Sunday, November 01, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Why We Need Healthcare Reform
Or
Why Asthma Sucks, Part 78
The boy has asthma; the baby does not. This does put them both in the catgory recommended to receive the flu vaccine every year.
The boy also has food allergies, including an allergy to eggs. The boy had his first flu shot in December of 2002, before his allergy was diagnosed. He had no reaction to the shot.
The following spring his allergies were diagnosed. His records don’t list him being vaccinated when he was one or two. One of those years I was expecting the baby, and would have received one also, but there was a shortage that year. I was not hauling my hugely pregnant self and a toddler into town to wait in the county health department line with a bunch of elderly people for hours.
Bellevue pediatrics gave him his flu vaccines again in October of 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008. He never once had a reaction to any of these vaccines.
The child has had severe asthma flares since he entered kindergarten. Every cold that came along his first year in school landed him in the ER.
And now it’s fall 2009, the year of the swine flu. A highly contagious, new strain of the flu for which there is no herd immunity. Which is hospitalizing children and young adults at rates much higher than the elderly and ill, opposite the seasonal flu.
We schedule the flu shots. The nurse practitioner refuses to administer the vaccine. Wants his allergist to sign off on the flu shot. We contact the allergist’s office. It’s been eight months since he’s seen that doctor. Eight months ago that doctor wanted to challenge his egg allergy, which we chose not to do at that time as we had just challenged his milk allergy and were introducing dairy to his diet.
The allergist’s office wants us either to challenge the egg allergy, or get enough of the flu vaccine from Bellevue pediatrics to use as an egg challenge. Here comes the epic logic fail: how in the hell were the flu vaccines he received in 2002, 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008 not challenges to his egg allergy but an extra dose of the vaccine this year will be?
In summary, we now have two medical practices more concerned about being sued over a possible allergic reaction than the possibility of a school-aged child with compromised lung function catching swine flu.
And guess what, while the two medical practices are busy trying to push their responsibilities off on each other, the child catches swine flu. Well, technically we don’t know that as the pediatrician discouraged us from having his strain typed, but she did say the swine flu IS the only flu they are seeing.
Child also has an ear infection, so we leave the doc’s office with prescriptions for amoxicillin and Tamiflu. But not the child-friendly, liquid dose of Tamiflu. The pharmacies are all out of that. His weight puts him between the two dosages of capsules Tamiflu is available in. This means he takes two pills twice a day for five days, twenty pills in all.
Except UPMC Healthcare considers ten pills to be a prescription of the 30 mg dosage of Tamiflu. Therefore, the pharmacy that does have Tamiflu (and we called them all) has to give us two and a half days worth for our forty dollar copay. And then two days later I get to take a highly contagious child out to a store to pay another forty dollars for the other half of his medicine. So screw you, UPMC.
And while I’m at it, screw you for uglying up our skyline.
And we are fortunate to have health insurance. We’re fortunate that we can come up with the two copays. Because that Tamiflu is the only thing that has kept our kid out of the ER. We’re fortunate we have jobs where we can manage to get some time off and juggle our schedules.
The baby was vaccinated for both seasonal and swine flu. Which we didn't get to quickly enough, as he woke up today with the same flu symptoms his brother has. Their dad works in a small office. Worst case scenario for him should he get sick is he stays out of the office longer and works from home more.
I work retail. We’re going into the holiday season, our most crucial time of the year, in a recession year. My company gives us PTO (paid time off) days. We can use these as sick days, vacation days, kid emergencies, whatever, but we cannot schedule them after November tenth. We can only carry one over into January of next year. So, the actuality becomes all of us full time employees use or lose our paid sick time by the first week of November. I’m out of sick days. If I catch the swine flu, I will be taking massive doses of ibuprofen and DayQuil and heading to work.
Why Asthma Sucks, Part 78
The boy has asthma; the baby does not. This does put them both in the catgory recommended to receive the flu vaccine every year.
The boy also has food allergies, including an allergy to eggs. The boy had his first flu shot in December of 2002, before his allergy was diagnosed. He had no reaction to the shot.
The following spring his allergies were diagnosed. His records don’t list him being vaccinated when he was one or two. One of those years I was expecting the baby, and would have received one also, but there was a shortage that year. I was not hauling my hugely pregnant self and a toddler into town to wait in the county health department line with a bunch of elderly people for hours.
Bellevue pediatrics gave him his flu vaccines again in October of 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008. He never once had a reaction to any of these vaccines.
The child has had severe asthma flares since he entered kindergarten. Every cold that came along his first year in school landed him in the ER.
And now it’s fall 2009, the year of the swine flu. A highly contagious, new strain of the flu for which there is no herd immunity. Which is hospitalizing children and young adults at rates much higher than the elderly and ill, opposite the seasonal flu.
We schedule the flu shots. The nurse practitioner refuses to administer the vaccine. Wants his allergist to sign off on the flu shot. We contact the allergist’s office. It’s been eight months since he’s seen that doctor. Eight months ago that doctor wanted to challenge his egg allergy, which we chose not to do at that time as we had just challenged his milk allergy and were introducing dairy to his diet.
