No More Prednisone!!!

Just got back from the retinal specialist (fancy eye doc) and they're taking me off of that vile Rx!!!

Here's the story.... get some popcorn, it's kind of long. And kind of funny. If you think STDs are funny.

In November last year, I went to see my regular eye guy because my vision seemed to be changing. He said everything was fine. By December, I had vertigo all the time but my vision had improved so much I didn't even need glasses anymore - and I'd been wearing glasses/contacts for 10 years. The doctors still didn't know why. Then one day in January I woke up and there was a BLIND SPOT in my peripheral vision. My eye guy sent me to the ER. My darling husband took me, made me laugh and kept me calm. After a CT and some basic blood tests, they said I didn't have any tumors pressing on my optic nerve. Great, but why am I going blind?! My eye guys suggests these things can be caused by cocaine use, and asks me very seriously if I'd been snorting anything powdery. No! Of course not! Fix my eyes, dammit! I don't need drug counseling!

3 days later I woke up with a blind spot smack in the middle of my vision. Alarmed? Yes. To put it mildly. Went back to eye doc and literally grabbed him by the shirt and screamed some not-nice things at him about it being his job to find out what's happening to me. I was terrified. All I could think of was that the next day I'd be blind and I'd never see my children again. So off I went to a retinal specialist.

This retinal specialist was a colorful character. Made jokes, really listened to what I was saying, and explained everything in very technical terms, which I appreciate because I'm a walking dictionary. He ordered some more tests and came up with a working diagnosis. We went to lunch, and when we were back in crazy retina guy's waiting room, my original eye doc calls my cell phone. He tells me that he got my first blood tests back and that I tested positive for syphilis.
WHAT?!??!!
So crazy eye doc calls us in and I'm in tears trying to tell him what my regular eye doc said. He flips through my chart and starts pointing at numbers and lines that mean nothing to me. He says my regular eye guy is reading the tests wrong!!! So what does my very funny husband say? "Well see, if you weren't such a coked out whore this wouldn't be happening" It made ME laugh :)

After an MRI, some more blood tests, a spinal tap, and a total neurological work up, crazy eye doc's diagnosis was confirmed and he started me on a high dose of prednisone. He said it might make me feel euphoric. I asked, how so? He replied, "Like you were dropped into the middle of a Bears game during 1st and ten" .... uhhh, okay.

Soooo I start the vile Rx only to find I can't sleep, I eat everything in sight, and suddenly no one wants to hang around me because I'm not a very nice person when I'm taking it. Did I mention the eating? Steroids cause puffiness around the face all on their own, but add a few pounds from indiscriminate eating and well, that didn't add to my lovely personality either.

Now, thanks to that quick thinking and wacky doctor my vision improved, my eyes are healed and all is right with the world. Oh, and I don't have syphilis ;)

You're old, and, and...

"You're old and, and... You're fat!"
That was a little gem said by my pre-schooler to my mother. Bless her heart, she said she laughed it off. Possibly after locking herself in a closet and crying for 20 minutes.

Last night grandma decided to treat the kids to Pizza Hut. Possibly because when I walked in the house and my little one latched onto my leg screaming that he was starving, I told him to go have a bowl of cereal. Or some Diet Coke. Whatever. It's Monday, and Mom's had a long day.

Soooo, we head to a Pizza Hut close to home and get 1 block away before Grandma decided she wants to go to a different Pizza Hut. Do you have any idea what kind of reaction that garnered from my starving children???? Seeing Pizza Hut only to then DRIVE AWAY?! Off we go, and Grandma decides to take the express way (We live in Chicago, "express" is a relative term) and misses the entrance. Then overshoots the next one. Will she give in and just take the streets?? Nope. The sun is setting and we're searching for the next entrance to get to Pizza Hut like it's a desert mirage.

Eventually we make it to another Pizza Hut. Little one decides the salad bar (another relative term) is a good idea. He will eat nothing but pineapple and bacon bits and doesn't even care that they've turned into pineapple chunks covered in bacon bits. Ew. The wonderful, nice waitress hears my little one saying (screeching - same thing) Grandma! Grandma! over and over so she comes and tells my mom that she's going to apply the senior discount to the order. This does not delight Grandma because she's not technically a senior (yet) So she turns to my older son, points to me and says, "Don't let her put me in a nursing home" and my darling child's eyes light up and he replies
"Yeah! You should go to a nursing home! You could live in one with a pool and I could come and visit!"
When I cleaned myself up -Dr. Pepper in one's nose is messy - I asked him if perhaps he meant one of the "55 and better" co-ops or condos instead of nursing home? At this point, he's off the subject so he doesn't really care about the specifics, so long as Grandma's going to live SOMEWHERE with a pool.

