I Was Right!

Which is no big surprise, because it happens like pretty much always.

But still.

This time it actually means something.

See…

Do you know what this means?

It means that my baby is allergic to peanuts (WHY!? crying hysterically, beating fist on desk, WHHHHYYY?!).

And, as I sat in Dr. Allergies’ office yesterday waiting for the bell to ring while #3 performed contortion trying to claw at his skin (which is not supposed to hurt, btw, but kind does when you are only 1. At least that’s what it looked like and sounded like to me as #3 yelled, “Mommy, it hurt. It hurt!  Wub my back!  Pease, Mommy.  Wub it! For fifteen minutes straight.)  I was torn about how I wanted the test to come out.

Naturally, I hoped that after 13 months (this all started back here, when he had his 17 days of diarrhea episode) of investigative work that would make professional CSIers proud, 10 months of begging for allergy tests (took me at least 3 to come to the conclusion that it was probably an allergy and not one of the other 55 things Dr. Goggle suggested it could be), and 2 breakouts of full blown, body covering hives, I would be wrong, and that he wasn’t going to be the Peanut Allergy Kid for the rest of his life.

Because, no one wants to be that kid. 

The one for whom they instituted the No Birthday Parties at school rule (can’t take cupcakes or anything anymore).

The one who doesn’t get to eat any of his Halloween Candy or the Christmas cookies or pretty much anything until it’s been thoroughly inspected.

The one whose Mommy has to go into the class and “talk” to the teacher, or into his buddy’s house and “talk” to his Mommy so that there aren’t any <strike>potentially fatal</strike>mix-ups.

The one with the big needle (even if it does just look like a super cool ink pen) in his backpack.

I didn’t want any of that for him.

But, if I’m honest (and I always am, except for when it comes to talking about what I ate for snack today, and then I’m strictly a don’t ask, don’t tell kinda chick) there was a small part of me that just wanted the test to be positive.

Because I really just wanted to be right.  But not for the reasons I normally want to be right.

For other reasons.

Like, that I am tired of keeping food journals about every little morsel he makes contact with.  Adding, subtracting, substituting, finding the square root of pretty much everything he eats was getting tiresome.

And, I was anxious to find a solution.  I could see that something was obviously wrong.  Last week nearly every inch of skin on the poor kid was covered with some sort of red, itchy, puss filled? puffiness, including the inside of his mouth.  And, the horror that was being deposited into his diaper by some evil creature of death was nearly unbearable.  For both of us.  There was just absolutely no way that there was nothing wrong.  Healthy humans do smell (or look) the way he did.  So, instead of continuing on the vision quest for truth that has been consuming us for the past 13 months, I was hopeful that we had finally located the key that could lock all this ugly away for a bit.

And then , there’s my fragile momtuition to consider.  For it’s sake, I really needed to be right on this one.  After all of my hard work, my battles with the oh-I’m-sure-it’s-nothing-let’s-just-see-medical-degree-holding naysayers, I really just wanted to be able to say: IN YO FACE DOC!  I needed to be able to trust that at least I know my baby.  I may not know much about crafting, or stain removing, or toilet cleaning, or even how to not yell at them when they punch each other in the face.  But, I know my babies.  And, I knew something wasn’t right.

The pleasure I feel now for not giving up (as they basically suggested), for knowing in my heart that something was amiss, and for fighting with them to get him evaluated is almost enough to cancel out the sadness I feel for the fact that he will never again savor the deliciousness of a peanut M&M.

Almost.

Mommy’s sorry sweetness:(

 

 

Feel free to leave your tips/suggestions if you are a similarly affected family.  I really just don’t know what kids eat for lunch if it’s not PB&J sandwiches, which, for the record, he literally asks me for at least 3 times per week.

*Go enter the Cheerios and Books Contest that ends tomorrow!
*And, don't forget to send over those effed up Christmas shots. You know you wanna win $200 smackers worth of stuff!

Looks Healthy, Right?

That's what my doctor basically told me when I took #3 to see her (and then him, and then her again, and then to another her) about the full body rash, the constant runny nose, and the persistent diarrhea we have been experiencing since my little dude was 10 months old.

She (and her co-conspirators) informed me that he maybe could possibly have some sort of a food sensitivity, but it's probably just that he's sensitive.

Sensitive? Sensitive to what? Of course he's sensitive, he's a frickin' one year old, they're all sensitive.

And, besides, sensitivity runs in the family. I've been known to get pretty easily chocked up over seemingly minor occurrences.

But, a sad bit in a movie, or an errant thoughtless comment has never caused me to break out in hives or lose total control of my bowels.

