Pityriasis Rosea update

I've posted off and on about my bout with Pityriasis Rosea, but you can read the whole sordid story over at the Chicago Moms Blog. As of this morning, my spots are about 60% faded and I no longer itch. I also no longer look like a freak from Planet Measles, which is a huge relief because I'm flying to Oregon to visit my high school bestie Franny tomorrow morning, and a spa visit is on our itinerary.

I have a diagnosis

I was able to see a dermatologist this morning, who immediately diagnosed my rash as Pityriasis Rosea. He gave me a stronger topical medicine and told me that lying in a tanning bed might help speed my recovery.

I'm still pretty uncomfortable, but it feels good to know what I've got and that it is treatable, it won't return and shouldn't leave any lasting marks.

Bathing beauties

I'm trying to keep my spirits up, but my mystery rash isn't getting any better. My MIL suggested it might be something called PLEVA, which is rare, little-known and has no cure. Fan-f-ing-tastic.

The itchy and scratchy show

After going to the Walgreen's Take Care clinic on Sunday morning (because OMG I can't go to the Chicago Moms Blog mixer with pinkeye) and walking out with prescriptions for Nasonex and antibiotic eye drops, I still felt shitty with a capital S on Monday. I added too much water to Z's instant oatmeal. I forgot to put product in my hair. I couldn't find my Blackberry case. There was no way I could go to work until I'd seen a physician.

So Monday morning I saw our family practice doc and she told me to keep up the eye drops and add oral antibiotics to the mix. She blamed my fogginess on the antihistamines, calling it a "Benadryl hangover." The wicked congestion, sore throat, cough and headaches I'd been suffering from were due to a sinus infection. Oh, and I had broken out in a head to toe rash of red dots all over my body. But she didn't seem overly concerned with them.

Wednesday morning I felt well for the first time in weeks. It was a glorious feeling, breathing through my nose, putting in my contact lenses. Except the rash wasn't getting any better. It was a glorious summer-like day and I couldn't bare my legs. Hell, I couldn't even shave them! Oh, and without my Benadryl fog, the itchiness has gotten to be almost too much to bear.

So tomorrow I'm going back for a follow-up visit. I'll keep you posted...

4/16 Just got back from my doctor appointment. Her reaction: "This looks like chicken pox, did you have a confirmed case as a child?" I told her I was pretty sure I had it in the 5th grade, but when I called my mom to check afterwards, she said she thought I had it as a baby or toddler. Anyway, the doc thinks that whatever it is, it's viral and it will have to get better on its own. In the meantime, I am to rest, rest, rest. And not stress. Which means I'm staying home and taking lukewarm oatmeal baths and trying not to to look at myself because, OMG, I'm covered in hideous spots!!!

I've been (food) poisoned

I still remember the last time I had food poisoning. Josh and I ate a bag of some frozen orangey-Asian dish from Trader Joe's and woke up in agony. Z was about 6 months old and as rookie parents we couldn't figure out how we were supposed to take care of her when both of us were curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, so we called some childless friends who swooped in and entertained her for a few hours.

Well, the barf-and-backdoor-agony is back. Fortunately I'm the only one affected, which narrows the culprit food down to a single dish--the only one Josh and I didn't share. Rick Bayless, your Alaskan Cod with Chorizo was more than a little off last night. Seriously, I've been poisoned by French street food, an Asian frozen dinner and a meal by the winner of Top Chef? The most expensive meal I've enjoyed in a year?!? I'm struck dumb.

Anyway, I huddled under my blankets from 4am to 4pm, leaving only to bolt into the bathroom. Oh, about every 15 minutes. But it's 4:15 now and I'm bathed and dressed and alive--if more than a little weak and shaky.

Naturally this happened on the first 70 degree day of the year--a day when my entire team was going out to (a free) lunch. At one of my favorite downtown restaurants. I'll guess I'll just take solace in the fact that no food sounds appetizing to me right about now.

Being sick sucks

But being a sick mom really, really sucks.

I don't need to bore you with the details (I polished off a box of Theraflu, half a bottle of Nyquil and a box of tissues!), but the good news is I'm on the mend.

Both of my nostrils have regained function and the only remnant of my illness is the nice, wet rattle in my chest, which is not unlike the cough you'd hear from an alcoholic, chain-smoking "resident" of Lower Wacker Drive.

