He is the eggman, goo goo goo joob

For the first time in five years, Dallas is now one of the zillions of people in the world who can enjoy an omelet, a fritatta, a custard, or a lovely quiche.  The boy still can't have any dairy, but he is no longer allergic to eggs.

About a month ago, I took Dal in for a check-up with his allergist.  He hadn't been tested for his allergies for a few years as his doctor didn't see the point of putting Dal through unnecessary testing.  However, he did recommend that Dal be re-tested before beginning public school, and like the dutiful momma I am, I took him in.  I was anxious because the first test was a blood test, and children are typically not great when it comes to having someone stick a needle into their arm to draw bodily fluid.  I tried to stay very calm as we walked into the lab, and I promised the boy a trip to Target for a new toy if he could get through the needle stick without struggling or freaking out.  Before the nurse even got to us, I was sweating like I was standing in the Sahara Desert with no umbrella or water.  Turns out I could have saved all of my worry (and a jaunt to Target) because Dallas was fantastic.  He didn't move a muscle when the needle went it, and he even looked at the blood coming out and said, "That is SO awesome."

The blood test surprisingly came out negative for the egg allergy, so we moved on to the next step: the skin test.  The nurse made teeny scratches on Dal's arm and then dropped a bit of various proteins on the scratches to see if he would react to them.  A enormous hive popped up right away on the spot where the cow's milk protein had been placed, so we knew the dairy allergy was sticking around.  But once again, the scratch test was negative for the egg protein.   We quickly ran out that day to get an egg from a local convenience store.  The nurse did a fresh food challenge which involved putting actual egg white and egg yolk onto Dal's skin to see if it would react.  He passed that test with flying colors, and we made an appointment for the next step: the food challenge.  Dun dun DUUUUUUN!

Unfortunately, our first appointment was cancelled due to an emergency with the doctor.  Doh.  We rescheduled and went in yesterday, Friday.  Dallas couldn't have any sort of antihistamine for three days prior to the challenge, and he couldn't eat for two hours prior, either.  The appointment was in the Crown Point office (ugh) at 9:00 AM, so I woke Dal up at 6 that morning to shove some food into his face before it was too late.  (For those of you who know Dallas well, you understand the terror I felt knowing that he couldn't really eat the entire morning.  When he doesn't eat, he's like a combination of Godzilla, Denis Leary, and Bobcat Goldthwait.  It's ugly, really ugly.) The challenge went like this: Dal ate a teeny piece of hard boiled egg, was monitored for twenty minutes, then ate another teeny piece of egg.  Picture that for three and a half hours, and you have the gist of the challenge.  Dal complained that the egg was rubbery, but he willingly sent every piece down the hatch with no protests at all.  By 12:45 PM, we had confirmation that Dallas had outgrown his egg allergy.  Not only was he free to eat eggs, but he has to eat something with egg in it every day for the next two weeks.   Somehow I don't think he's going to be asking me to hard boil any eggs for him the near future, though.  He got his fill of those yesterday.

I made angel food cupcakes for him today, and it was a totally surreal experience to bake with eggs again.  I mean, everything I have made in the last five years has been egg- and dairy-free because I couldn't stand to ever have Dal feel left out of anything.  Separating the eggs for the cupcakes felt wrong, like I still thought I was going to essentially poison the kid by setting the cupcake in front of him.  Understandably, he's a little hesitant to eat anything with egg: we have spent the last five years telling him not to touch eggs and anything with eggs in it, and now we are basically forcing him to eat the incredible, edible egg.  Dallas is a by-the-book kind of kid, so this will take some time for him to get used to.  But in the meantime, I get to rediscover recipes that I have put away for years and try out some new ones as well.  The nurse said that outgrowing this allergy would make my life easier as far as food preparation, and I guess she is right.  Checking labels is no big deal, and cooking without the allergens is truly second nature now.   I'm just happy that a new world of food to explore has opened up to my best boy.

Random doc a go-go

Last week, we headed back to Lexington for a few days.  Trevor had to work, and I had my next blood test to look forward to at the endocrinologist's office.  As I mentioned in a previous blog, my regular doc was out of town, so I was going to be seeing his partner.  I had never met the guy before, and I was worried that he wouldn't take my symptoms seriously.

