So I Had A Vaccine Reaction

When Lovebug was very small, Hot Guy had to bring him in for a vaccine while I was at work. When I got home, I was regaled with the story of how traumatic it had been for him, for Lovebug and for Ironflower. Apparently Ironflower was really mad at the doctor for hurting her brother. And Lovebug was mad. And there was much screaming. It's possible that toddler Ironflower hit the doctor.

And my first question was, "Did he get all the vaccines he needed, though?"

That's how pro-vaccine I am.

So when my GI doctor said he wanted to put me on Humira and that I would need to get a flu vaccine and Hepatitis A & B vaccines, I was all over it. I'd already had my flu shot for the year (I've gotten a flu shot every year since 1994, when a bunch of med students were giving them to seniors at the community center where I was teaching preschool and had leftovers for staff members. Those of us that got it avoided a horrible flu that went around the center.) but I figured I'd get the HepA&B vaccine the next time I was at the primary care office.

There are actually 3 shots until you are fully vaccinated against Hep A & B, fyi. The first 2 are a month apart, the next one is 5 months later.

I've recently learned that my insurance won't pay for Humira at this time (and, at $5000 a month, I kinda don't blame them for wanting me to try some other meds first), but since I had already started the Hep vaccines last month, I got my second dose Friday because otherwise I'd have to start all over again when I finally get the Humira.

And I realized that last month's reaction was real, because I had the exact same reaction this time - nauseous, dizzy, exhausted and just generally terrible. Last month I thought it might be stress or that I might be coming down with a virus, because I haven't ever had a vaccine reaction. But this time, at the suggestion of my wise husband, I took an hour long nap after I had the reaction.

And then I was fine.

I would like to say that after having this reaction, or that time Zoe almost fainted after her first HPV vaccination, made me more sympathetic to people who are against vaccines.

But it didn't.

Don't get me wrong, I get where they're coming from. Doctors can be assholes, the medical establishment can sometimes be wrong, it sucks to listen to your baby scream his head off because you're letting someone stick it with a needle full of chemicals you can't pronounce. 

But the science doesn't care how much it sucks to know your consent to a vaccine made your kid faint; the science wants to eliminate cervical cancer. 

I had an anti-vaxxer tell me that cervical cancer is easily curable. First of all, tell that to the 4000 women who died from it  in 2016. Second of all, I'd rather my kid faint than have to go through cancer treatment someday. Curing any kind of cancer is not fun like curing scurvy. 

People die from the flu. They die from measles. They die from cervical cancer. 

They don't die from vaccines. Really, they don't. No matter what you read on Facebook. No matter that you heard your neighbor's cousin's daughter died from the HPV vaccine.  No matter that there is a reporting system and a compensation system (which literally pays out 1 time per million doses of vaccine given. You can read all about how these safety guidelines are regularly exploited by anti-vax proponents here). And don't get me started on VAERS - the Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System - which should be a good thing, but since anyone can report to it, also includes vaccine 'deaths' that are from car accidents within a month of a person getting the vaccine.

In summation, get vaccinated. Get your kids vaccinated. But maybe leave some time for a nap after.

Better, Relatively Speaking

So, I got this cold last week. No big deal, right? It's just a cold. I make sure to bring tissues with me everywhere. I even skip the gym on Thursday, to let my body rest. Not that I actually rest, but still.  And then. . .Saturday I wake up with sinus pain and an ear ache and a fever.

As if the virus was sending me a message. . ."Bitch, you may be able to ignore a cold, but you can't ignore this!"  I also think I heard an evil, cackling laugh whenever I tried to get off the couch, but they have been from all the decongestants I was taking. I guess what I'm really trying to say is that this virus is evil and I'm pretty sure it tried to kill me.

It's now Wednesday night - I'm finally starting to feel better, if by better you mean not on the verge of tears from pain and exhaustion.

This is how excited I am about being coherent enough to post. 

Really, I shouldn't be surprised. There I was, being all good about exercising and posting and keeping up with laundry and BAM. Though I have caught up on every reality TV show I'm vaguely interested in, plus watched every episode of American Ninja Warrior.  

American Ninja Warrior is my new favorite sport. Although I'd probably have more luck playing football than being a Ninja Warrior. 

I may not truly be coherent enough to post. 

Throwback Thursday: She Is Definitely Tougher Than I Am

From November 5th, 2007.

I Think She's Tougher Than I Am

Not quite 3 year old Ironflower, approximately two weeks before I originally posted this.