Princess Vomit gets a morning with Mom

Z was unusually sedate yesterday afternoon--turns out she was running a fever. Josh dosed her with ibuprofen and let her eat a bowl of Grape-Nuts for dinner instead of the tacos he'd made for the rest of us. As we were clearing the table Z stood next to my chair, ashen-faced. At the same time, Josh and I asked "Are you going to throw up?"

"Nuh-uh," she replied. Fifteen seconds later, she was vomiting all over the floor.

She hasn't run a fever or barfed since, but she's home from school regardless. I'm staying home with her this morning, watching Curious George, playing Go Fish and coloring in her Charlie & Lola coloring activity book while Josh takes A to her parent-tot class at Temple.

So far, the only sign of sickness is a runny nose.

How long until this one catches it?

Baaa...I'm sick

Suffering from a massive headache and pretty major body aches, I shuffled home yesterday an hour early and went straight to bed. In spite of the fact that it was 88 degrees outside, I turned off our bedroom A/C and crawled under 2 blankets, shivering.

I stayed in bed until this morning, only getting up to bathe and nurse A. Then it was off to the doctor's office where they oohed and aahed over my inflamed tonsils, throat and lymph nodes.

But since the initial strep test came back negative, I was sent home to battle my fever with alternating doses of Tylenol and Advil. They also gave me a prescription for antibiotics to fill if I'm not feeling better by tomorrow morning.

A light at the end of the tunnel

After days and days of sleepless nights tending to a feverish baby and a bed-wetting preschooler who refused to wear a Pull-Up, we've finally found some peace. Josh and I went to bed last night at 10:00 and didn't deal with our children until 4:30am, when I brought A into bed to nurse and doze with us until (almost!) 6. The baby had cried out at 2:30, but once Josh realized that trying to re-binkify her was only making her mad ("Where's Mama and her lovely ta-tas?"), we let her fuss herself to sleep. It took less than 10 minutes, so it wasn't too torturous.

Today my fairly well and well-rested family honored Mother's Day by treating me to the decadent monstrosity that is the Original Pancake House's Apple Pancake. The weather was God-awful all day, but the kids took nice long naps and kept the whining and crying to a minimum in spite of being cooped up all day. A playdate with a new neighbor kept the pre-dinner hour lively--and judging from the gigglefest coming from inside her tent, it looks like Z has a new playmate.

And best of all, Z has agreed to wear a Pull-Up in exchange for keeping her water bottle with her at night. The ironic thing: she's kept it dry.

Queasy

I'm home sick today, sleeping off and on and surfing the web from my bed. I started feeling a little off around 4:30 yesterday afternoon haven't eaten more than a bowl of Grape-Nuts in the last 23 hours.

I'm lying perfectly still and yet I still feel perpetually carsick. Ick.

I toughed it out for the kids last night and this morning, but I'm glad they're both at daycare today. I'm not sure I can handle any small children dive-bombing my midsection until this passes.

I hate keeping secrets

Two friends, both fellow mommybloggers, have big big news to announce, but neither of them have updated their blogs yet. I'm keeping my lips sealed for now, but congratulations to both of you!

As for me, I'm miserable right now. I've contracted pink eye in both eyes. It's very fourth grade and not at all cool for a contacts-wearing gal who hasn't purchased new eyeglasses in five years. I'm taking solace in the fact that my inbox is crammed with entries for my little diaper bag giveaway!

We're back

I'm still cleaning up after their snot, barf and diarrhea, but we made it home alive. Sick, but alive. I was so exhausted yesterday that I went to bed at 8 o'clock last night. The previous night I hadn't gotten more than 45 minutes of sleep at a time, so I felt positively jet-lagged. This trip may have us rethinking our decision to travel to Australia next winter.

This picture shows Baby A with her Grandma and Great-Grandpa Reuben (on his 96th birthday).

Wish me luck

Tomorrow we head home on a sold-out Southwest flight. Not only did I miss the "A" boarding window, I've got a teething 5-month-old lap baby with a major head cold (fever, weepy eyes, wet cough and nonstop nasal drip) and a 3-year-old who threw up everywhere just after our food arrived at a Lebanese restaurant tonight. We hustled her home wearing nothing but her little sister's onesie unsnapped under my coat.

And yes, since he's all "I told you so" anyway, I'll issue my public mea culpa here. Josh warned me we were in for trouble if we took the girls out to dinner tonight. Z had been pissy and whiny all afternoon and she hadn't had much of an appetite all day, but I thought worst-case scenario would be a whole lot of pouting--not a bucket full of puking. So I packed crayons and stickers instead of a spare outfit.

