaise lounge in the pest-free garden, and she's a goddess for a while.

And that's a great image. And it's not always a fantasy. But to try to make it happen on Mother's Day, is not easy. Not when we planned to have in-laws over in the afternoon - there's the hustle and bustle of bathroom cleaning and straightening up - one can't really call the day their own when one needs to play hostess. And not when there's illness in the family.

Years ago, maybe 10 or 12, one of my boys, I think it was The Crown Prince, had a stomach bug. I have a memory of him running to the bathroom to vomit, and in his urgency, he forgot to lift the toilet top. So, you can imagine the aftermath of cleaning up a projectile mess that was intended to go into a vessel, that instead spewed with force on top of a flat surface and then sprayed out in many directions.

You're absolutely right, it was a disgusting mess. And as I remember, it was the Friday before Mother's Day weekend. I remember saying to myself with bitterness mixed with a little humor - "Happy Mother's Day to me." It wasn't my first bathroom mess and certainly not my last, but the irony of the calendar did not escape me.

And that irony was again present during this weekend.

My Tom, AKA The Young Prince, the boy with the sickness, the boy with the liver disease, the boy who is more fragile than we realized, and the boy who has surprising stores of strength, of spirit, and of love - caught a stomach bug.

He came home from school on Thursday, exhausted and complained of a mild stomach ache. He managed to eat a bit here and there, and although he stayed home on Friday, he seemed to feel a little better by late morning. He took a walk with his brother and when he came home he was wiped out again. By Friday evening he was vomiting and had diarrhea.

It continued during the evening and on Saturday morning I was calling for the GI folks in Boston. I spoke a few times that day with the on-call doc, and we decided that by Saturday afternoon he was on the mend. Fever was gone, vomiting was gone, he was asking for food. It was encouraging. Then Saturday night he was back to vomiting again, and by Sunday morning he was very miserable and asking to go to the hospital.

We took him to a local ER, and they found he was quite dehydrated. After a couple liters of fluids, he wasn't responding as well as they'd hoped, plus they found blood in his urine. They transferred him to Boston, and he was ultimately admitted for more tests and observation. The next couple of days were a jumble of worries - tests for this, tests for that, everyone had to gown-up before coming in his room, it was not horribly scary, but rather a drawn-out event of recovery tempered with many questions.

He's home now, slowly recovering, and the rest of us are trying to recover too. Some Mother's Day weekend, huh?

Yes...some Mother's Day weekend. I did what other moms - and dads - do all the time, take care of someone without thinking of thanks, without noticing the calendar. You just do it because you love that person so much that to do otherwise is not an option.

But yet my Young Prince surprised me. While we were still in the Lowell emergency room, while Tom was still nauseous and nervous - he turned to me and said..."Mom -- Happy Mother's Day -- I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

It really was kind of perfect.

My Boys and My Boys: In the House

I wrote a blurb for tonight's My Boys season three opener here. But now I can talk about what I really thought. I can release how it was gratifying and sweet to see PJ come out of left field and open up to Bobby. And then the kiss! Here's the thing though, I'm no body language expert, but there was too much distance between them. They sounded convincing if you just saw their faces, heard their words, looked into their eyes...it was a nice moment. But panning out, they lost me a little. Over all it was a great episode. Stephanie still regrets her fling with Kenny. The boys and the mustaches were funny, and King Baby Jim Gaffigan's Andy and wife Meredith just had their second baby, little Oliver. So it's off to a good start.

And then there's my boys. They've been going through stuff, draining and all that. I've been seeing way more of the inside of doctor's offices than I'd like. But what are ya gonna do. And on a side note, watching House last night with Tom was pretty interesting, Kutner (I think?) was trying to follow the clues from a paralyzed Mos Def. Figured out that the patient's foot was itchy. And then House says (paraphrasing), "itchy feet is a sign of liver failure". Tom and I stared at each other. Weird that we actually understood what they were talking about 'sclerosing cholangitis' and the like.

Smoke 'em if You Got 'em (But Seriously, You Should Quit)

In the news a while back was a story how Massachusetts might join other states in legislating a ban against smoking in private vehicles – specifically vehicles that have car seat age children riding in them. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Those little lungs need cleaner air, and I’m all for that.

So, why did this information give me a strange creepy feeling?

I’m not a smoker. I did smoke when I was in my late teens and early twenties, luckily I stopped. I don’t like being around smoke, it gives me more than a strange creepy feeling, it makes me sick. And I know children fare much worse when exposed to second hand smoke.

But this idea of government coming that much closer to controlling our actions – is extremely unsettling to me. Strange, I didn’t mind the seatbelt law, it made sense. And obviously cutting down kids’ exposure to nasty smoke makes lots and lots of sense – yet I wonder if we’re that much closer to the fictional world inhabited by the likes of Wesley Snipes, Sandra Bullock, and Sylvester Stallone, (1993’s Demolition Man) where we’ll start getting demerits for cursing.

I’m not a Libertarian, I’m not much of anything – I tend to vote candidate rather than party. But I feel queasy at the idea of closer and closer surveillance into what we think is our personal lives
.
Go ahead and laugh right now, for here comes my naiveté – Why can’t cigarettes themselves be outlawed?

I am serious.

They serve no good purpose, none. Other vices have either some merit, or are less harmful. Alcohol, gambling, pot, even prostitution could be argued to allowable or legalized in certain circumstances. Firearms too, well – they can be used for target practice – right?

But why are smokes still legal? Why does our federal legislature continue to cave to the unholy tobacco lobbyists?

Anyway, questions to ponder, yes?