Cardiogirl: 19% body fat 100% fun

Oy vey. I’m never getting a cat; it’s just not in the cards for me. Why, you ask? Because my oldest kid has asthma and is allergic to cats but you probably already knew that.

These days my middle kid is flirting with asthma. It’s definitely not as severe as my oldest kid’s but it’s questionable and that is why we visited my old buddy the allergist. It seems my middle kid occasionally feels like an elephant is sitting on her chest and when that happens puffing on the oldest kid’s inhaler seems to help.

Sounds like an open and shut case, right? Wrong. Her symptoms are not consistent, I cannot find a trigger of any sort and I’m wondering if the inhaler is having a placebo effect on her. The doctor agreed but did not discount her tight chest so we left with a peak flow monitor, a spacer and an inhaler.

That was almost it until he looked up her prescription history on the computer and discovered the pediatrician had prescribed Flonase nasal spray in the spring. “Does she have allergies?” he asked.

“I’m not sure; she sneezes a lot in the spring.”

“Let’s do a scratch test before you leave,” he said.

Have you ever had a scratch test? It’s not really a scratch. It’s more of digging-a-needle-in-the-skin-and-then-scraping-it-back-out test. Four rows of six on her back.

The results came back like this: allergies to all trees, leaves and pollen which is why she sneezes a lot in the spring. The next row on her back showed up as dust mites. And row three was the domestic cat. Damnation.

So in addition to never having a cat again, I now have to worry about dust mites making a shanty town in the bed skirts. I also need to buy a few mattress covers for two mattresses and two box springs since she shares a room with her younger sister who, as of yet, is not allergic to cats or dust mites.

Now that I’m going on a shopping spree maybe I should break the bank and buy some satin pillowcases while I’m at it. Although those things are pretty slippery, aren’t they? I don’t need her sliding out of bed in the middle of the night, banging her head on the floor and spiraling into an asthma attack.

I’ll just keep using cotton pillowcases and wait for those dust mites to trigger an attack.

At least then I won’t have to deal with a concussion.

Parenthood has taught me a lot of weird things. This is my most recent discovery.

It’s really hard trying to teach an 8-year-old to swallow pills.

My kid has had persistent ear infections since December; we’re seeing the ENT next month which will probably result in tubes in her ears. And since she’s had some massive anxiety issues related to hospitals/medical centers since Emily took a spin in the ambulance last month, this is gonna be a real treat.

Anyway, this last round of medication came in the form of a white liquid that tasted terrible. So this time we agreed that we would ask for pills. The doctor said we could crush them up and put them in apple sauce. Yes, please. This is working out better than last time but she still doesn’t enjoy it.

So here’s what I’ve learned.

1. Necessity really is the mother of invention.

Since I don’t have a mortar and pestle I had to put my MacGyver hat on which led to using the end of a metal beater from my kitchen mixer and a ceramic coffee cup.

2. It’s not easy crushing pills.

3. It’s hard to mask the flavor of a crushed pill in applesauce.

4. And I’m amazed that people who’ve been poisoned by their spouses never tasted it in the food they were served. Before Oprah jacked up Discovery Health I saw quite a few shows about people who had crazy ailments that took forever to diagnose. And they always spent some time in the hospital recovering only to have the disabling pain return after spending time at home.

And without fail, there was always a spouse who prepared “special food” for the person with the debilitating pain. And every single time, the spouse would flip out when anyone else in the family tried to eat Mom’s “special Jello.” Hello? Why don’t red flags appear when the cook won’t let anyone else eat the food?

Regardless, I’m surprised that those folks didn’t taste something funky in the food.

I also wonder if the perp had a mortar and pestle in the house.

Today I am driven to performance art in an effort to express my eczema woes. Excuse me while I adjust my black turtle neck and beret. Oh good; I found my bongo drums. Let’s begin.

p.s. That’s a clove cigarette for dramatic effect. I’m not going to inhale.

General Disdain
a haiku by Cardiogirl

I hate eczema
The itching drives me crazy
I wish it would stop

One Good Use For It, Part One
a haiku by Cardiogirl

No death penalty
Just bottle eczema and
slather on perpetrator

One Good Use For It, Part Two
a haiku by Cardiogirl

The verdict: Guilty
Sentence: Eczema for life
Off to the jail cell

One Good Use For It, Part Three
a haiku by Cardiogirl

It goes on all parts
And there’s no prescription cream
Just insane itching