Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Advice to parents and pet owners

You really need one of these. And tonight I'm going to buy one of these (thanks Erin!). Oh, and this stuff works well on non-feline sources as well. Geohde should probably get twice as much of everything for dealing with twins.

Sigh. Another day in the potty training grind.

PS. DD and Erin, I am stewing on a post of my own about resentment issues so as not to completely hijack your comments.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

We interrupt this blog's total silence to bring you...

... an e-mail I just sent out to a few friends and family.

Subject: Toddler available for adoption

Vital stats: 2.5 years old, female, 38" tall, 37 pounds
Recently demonstrated skills: liberally smearing self (and parents' bedroom carpet) with contents of diaper
Toddler available for immediate pickup. Hell, her mother will deliver anywhere in the world.
Also available: one similarly decorated book (her Dad's; sorry, dear) and one similarly decorated tube of lip balm. And empty diaper.

Monday, April 07, 2008

Getting More Complicated

Things here aren't going as smoothly as they were. D made the official move to her "Big Girl Bed" on Saturday so we could free up the crib for Buddy, who is rapidly outgrowing the bassinette. She was over the moon about it and slept great Saturday night and Sunday at naptime. Last night and today at naptime, though, she started out in the bed but then asked to be moved into the crib (I left it set up in the room for the transition). I don't want to rush her, but I'm afraid she's never going to want to leave the crib. Anyone have any tips?

Buddy is thriving. He'll be three months old (when did that happen???) next Monday. He's huge. The 3-6 month size clothes aren't even big on him anymore. I'm thinking we don't have much longer in the infant car seat. I'm not looking forward to the transition into the convertible seat, as that will make him much less portable, and necessitate us staying home a lot more. Sigh. I knew the day would come, but it's creeping up a lot faster than I'd like.

My post-embolism robust good health isn't as robust as we thought. I made the break from my old medical group now that we won't be having any more pregnancies (I had to bid farewell to Dr. Favorite... sob) and found a new office much closer to our house. I scheduled an appointment, mostly to get a new prescription for my thyroid medication, but while I was there I mentioned that I eventually wanted to go back to taking Metformin for the PCOS in the hopes of losing a little more of this extra weight. The doctor gave me a prescription right then to fill whenever I was ready, and ordered some liver enzyme tests to make sure my liver was in good shape for when I start taking it. This was on a Friday.

Monday I got a call from the doctor. "You haven't started taking that Metformin, have you?" Uh-oh. Yeah-- elevated liver enzymes. We spent a couple of weeks going back and forth with Dr. Favorite's office, trying to get copies of any liver enzyme tests done while I was hospitalized after the Buddy Delivery Crisis, which we eventually tracked down. They showed mildly elevated levels (no shock to anyone, really-- you figure if the loss of blood was enough to put me into complete kidney failure, then perhaps the liver took a bit of a hit, too), but my later results were much worse. So, off I went for repeat blood work and a liver and gall bladder ultrasound. This time the blood work was normal but the ultrasound showed a "mildly inflamed" liver. Advice: no drinking, no Metformin, and no Tylenol. Recheck in three months. So that's where we are now.

Now you should know I'm a trifle obsessive-compulsive, especially with regards to infectious disease. This comes from spending 6 years getting my PhD in a lab where I worked with HIV, and one notable day, even received a FedEx shipment labeled "Ebola Virus." (That sure set off some alarm bells in the safety department.) I'm a bit of a germophobe now, and so waking up to discover two units of packed red blood cells hanging on my IV pole in the ICU was a nasty shock, as was discovering just how many units of various blood products had preceded them. I am well aware of the tests done on donated blood before it makes it into the blood bank, but I'm also aware of the fact that laboratories aren't perfect.

Rationally, I know my liver is probably just a little pissed off at being deprived of oxygen for a little while in favor of my brain and heart, but my irrational half keeps voicing thoughts of blood products contaminated with hepatitis viruses or other nasty little hitchhikers. I can't seem to silence them, especially in the night when I'm up feeding Buddy. It's driving me crazy. I've been planning to go in six months post-transfusion for any testing I can wring out of my doctor, just for the peace of mind, but now I'm wondering how I'm going to last that long. Sometimes knowing all the details about the bad stuff that can happen to a body is just not a good thing.

I just reread the above, and it sounds pretty down. Overall, I’m doing pretty well. Having two children is both harder and easier than I thought it would be, but everyone is well and happy, and adjusting much better than I imagined to the new reality. I’ve also made a new friend who I’m enjoying quite a bit, and we’ve started working out together, which makes me feel even better.

Now, if I can just get all my major organs in normal working order so I can kick back and have a glass of wine.