The allergist’s office wants us either to challenge the egg allergy, or get enough of the flu vaccine from Bellevue pediatrics to use as an egg challenge. Here comes the epic logic fail: how in the hell were the flu vaccines he received in 2002, 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008 not challenges to his egg allergy but an extra dose of the vaccine this year will be?
In summary, we now have two medical practices more concerned about being sued over a possible allergic reaction than the possibility of a school-aged child with compromised lung function catching swine flu.
And guess what, while the two medical practices are busy trying to push their responsibilities off on each other, the child catches swine flu. Well, technically we don’t know that as the pediatrician discouraged us from having his strain typed, but she did say the swine flu IS the only flu they are seeing.
Child also has an ear infection, so we leave the doc’s office with prescriptions for amoxicillin and Tamiflu. But not the child-friendly, liquid dose of Tamiflu. The pharmacies are all out of that. His weight puts him between the two dosages of capsules Tamiflu is available in. This means he takes two pills twice a day for five days, twenty pills in all.
Except UPMC Healthcare considers ten pills to be a prescription of the 30 mg dosage of Tamiflu. Therefore, the pharmacy that does have Tamiflu (and we called them all) has to give us two and a half days worth for our forty dollar copay. And then two days later I get to take a highly contagious child out to a store to pay another forty dollars for the other half of his medicine. So screw you, UPMC.
And while I’m at it, screw you for uglying up our skyline.
And we are fortunate to have health insurance. We’re fortunate that we can come up with the two copays. Because that Tamiflu is the only thing that has kept our kid out of the ER. We’re fortunate we have jobs where we can manage to get some time off and juggle our schedules.
The baby was vaccinated for both seasonal and swine flu. Which we didn't get to quickly enough, as he woke up today with the same flu symptoms his brother has. Their dad works in a small office. Worst case scenario for him should he get sick is he stays out of the office longer and works from home more.
I work retail. We’re going into the holiday season, our most crucial time of the year, in a recession year. My company gives us PTO (paid time off) days. We can use these as sick days, vacation days, kid emergencies, whatever, but we cannot schedule them after November tenth. We can only carry one over into January of next year. So, the actuality becomes all of us full time employees use or lose our paid sick time by the first week of November. I’m out of sick days. If I catch the swine flu, I will be taking massive doses of ibuprofen and DayQuil and heading to work.
Monday, August 31, 2009
First Day of School
So I cried.
I did not cry last year for first grade.
I was hysterical the first day of kindergarten.
But the neighbor mom, whose kids are a year ahead of mine, had to pur her little girl on the bus. (And let me just say, that the Britney-fied outfit from Justice should not be made in that tiny little size.)And so the big brother held her hand and helped her up on to the bus, and I started tearing up. And when the mom turned around visibly crying, I lost it. And then she said, "now what am I going to do?"
And that's the point really. Five turns into eighteen. And then what are you going to do?
I did not cry last year for first grade.
I was hysterical the first day of kindergarten.
But the neighbor mom, whose kids are a year ahead of mine, had to pur her little girl on the bus. (And let me just say, that the Britney-fied outfit from Justice should not be made in that tiny little size.)And so the big brother held her hand and helped her up on to the bus, and I started tearing up. And when the mom turned around visibly crying, I lost it. And then she said, "now what am I going to do?"
And that's the point really. Five turns into eighteen. And then what are you going to do?
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Garage Bug
I? Am not a nature girl.
Forget the wrinkles or risk of skin cancer, the sun burns me. Within seconds.
Mosquitoes feast on me.
So, I leave nature alone as much as possible with the understanding it leave me alone.
I have boys. Two curious, energetic, outdoorsy boys. They like bugs. They really like to scare their mother with bugs. The older boy is in first grade. In the days of No Child Left Behind. Know what that means? That means these kids get math and reading books, and most everything else is hands on. Which has it's pros and cons. First graders learn about bugs by raising mealworms. Which become some sort of beetle. Which come home on the bus. To their father's house, thank dog....
At my house, we have some daddy long legs living in the stairwell. Occasionally a stink bug makes it's way across the living room floor. But there is this thing that has taken up residence in the garage.
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It's on a web. I have no idea if it's predator or prey, but it's been there a while. It's up high, next to where I get into my car. We've made our peace, the creepy bug and I. As long as it doesn't ever move while I am in the garage, I'll leave it alone.
The baby was playing in the garage the other day and happened to see the creepy garage bug. He comes barreling upstairs, insisting I come! Come! Mommy! Right come! and see this bug.
So, figuring this is what he's referring to, I come down to see the bug. Told him I'd seen it before, it wasn't bothering anyone.
“When did you see it, mommy? Did it make you freak in your pants?”
Ah, boys.
Forget the wrinkles or risk of skin cancer, the sun burns me. Within seconds.
Mosquitoes feast on me.
So, I leave nature alone as much as possible with the understanding it leave me alone.