***49***

Since 2001, there have been FORTY NINE babies illegally abandoned in Illinois. Of those, 24 were found dead. The latest one was just this weekend in Chicago Ridge.
Twenty Four lives destroyed before they even had a chance. Why? Because a woman was too afraid to admit she was pregnant, too scared to keep the baby? Or too selfish to do the right thing? This isn't "someone else's" problem. These are our babies, and they're dying because we can't reach people in time to tell them THERE IS ANOTHER WAY!

For anyone who still thinks "it doesn't happen here"..... take a look at the stats of the known parents and infants:
Known age of mothers*: Age 14-18: 22.7%
Age 19-24: 29.6%
Age 25-30: 31.8%
Age 31-41: 15.9%

Known race of newborn*: African/Black:34.9%
Caucasian/White: 38.1%
Latino/Hispanic: 19.0%
Mixed Race: 8.0%

SO the bottom line is that the message needs to get out to EVERY WOMAN, EVERY RACE between the ages of 12 and 50! Illinois has a Safe Haven Law - any unharmed newborn up to 7 days old can be handed to a worker at ANY STAFFED hospital, police or fire station. NO QUESTIONS ASKED. Every state in the Union has a Safe Haven Law except Nebraska and Alaska and we're working on it there, too!!!!!

~ Sorry for ranting. It breaks my heart each and every time a baby is left for dead, or WORSE, killed by it's own mother. Some people don't think infanticide and infant abandonment have the same root cause, and they don't every single time.... but the laws are there to give women a legal and anonymous way to give their baby a chance. How could someone be so selfish when there's help literally around the corner?
As part of my work with the Foundation, I respond to unsafe abandonments. Every time this happens -far too often, if you ask me- I contact the local authorities: mayor, police, fire stations, as well as the congressional reps and senators. Each time I ask for help in posting Safe Haven information, donations to help fund the educator's packets we produce ... and I rarely ever get a response. Does that mean that no one cares unless it's an election issue? Or do they chalk it up as a standard ill of society???
My kids know about my work with the Foundation. The hardest question I've ever been asked is, "Momma, why would someone do that to their baby?" and do you know what? I still don't have an answer.

5 Things I've Heard This Week

1. "I've got a girlfriend. She's in 8th grade." This came from my 4th grade son. I'm almost afraid to ask what having a girlfriend actually entails.

2. "I can handle this!" says my almost 4 year old while putting a hand to his brother's face. My older son was being reprimanded for.. ummm... whatever, and his little brother steps in, gives him the hand and then proceeds to tell ME not to be mad at his brother.

3. "Right, those Oreros hidden behind the instant oatmeal were for the kids." This comes from my husband, who fished out said Oreos and presented them to me with a glass of milk. Nice guy.

4. "I hurt my butt!" almost 4 year old falls butt-first on bed railing.

5. "Wow! Is that a picture of you when you were young?!" Excuse me?? I'm not even 30 yet!

Car Accidents and Chick Lit

Jay-sus, Mary and Joseph! What the heck is wrong with people?! My husband talked me into trading in my much loved VW Jetta for a hulking man-mobile truck last year. Since November, it's been hit FOUR times. And we keep it in the garage at night!

The first hit was about a month after we took Big Bertha home with us. My husband took our older son to a book fair and came out to find a laughing teenager backing into the side of the truck. Needless to say, he was not happy. Another was a hit and run in a parking lot. Another was a rear hit from a giggling girl on a cell phone.

The last time, we were celebrating the 15th anniversary of the day we met -yes, I know, we're that old and lame- and taking the kids to the zoo. It was a bright sunny day, we were heading down Lake Shore Drive when a toothless old coot in a pick up truck rammed us from behind. Yes, rammed. He didn't slow down, didn't apologize, and didn't hear well. "Ya gotta speak up! Uh I tell ya, that was just silly!" What was silly? Daring to drive in front of Mr. AARP?