My daughter is tough. From seeming to improve (from her bad cold) on Saturday, things grew horrible on Sunday. After a disastrous attempt to have dinner at my parents' house (like we do most Sundays), Mom (who is such a wonderful grammy and whom we appreciate so much) and I took Ironflower to the ER (Hot Guy was working). The Motrin (which is SO MUCH BETTER than Tylenol, BTW) wore off early and her fever shot up. Then she complained about an earache. She hadn't complained of any pain the whole time and I almost felt relieved. Surely an ear infection explained the fever?

But despite thinking that I at least had an explanation, Ironflower was worrying me (and her grammy). So we went to the ER while my Dad watched Lovebug (which I needlessly worried about, they had a great time and I am very grateful).

Ironflower just clung to me, not wanting to talk or hear stories or sing. The wait was not as long as I'd feared, though it still left me enough time to mentally insult all the people waiting ahead of us. None of them looked that sick, let me tell you.

Anyway, the condescending nurse (apparently I made a lot of wrong decisions concerning Ironflower's care, like dressing her too warmly even though she complained of cold and not giving her a dose of Motrin when the last one wore off, even though she was only supposed to take it every 8 hours and it had only been 7 hours, but it's not like I care what that nurse thinks) finally led us to her triage room. Ironflower, despite feeling like hell, cooperated and barely whimpered during the poking and prodding.

We were sent to treatment room. Ironflower was given what must have been a double dose of Motrin and a dose of antibiotics, which she responded to fairly quickly. But still, it's hard to get poked and prodded even when you're feeling 100% and Ironflower handled the doctor wonderfully. It's not that I would have been upset if she'd cried or protested or fought, it was what I expected. Hell, I cried when I got a spinal before Lovebug's c-section (okay, the doctor also had some issues inserting it, but that's another post). But Ironflower stuck her chin out and showed her will of Iron. She understood that everything was necessary so that she could feel better and so she handled it.

Color me impressed.

You're A Sly One, Florida

Just when I think I'm over the idea of moving to Florida, Hugmonkey gets his winter illness. I was hoping that this year, being four and all, he would have outgrown it. Put the poor kid has had no such luck.

The year the poor kid was born, all the kids had walking pneumonia in the winter. Hugmonkey was only two months old, the poor baby. Until last year, every time he had a cold he had to go through nebulizer treatments because it would invariably head straight for his lungs. This year, he's had a few colds that didn't require breathing treatments. I was so relieved.

But now, I hear the mucky cough. He's got a fever that's not in the danger zone but is making him fatigued. Ironflower has a touch of it, but definitely not anything like his.

This happens every fucking January. Except when we've gone to Florida, where he seems to get better instantaneously. According to my mother, I was the same way as I child. Whenever we went somewhere warm in the winter, I would get over whatever cough I was having and my allergies would get better.

Florida also has this. 

I'm sure we'd still get viruses in Florida. But I feel like Hugmonkey wouldn't suffer so much. Plus, you know, no scraping ice off the car every morning. And no quality pizza. I'd probably lose five pounds without even trying. 

Oh Florida fantasy, I just can't quit you. 

Not A Completely Whiny Post

When I was a teacher, I used to have something called "sick days". Perhaps you've heard of them? I would make lots of extra worksheets, write out what I did all day and then spend a few days on the couch, secure in the knowledge that a substitute was filling in for me. When I came back, I would glance through the worksheets and the substitute's usual indecipherable note (no offense to substitute teachers in general, but most of the ones we got in KCK would not have qualified to sub in any other state, nor in most other districts) and then toss them all into the trash. And that would be the end of it - then everything would be back to normal.

It was kind of a shock for me that when I had my first illness as a stay-at-home mom, no one came in and took over.

So this week when, 2 days after finishing my round of antibiotics for the evil strep/sinus infection combo, I developed another fever and sore throat, I cried. Then I headed back to the doctor for superstrong antibiotics (with nasty side effects, but that's another post) and arranged for rides for the kids during the 2 days I would still be contagious. Then I managed to bathe, feed and clothe my children - without letting them kill each other - for several days while being massively ill.

And that's fine, I get that moms don't get substitutes.

What's not fine is that I can't just chuck everything into the garbage can right now. The laundry has piled up into epic proportions, not to mention the general mess of my house. I haven't written anything in days, I haven't bought the tights Ironflower needs for her recital next week, I haven't, I haven't, I haven't. I can't believe how far behind I am with everything. Oh, and my children now think they can get away with murder.

Seriously, something about seeing me on the couch watching The Real Housewives while retching into a garbage can has made my children think that they don't have to listen to me anymore. Or possibly it was a week of  killer parenting comments like, "I don't care what you do, just be quiet and don't hurt each other," that caused them to think I wasn't paying attention. In any case,  I have some serious re-parenting to do.

I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Maybe there should be substitutes for moms. I wonder if that would work as a corporate model. . ."Momitutes: for when mom needs a substitute". What do you think?