I have boys. Two curious, energetic, outdoorsy boys. They like bugs. They really like to scare their mother with bugs. The older boy is in first grade. In the days of No Child Left Behind. Know what that means? That means these kids get math and reading books, and most everything else is hands on. Which has it's pros and cons. First graders learn about bugs by raising mealworms. Which become some sort of beetle. Which come home on the bus. To their father's house, thank dog....
At my house, we have some daddy long legs living in the stairwell. Occasionally a stink bug makes it's way across the living room floor. But there is this thing that has taken up residence in the garage.
">It's on a web. I have no idea if it's predator or prey, but it's been there a while. It's up high, next to where I get into my car. We've made our peace, the creepy bug and I. As long as it doesn't ever move while I am in the garage, I'll leave it alone.
The baby was playing in the garage the other day and happened to see the creepy garage bug. He comes barreling upstairs, insisting I come! Come! Mommy! Right come! and see this bug.
So, figuring this is what he's referring to, I come down to see the bug. Told him I'd seen it before, it wasn't bothering anyone.
“When did you see it, mommy? Did it make you freak in your pants?”
Ah, boys.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
I got nothing
No inspiration whatsoever. I could bitch about work. Or the weather. But instead, here's a poem lifted from Wicked Alice.
Insomnia
Chella Courington
You know me well strolling streets to be with people without
being with people. You ask for one dollar. One dollar.
What if I only have a twenty? Can I owe you for tonight?
Your eyes bloodshot like mine bags holding them up.
Johnson roamed London midnight to sunrise. Couldn’t bear
the garret stacked in leaves of words worked reworked
amanuenses oblivious to stale air to his rambling Fleet.
My rambling State slipping in my skin bleak above cement.
Days disintegrate unseen except by you grave lady reaching for me
singing a hymn my mother sang When nothing else would help
love lifted me. I’m not him: I can’t take you home. But I’ll leave you
this bill & all the change in my pocket.
Insomnia
Chella Courington
You know me well strolling streets to be with people without
being with people. You ask for one dollar. One dollar.
What if I only have a twenty? Can I owe you for tonight?
Your eyes bloodshot like mine bags holding them up.
Johnson roamed London midnight to sunrise. Couldn’t bear
the garret stacked in leaves of words worked reworked
amanuenses oblivious to stale air to his rambling Fleet.
My rambling State slipping in my skin bleak above cement.
Days disintegrate unseen except by you grave lady reaching for me
singing a hymn my mother sang When nothing else would help
love lifted me. I’m not him: I can’t take you home. But I’ll leave you
this bill & all the change in my pocket.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day
I’m working today. So, we had dinner and a movie night last night, during which BabyStar insisted on unwrapping, ahem, giving me my presents. He has finally reached the age where he doesn’t blurt out what the gift is as it’s being opened, but thinks anything taped up in paper is exciting.
The children’s father chose Marley and Me for the movie, as they had already watched all the other children’s movies on the OnDemand or Pay-per-View or whatever overpriced cable thing he has at his house.
And I am not even going to bitch about the end of that movie. I’ve read the reviews. I knew what was coming. And I knew that if the kids didn’t get upset on their own, they have a crier for a mother and would have gotten upset seeing her get upset.
I was just unprepared for what got me upset.
(I would imagine I’m the last person on the planet to see the movie, but just in case I’m not here’s your huge spoiler alert.)
There’s this scene early on where the happy pretty couple is expecting their first baby, and go in to have a sonogram. There’s the tense ultrasound tech, and the nondescript, soothing doctor speaking hollow platitudes in a hushed tone.
They left out a lot. They left out the cramps. They left out the blood, the copious, unbelievable amounts of blood. They left out how a body can open up and let go. They left out the catheter, the internal ultrasound, the Rhogam shot. The left out how kind, how willing to share their personal lives all the strangers who work at emergency rooms can be.
They left out the scene where you put your clothes back on and walk out into the cruelly bright April sunshine, into everything green and growing and blooming, and go forward carrying emptiness, carrying failure.
The children’s father chose Marley and Me for the movie, as they had already watched all the other children’s movies on the OnDemand or Pay-per-View or whatever overpriced cable thing he has at his house.
And I am not even going to bitch about the end of that movie. I’ve read the reviews. I knew what was coming. And I knew that if the kids didn’t get upset on their own, they have a crier for a mother and would have gotten upset seeing her get upset.
I was just unprepared for what got me upset.
(I would imagine I’m the last person on the planet to see the movie, but just in case I’m not here’s your huge spoiler alert.)
There’s this scene early on where the happy pretty couple is expecting their first baby, and go in to have a sonogram. There’s the tense ultrasound tech, and the nondescript, soothing doctor speaking hollow platitudes in a hushed tone.
They left out a lot. They left out the cramps. They left out the blood, the copious, unbelievable amounts of blood. They left out how a body can open up and let go. They left out the catheter, the internal ultrasound, the Rhogam shot. The left out how kind, how willing to share their personal lives all the strangers who work at emergency rooms can be.
They left out the scene where you put your clothes back on and walk out into the cruelly bright April sunshine, into everything green and growing and blooming, and go forward carrying emptiness, carrying failure.