Monday I was driving home in the rain, listening to Incubus and minding my own business. Was waiting at a light to make a left turn. Light changes, oncoming car blows red light. Did we have an accident? No. I waited for him to clear the intersection, then slowly went ahead. Of course it was slowly, it was raining and it's Chicago traffic for cripe's sake. So a young guy on a bicycle decides that since the car could blow the light, he could, too. Didn't work so well for him. I hit the brakes, he tumbled and fell half way under my front bumper. Honest - I thought I'd killed the guy. I backed up to pull around him, then jumped out to see if he was okay. He apologizes repeatedly, saying he thought he could make it. THEN he looks at me and starts telling me how sweet I am. For not running him over like the idiot he is?! I'm standing there yelling at the guy and he's telling me I'm great. Did he think he was going to get a ride? A date?

A while back I decided I could easily write a chick lit book. Chick Literature - The brain candy I read to amuse myself in between more serious texts. My husband suggests this almost-accident is a great opening for a book. I think maybe he's right.....

Bubba

Today I got the chance to meet one of my heroes. After standing in line for more hours than I care to count, I got 10 seconds to hold the hand of Bill Clinton. He's taller than I thought.

When I say he's my hero, it's because I have nothing but respect for this man, I'm constantly inspired by his work and it was an honor just to meet him. And I told him so. Well, not the hero part. I've got some shred of self respect left. You wouldn't know it by how excited I was and how I stood in line and said to anyone who would listen that the pesky amendment about term limits should be repealed.

For hours we stood in line talking and joking. Come on, it's Slick Willie, of COURSE we were cracking jokes. Finger wagging denials of sexual relations, Hillary impersonations. Someone suggested we younger women ask him to sign body parts. Afterwards my husband asked, "Did he offer you a cigar?"

All the joking stopped when we finally rounded a corner and could actually see The Man. People got quiet, reflective, and started talking about how he's touched their lives. It was amazing to see the passion he inspires in so many different people. In our little group there was an older woman who said she'd been a Southern Republican her whole life until Bill came along. A kid with a huge yellow mohawk. Two older black women who were giggling like little girls when they got close enough to get nervous. A dentist from Minnesota. A young woman from Pakistan who said she knows that Bill means to do good and change the world. The craziest part about it? All these people were so open, and so visibly moved by their 10 second meeting with him.

This isn't something I'd normally do, the whole standing in line for hours thing just to shake someone's hand. I'm not dazzled blind by rock stars or celebrities. I don't hang out at tour busses after concerts. This time though, I knew it was a once in a lifetime chance to shake the hand of someone who really has worked to change the world. Damn, should have worn a blue dress.

Mila

By nature, I'm a pretty self absorbed person. My family and my life occupy my thoughts and my plans. I love my friends fiercly - which is why I have so few of them. You can't go expending that kind of energy on just anyone. This is why I don't bother to watch TV. To paraphrase Erma Bombeck (which I do a lot) I'd prefer to spend more time laughing and crying while watching life. Specifically, my life. Besides being self absorbed, I'm also cynical and jaded. Yes, modesty is one of my better qualities.

Everyone's got a story. Usually a sad one. Unless yours is about abandoning a baby, having been abandoned as a baby, or saving an abandoned baby, I'm probably not listening.

Then someone pointed me to a little girl named Mila. When she was just two she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Now I know more than anyone that it sounds like the beginning of a joke. For one brief moment I let my guard down and I learned more about Mila and her mom, Andi. What I found was a little girl who didn't have much time left and a mother who was carrying the weight of the world just to continue smiling and singing for her little girl. I saw Mila smile and heard her sing - and my heart melted.

On June 18th, just 2 months shy of her 3rd birthday, little Mila passed away. My heart broke into a million little pieces. Normally I'd wonder about someone who was so openly sharing in a stranger's grief. Those tears I shed, and they were quite a few, for this little girl I'd never met were honestly and truly just for her. Not in a "what if it had happened to me" kind of way. I mourned her passing and all the things she'd never do, and I cried for her mother and the heartbreak she was going through.

Friday night I went to a party for my foundation. We talked about all the babies saved and all the lives changed by safe havens. We celebrated those lives, and for once, we didn't talk of all the ones we couldn't save. Someone had given me an envelope, a card I'd received at the foundation's address. I dropped it in my bag and went on with the making merry.

On the way home I opened my bag for gas money and found the card there. I looked at it a minute before opening it, it had no return address and was from AZ. I'm not much for pondering, so I opened it and was surprised to see a thank you card from Andi, Mila's mom. After all she's gone though, this amazing woman is taking the time to write thank yous to all the people she received sympathy, support or donations from. (damn those dangling participles) Now, at the mere mention of Mila's name I usually tear up. When I opened that card, so unexpected, I actually smiled and thought of Mila singing "You are my sunshine" and hoped that Andi was doing well, and that maybe she was smiling, too.