DUOFILIA

We were supposed to go on a trip by train today, but instead we’ve decided to stay home and eat bland foods.

For the past month, my daughter Sydney has had intermittent episodes of vomiting. It started with gastroenteritis (commonly known by the misnomer “stomach flu”) which her twin also had. Then it resolved, but a few days later woke up in the night with vomiting. It would go away then come back. There were other factors, like the heat wave we’ve had and probably not drinking enough fluid. So finally, for a week, she didn’t have any problems so I thought we were done with it. Until yesterday morning.

Sydney woke up vomiting and vomited every 15-20 minutes thereafter for several hours. No urination since nine the previous night. I couldn’t get enough fluid in her to keep up with the losses and she was just like a limp noodle. I took her to the doctor who told us, as I knew she would, to take Sydney to Emanuel, the children’s emergency department. So the three of us, Sydney and Summerlyn and I, drove to Portland.

The children’s ED waiting room was empty, amazingly, and they called us within 15 minutes. Sydney, lethargic and looking old, didn’t cry or even whimper when the nurse inserted the IV needle. We waited, hour after hour, while the saline dripped in. Summerlyn was all over the place. She played nurse and doctor several times, checking Sydney’s IV, pretending to take her blood pressure and messing with the medical supplies as far as I would allow. We were in the ED for seven hours and for a five year old, she did extremely well entertaining herself and her sister. She made Sydney giggle when she placed her tummy on a stool with wheels and pushed herself across the room as fast as possible, crashing into the wall on the other side. After a couple times I told her to stop banging into things before the ED staff thought we were trashing the room.

David came right after work, which allowed Summerlyn and me to go get something to eat. I let her run down the halls to get the energy out. After one liter of IV saline, one popsicle and two juice cups, Sydney finally urinated (after 21 hours of no urination), which is astounding. Her labs showed she was only moderately dehydrated when she came in, yet she soaked up a huge amount of fluid.

Then she started passing gas, which is good since it shows the bowels are working again. ED staff walking by saw all four of us waving our hands around in an attempt to waft the odor away. David said, “they probably think it’s some strange family ritual.”

Sydney started perking up and rather enjoyed the ultrasounds. Highlights, for her, including looking at her kidneys which she thought looked like a tomato and a slice of olive bread. She also saw the fluids flowing in her intestines and thought it was cool that she got to see herself making poo.

Finally, late at night, she was discharged, although without diagnosis. The doctors were concerned and kept me well informed (since I’m an RN, David asked me to talk to the doctors, “so you guys can do your secret handshake and they’ll tell you more”). She’ll be seeing her doctor next week, who wants to rule out atypical migraines and intermittent intussuception. Her white blood count was higher than normal and her intestines were somewhat inflamed, but that was all. She looks tired today and has dark rings around her eyes, but otherwise seems back to her normal self and is cheerful and eating and drinking well — she specifically asked for “10-grain hot cereal” for breakfast!

Please keep little Syd in your prayers. It’s so hard to see my little girl so miserable and not know what is going on. Hopefully it’s nothing serious and this chapter is over.

This morning, the sun was hitting my mirror in just a way that I could actually see myself. The lighting in my bathroom is bad, but it’s not that big deal to me since I’m not a person to spend time gazing at myself for any longer than necessary than to verify that I have at least partially improved upon my out-of-bed appearance. But this time, to my wonder what should appear, but dozens of silver hairs over my ears. How did that happen?

I am close to 38 years old and I actually have no problem with the prospect of turning 40. Forty means you have gained wisdom, and if not, you can fake it. Currently, I feel a lot more comfortable with myself than I did ten years ago, and I’m down with that (I’m in that twilight period between sounding normal when using youthful slang and sounding like an idiot).

But the part of aging that means the beginning of the physical deterioration…well. It is a reality with which I am not down. I don’t know how much I really care about a scattering of wrinkles – a word the cosmetic industry does not use, but rather lines, as if some wicked but blithe pixie drew sun rays on your face while you slept. Or perhaps lines, like something one could snort and not care that your face is so marked that CSI could plaster a tread off it.

I received an email from my dear friend Gardengirl the other day, who kindly shared her hair color recipe with me (red dye #40, eye of newt, etc.). A week ago I would have told you that I probably wouldn’t be coloring my hair any time soon and perhaps not at all. But that was based upon a notion that I’d go gray very gradually, perhaps over decades. Now my illusion has been shattered and I see that the graying has developed speed and acceleration, like that guy in The Last Crusade, who drank from the wrong cup.

So one of these days I will turn 40, which I’ll enter with nary a silver strand. But lines? Bring ‘em on.

Or not. I’ll get back to you on that.

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UPDATE: I corrected the above trilogy reference, thanks to CBRad, one of my fellow geeks who helps keep me in line. 

 

In an online Newsweek Health article, authors Peg Tyre and Julie Scelfo interview neuropsychiatrist Dr.Louann Brizendine regarding the recent publication of her book The Female Brain. In this controversial book, Brizendine outlines her evidence-based theories that the female brain is different than the male brain. Many people decry this concept because it flies in the face of common feminist ideology, that is, in order to be equal, women’s brains must be essentially identical to men’s. 

Right. Now please understand that I am a feminist, but before I lose half my readership and gain readership from a new demographic, I will be more specific to say that I am a feminist per the dictionary definition which states feminism “is the belief in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes.” In other words, women and girls, are as deserving of freedom and all other human rights, as would be any other human. While I staunchly support that concept, that is usually where typical feminists and I part ways. I do believe, for instance, that women and men are different and do better at different roles (generally speaking), so this article simply makes me think, “duh!”   (more…)

I took these pictures 15 minutes ago, standing on my deck. God saying, “I love you!”

Wow, is it Thursday again? How did that happen?

Today’s link focus is on my favorite cousin (ok, he’s David’s cousin, but I’ve adopted him). He hasn’t seen my blog yet, but when he visits today (first time in years, I might add), and sees my blog he’ll probably say, ”oh, nice girly blog, Sheryle.” Whatever. It’s a delicate balance between not alienating the woman readers nor the men readers. Next year, however, I plan on reinventing Duofilia to reflect more of my tomboy side (the plays-guy-type-video-games, geeky, loves speed and driving, and the used-to-be athletic side of me), yet without getting rid of the high-heels side of me. You’ll approve, Roger.

Congratulations Roger for your recent Air Force retirement! Whoohoo! I just like to take this moment to remind you that if I had joined the Air Force you’d have to salute me. So there. Here’s a link for you (I like the first cartoon the best) plus the following:

On some air bases the Air Force is on one side of the field and civilian aircraft use the other side of the field, with the control tower in the middle.

One day the tower received a call from an aircraft asking, “What time is it?” The tower responded, “Who is calling?” The aircraft replied, “What difference does it make?” The tower replied “It makes a lot of difference.

1) If it is an American Airlines flight, it is 3 o’clock.
2) If it is an Air Force plane, it is 1500 hours.
3) If it is a Navy aircraft, it is 6 bells.
4) If it is an Army aircraft, the big hand is on the 12 and the little hand is on the 3.
5) If it is a Marine Corps aircraft, it’s Thursday afternoon and 120 minutes to “Happy Hour.”

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So when was the last time you played this game? We had such a blast playing RoboRally for hours. It was geek paradise. I can’t wait until the girls are older so that we can add their uniqueness to our own and play this game. Oh, wait, they’ve already been assimilated.

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And finally, I’ve found the place for you to call home. It’s a land called Portland and it’s way closer to us (not to mention WAY more attractive) than your current home.