We Are All Totally Going to Die of the Chicken Pox!
March 29, 2006
Internet Lesson #47934780843: Do not ask the Internet for medical advice or opinions of any kind. Seriously. You may think it's kind of cute or that you'll get some reassurance that you are indeed freaking out about nothing, but no. You will be told that you are going to die.
Internet Lesson #99384672368: Do not talk about vaccines. AT ALL. You will be told that you are stupid, wrong, misinformed and also, totally going to die.
Parenthood Lesson #17: HEAT RASH, DUMBASS.
You know, considering that I STILL get emails from people suggesting diaper rash remedies, you'd think I would learn that me + rashes + the Internet = neverending insanity.
I also had a whole long thing typed up about the chickenpox vaccine thing -- exactly why I plan to pass on it at Noah's 12-month visit, why I want to delay it, why "delay" does not mean "never ever," why I do not need to be told how terrible chickenpox is for older children and adults, because this has pretty much been one of my biggest fears since adolescence besides having to outrun an erupting volcano someday, why I would never let Noah grow up with that same fear, why it's all a balancing act of getting sick vs. vaccination vs. which option provides the best lifelong protection, how I got the first shot of the vaccine at 20 years old and became too sick to receive the second shot yet received absolutely no immunity benefits, and also why I would never ever judge anyone for making a different decision regarding their child's health or tell them that they are going to die.
But then I deleted it. Meh.
Anyway, Noah's rash was good old-fashioned heat rash. It started on the belly and then spread to his back and underarms, and since teething has made him sort of miserable and even a little feverish, I once again convinced myself that it was the pox, the pox we are all totally going to die from, and there you have it. A few cool sponge baths and a couple hours sans clothing cleared it right up, and I am officially a Spaz.
Also: Not talking about it anymore. Really. As of the end of this sentence. Right...here. Period.
Anyway, today I actually want to update y'all on my mom, since so many of you have been so nice to ask about her.
She was originally scheduled to have a lumpectomy on April 24th. APRIL. TWENTY-FOURTH. This was...kind of annoying, because what the hell do you do in the meantime? Oh yes, there's a lump. A lump that was not there six months ago, and now it is, how about that, let's give it another two months before we do a single fucking blessed thing about it!
I taught myself to cross-stitch in the meantime; that's how crazy the whole thing drove me.
My poor mom, in the meantime, developed vertigo AND got a pelvic ultrasound, because piling on is FUN, and hooray, there's something wrong there too.
Like UTERINE CANCER WRONG.
So now, on top of the lumpectomy, she needs a D&C to determine if she does indeed have uterine cancer. It could be nothing. We're hoping for nothing. We like nothing. Let's hear it for the Seinfeldian uterus!
Of course, the good news is that hey, perhaps APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH is not really such a great idea anymore. So both procedures will take place on April 7th.
*crosses arms, stares at calendar, thinks about learning how to knit*