I think my mom and her boyfriend will be pretty happy to see us and go. We've stunk their car up with the smell of french fries, used up all their Kleenex and put their new washer-dryer through its paces with 5 loads of laundry in as many days.

Holiday travel

We arrived in Arlington, Virginia around noon on Christmas after what just might have been the easiest flight we've ever taken with Z. And this trip involved two kids. Two sick kids, at that.

First of all, a comment on Southwest's new boarding policy: I've read a lot of complaints about how folks miss Southwest's old "parents of young children board first" policy. Now families with A passes board with the A group and parents holding B or C group passes board after group A but before group B. Having printed out our boarding passes about 20 hours before take-off, we were at the tail end of group A, positions 52, 53 and 54 to be exact. And Southwest's new boarding policy is very exact. They lined up group A by position number (with the aid of some marked posts) and everyone boarded in the order they'd printed out their boarding passes. It seems a little anal-retentive, but I don't miss the old Southwest pre-board hustle and jostle for position. I sat with Z and Baby A (we were able to squeeze on her car seat even though the flight was nearly sold out) and Josh positioned himself across the aisle from us. While the baby was napping and Z was watching a video I even read 30 or 40 pages worth of a book!

Since arriving in Arlington, we've seen friends, family (including Josh's 96-year-old grandfather) and sorta-friends/family. What am I supposed to call my mom's boyfriend's grown children anyway? I've pigged out on Thankgiving-type food from my Mom's kitchen, which has enough food in the pantry to see a family of five through a nuclear winter and more open condiments in the fridge than your average Fuddrucker's. And tonight we picked up enormous burgers and fries from Five Guys.

I mentioned that the girls are sick. Z's getting over a run-of-the-mill cold, but it's hit Baby A with a vengeance. She's got watery, gummy eyes and terrible nasal congestion. Watching her try to nurse I think she'd have better luck holding her nose and drinking from a fire hose. I have to give the kid credit, though. In spite of her condition, she's been napping well and smiling at all of her admirers.

Cough, sneeze, wheeze and cry

Welcome to the sick ward. While she seems fine during the day and she hasn't been hit with a fever yet, Z's got a nasty-sounding nighttime cough. She refuses to take medicine, but I'm contemplating spiking a cup of OJ with Benadryl. In the meantime, she's getting some relief from Vicks BabyRub and a humidifier.

What she isn't getting is this message: Please don't kiss Baby A's face while you have a cough.

"But I'm not coughing right now," she retorts. Which is literally true, even if the previous moment witnessed her coughing into her elbow (good) and wiping her nose with her hand (ick).

It may already be a lost cause because A is pitifully congested. And miserable. She cried nonstop for over an hour tonight. About 55 minutes longer than she's ever cried before. There were real tears, for goodness sake!

I'm hoping for a quick recovery on all fronts, but in the meantime I need to get a little something off my chest: I really like using the snot sucker on my baby. It is so satisfying to extract a ginormous booger from my baby's tiny nostrils.

Bye-bye rotavirus

From my phone conversation with Josh around 5:15pm yesterday, I was pretty sure I'd be home taking care of a sick kid today. She was crying for Mama nonstop and refusing all food and drink, and it was clear my husband was at the end of his rope. But from the moment they met me at the train station, Z was her happy-go-lucky regular self.

We got home and she decided she'd like some orange juice, which she sipped as we played Cariboo, her very first game. After playtime, she willingly undressed herself and hopped into the bath. She even let me give her a shampoo, so I was able to finally remove the lingering scent of barf from her hair.

We returned to our night-night routine, putting on clean jammies, brushing teeth, reading library books on the rocking chair and cuddling for a few minutes in the dark. When I brought her to her bed, she asked for song, which is also pretty typical. But in a new twist, I am no longer allowed to sing any familiar tunes. I have to make up a song based on her request. "Sing a song about Z and sippy cups," was last night's demand. So, to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon," I sang the tale of Z and her Magic Sippy Cup.

The girl slept all night and woke up with a plain old wet diaper, a healthy appetite and a very strong desire to go to Adriana's house (day care). I can't tell you how relieved I am to see her back to normal, and I've got my fingers crossed that she stays that way.

A sick way to start your day

Z collapsed into bed around 6:30 last night and we didn't hear a peep all night. That was the good news. The bad news came at 5am when she began shouting, "Mama! Mama!" I went into her room and the smell of vomit hit me full in the face. Eyes watering, I turned on the light to see that my little angel had been sleeping in a puddle of puke. And she had a diaper full of diarrhea.