#3, as you may know, is a full fledged crap fest. He always has a dirty diaper, is about to dirty his diaper, or just got out of a dirty diaper.

This is the reason I abandoned my desire to cloth diaper. I couldn't imagine spending day after day (more like hour after hour) changing soaked through cloth crap pants (but I'm open for suggestions on this so that I may get into cloth diapering for the remainder of his unpotty trained life).

He is a walking, mostly-talking-but-usually-only-I-understand-him, dirty diaper.

The kid is a fecal nightmare and he has been since November, 2008 when he endured 17 straight days of runny, stinky, seriously-are-you-kidding-me-with-this-sh*t diarrhea.

His butt was riddled with open sores. They were so intense that we couldn't use wipes (or even a soft cotton cloth) to clean his rump.

He had to be bathed.

Every time he dropped a dewey, I had to run a tub full of warmish water (with mild soap) and let him soak in it.

That meant that he was averaging about 6-8 baths per day.

We got so sick of filling up the bath to soak our otherwise clean baby that we started using the sink in the boys' bathroom (which we marked off with police tape to prevent transmission in the unlikely event that this sh*t was viral).

Our savior finally arrived in a costly ($32 after insurance) jar of custom made (as in had to call three pharmacies and wait two days the first time) prescription diaper cream that we have since had to order 2 additional times.

Sadly, the child's butt still bears the scars; along with the "sensitive" area that will ignite from time to time and reopen in the event of a particularly bad day of dookie.

Obviously, during this time, despite the fact that he was characteristically happy and ravenous (was putting it in as fast as it was coming out), we took him to the pediatrician numerous times, they took countless stool samples (any idea how hard it is to collect a stool sample from a diarrhea diaper?), and even sent us for a visit with a gastroenterologist at Children's Hosptial in D.C. (verdict: unexplained toddler diarrhea).

Add to the irritable bowels the fact that he began to develop a strange rash, concentrated primarily to his hands and feet.

At first we thought, hand, foot, and mouth (aka Coxsackie disease), even though the mouth was not involved.

OK. Maybe the whole thing is a strange reaction to this virus.

But, we've effectively ruled that out since he has had flare ups of the rash 2 or 3 times per week since November, and now it is beginning to involve much more than hands and feet. It has spread across his back, torso, and inner thighs as well.

Again, countless trips to the pediatrician have resulted in a unacceptable diagnosis: viral sensitivity.

Does he have a virus? Has he had one recently?

Possibly (but I doubt it), because since November he has also had 4 ear infections, bronchitis, and a perpetual(as in all day every day for 4 months straight) runny nose that has affectionately earned him the moniker: My booger baby.

I am so exhausted from fighting with our medical professionals (who know everything, right?) over finding a solution for my little dude.

My Internet searches have been largely unhelpful.

So, my highly trained blog reading moms, any insight?

My feelings are that he has some sort of allergy to something in his environment (food, pollen, dust, air, me) that is causing a reaction and I'd like them to test him for it.

Their feelings are that he has a "sensitivity" to something (unclear what, possibly viruses) and I should give him Benadryl three times per day to prevent symptoms.

I am not happy with this for a number of reasons.

1. I'm a treat the problem instead of masking it kinda chick. If I know what I'm dealing with I can work to stop it at the source instead of treating the symptoms as the arise.

2. Benadryl, while handy for those cross-country-need-my-kid-to-sleep-to-prevent-being-stoned-by-fellow-passengers plane rides, is not a way of life. I give it to him, it knocks him out, and he can't think or learn or enjoy his family for the rest of the day.

3. Having diarrhea, itchy hands and feet, and a runny nose (which also causes a sore upper lip, and general ostracizing by local moms of toddlers) SUCKS. If I had to crap myself at work, rip my skin off from itching, or meet people with the face of a Garbage Pail Kid, I would be adamant about finding a solution. Just because he doesn't complain, doesn't mean he's not in pain. Or, at least feeling discomfort.

Really, I just don't know what to do.

It pains me to think that there is something that could be done to help my little guy, and I can't get anyone to realize that he has a problem. They all seem to dismiss us with a causal, "Ahh, it's nothing serious (Oh? How do you know, because he's not dead?)." I can discern that it's probably nothing serious (he's happy, growing, and otherwise healthy) even without 11 years of schooling. But that is hardly the issue. If he were an adult he wouldn't be expected to just deal with it, grow out of it, or ignore it.

I doubt any of my readers are doctors, but if you happen to know one, aspire to be one, or used to be one in a former life, please feel free to weigh in on this situation. I guess there is a remote possibility I'm overreacting.

I could certainly use some objective opinions:)