Am I scaring away my readership yet? If you've got a weak stomach, come back in a couple of days. I swear I'll start writing about something else soon.

I cleaned her up, wet combed her sick-smelling hair and deposited her in our bed so that I could tend to the bed linens and pajamas and start yet another load laundry.

I believe Z's first words to Josh were, "Don't touch my hair, Daddy. It has throw-up in it."

Recovery in progress

Last night was rough. Z had a temperature above 103 degrees, and she was so miserable she was reduced to a pitiful little whimper-cry. At least I was able to provide her with some comfort. About every hour or so. All night long.

Josh took the morning shift of watching DVDs on the couch with our little hot potato, and I made it home around 2pm to take over. By late afternoon, Z was able to hold her head up and keep liquids and a few bites of food down. She still has pretty loud, frequent and frightening diarrhea, but I think we're over the hump. Her fever is way down and she's taking an interest in the world outside. We even ventured onto the back porch to watch the neighbor kids run around.

I'm sad we missed out on having a Passover seder with our friends Julie and Steve and their kids, but we had a nice traditional meal while Z watched Alice in Wonderland for the second or third time today.

Tonight I'm going to go to bed early to make up for last night's fitful rest. I guess women who space their children really closely are pregnant before their first is sleeping through the night, but I'm not cut out for it.

Things fall apart

Yeah, it looks like the rotavirus has made itself at home in our house.

Z woke up feverish, listless and thirsty, and she threw up the apple juice-Pedialyte cocktail I prepared for her shortly after we made it downstairs. But in a big improvement over yesterday, she barfed in the plastic basin I'd given her and not all over the couch.

As the morning went on and Cinderella turned into Calliou, vomit made way for diarrhea, which has been plaguing her all morning, but she has been able to keep down successive doses of the Pedialyte cocktail as well as some Infant Tylenol lemonade I mixed up. That and two bites of a bagel and maybe six squares of Life cereal. The kid is pitiful. She can barely stand up, and if I put her down for a moment, she sinks down on the floor. She whimpered through my 10 minute shower in spite of Josh's efforts to soothe her. I guess when you're that sick, only Mama will do. Mama and a stack familiar DVDs.

Unpleasant but manageable, right? Wrong. While I was tending to the nasty liquids spewing forth from our daughter, Josh was stuck dealing with our vomiting kitchen sink. I don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's involved lots of plunging, a little cursing and virtually all of the pipes removed from under the sink. Hopefully the friendly folks at Ace Hardware--together with some advice from our friend Eric--will keep us from having to call a plumber tomorrow.

If we're out a functioning sink, we may need to downgrade our Passover seder plans yet again. I already backed out of my friend Julie's seder on account of this virus, but if the sink isn't working, I'm not sure we'll be able to cook anything!

At least our washing machine is still going strong...

Regurgitating my plans

Even the best-laid plans can by thrown off by a kid with a nasty stomach bug. Our first indication that something was wrong came when we were four blocks away from a Ravenswood pizza place we'd been meaning to try. We heard a gagging sound coming from the backseat, and Z had her fist in her mouth. Seconds later, the first stream of vomit arched over her pink jacket. Then the second wave.

We don't pack spare clothes anymore, so Josh turned the car around and headed toward a more commercial strip to look for a place to pick up a new outfit. I immediately spotted an upscale kiddie boutique and we pulled into a parking space nearby. Baby wipes and coat removal got rid of the biggest chunks, and I carried Z into the chi-chi clothing store where I made a beeline to the sale rack. Forty-seven dollars later (gulp!) Z was freshly dressed in a brown corduroy dress and cream-colored tights and we made it to Spacca Napoli, where one of Josh's freelance friends was waiting for us. Z didn't want to eat the unfamiliar-looking pizza, but she happily munched on cheese and animal crackers.

My lovely green couch and I got the chance to wear said snacks, plus a full sippy cup of milk a couple of hours later.

Then, after one hour and two sippy cups full of watered-down apple juice, my loveseat got the upchuck treatment.

Two hours after that, Z demanded a peanut butter and honey sandwich and milk, which I reluctantly gave her. Then, when my doula stopped by to say hello and drop off a book and CD, Z blew chunks all over the front porch.

Needless to say, we sent Josh to the Chavurah party alone. My evening was a dance of laundry, paper towels, rags and cuddles. And the Peter Pan DVD.