The nurse drew my blood, and I waited in the packed waiting room for over an hour while the lab was getting my results.  There was not one free seat available, so I never got up once for fear of losing my comfy plastic chair.  I had my Kindle to keep me company, but I think I did a lot more people-watching and eavesdropping than reading.  I'm only human.

As soon as I was called in to see the doc, I could feel my heart start to race.  What if my levels were great and the exhaustion is from something else?  Worse, what if the exhaustion is all in my head?  Fortunately, sort of, my TSH levels were down significantly from my previous reading, but they were still no where near where they should be.  The doctor wants me between a 0.1 and a 0.2: I'm currently at a 22.  I was happy that the levels are dropping but frustrated that they're still so high.  The random doc said he would up my meds - again- and see if we could get the levels down.  I was a little taken aback because everyone who knows anything about thyroid meds is surprised by how much I am taking.  I asked the doc if I was a total freak for needing such a high dose.  After he stopped laughing, he assured me that I was not a freak at all.  Apparently some people metabolize the meds quicker than others, and my body needs what it needs.  Whew.  I'm not a total head case.  Well, not for that.

The doc said he didn't need to see me again for six months, but that doesn't work for me.  I cannot and will not feel like this for six more months.  SIX months?  No way, no how.  I need my energy, I need to not be fat as Jabba the Hut, and I need some relief.  Word.  So I booked an appointment with a doc here in town so I could get the test done sooner.  Plus, even though I really like the practice down there, I don't want to do the six-plus hour drive every two months until this is all fixed.

The doc did an ultrasound while I was there to make certain that there had been no regrowth of my cancer since the surgery.  After making the obligatory "It's a boy!" joke, he said that the ultrasound was clear: no cancer.  Even though I'm still not feeling 100%, I was relieved to hear that I'm still cancer-free.

Take mine, please

Last week, Dallas had his yearly check-up at the allergist's office.  I figured we'd be in and out quickly, but I was wrong.  Shocking.

Lottie, Dallas, and I all trooped in to the exam room and waited for the doctor.  When he came in, Dallas decided that it was a perfect time to lose his mind.  There was crying, falling to the floor, and even some screaming.  This time, it wasn't me!  The poor doctor hadn't even touched Dal, just walked through the door.  I mentally deflated a little then and there because I knew it wasn't going to be an easy visit.  The doctor wanted to do scratch tests to gauge Dally's allergies to dairy and eggs.  No problem, right?  No problem for an adult, but for a not-quite-three-year-old kid in a state of utter despair, it was a problem.  I wrestled off Dally's shirt, and the nurse did the control scratches and the allergy scratches.  Then we waited.  It seemed like we waited a VERY long time, but maybe it just felt like an eternity in that teeny, windowless room.  I plied the kids with treats (M&M's and Skittles) to make the wait a bit easier.  When the nurse came in to check Dallas's welts, she said, to my surprise, that Dally hadn't reacted to the egg scratch.  The doctor returned and said he wanted us to get a blood test to confirm those results.  I assumed it would be a finger prick, and I felt the first stirrings of dread when he sent us to a lab.  I knew that wasn't good news: no need to go to a lab for a finger prick.  So I dragged both kids to another building and into the lab.  Once again, Dallas lost his mind and actually tried to flee the room.  Smart kid.  I filled out paperwork, tried to occupy Lottie, and kept an eye on Dallas to make sure he didn't sneak out.  Multitasking at its best!

Then the really awful part began.  I sat in the chair with Dal on my lap.  I had to wrap my leg around his legs to ensure he didn't kick the woman drawing his blood, and I also had to hold one of his arms down and the other arm out straight so she could find a vein.  He about jumped out of his skin when the woman wrapped the tourniquet around his arm, and I could feel myself starting to shake and tear up.  I knew Dallas wouldn't see how upset I was, but I had to hold it together for Lottie.  She was watching all of it with her big blue eyes, and I didn't want to scare her.  The first time the woman got the needle in, Dallas moved too much, and she had to take it out.  Then she tapped his other arm and I held him as tightly as I could.  Meanwhile, I was also sweating like a pig out of stress and the fact that it was a BILLION degrees in that stupid room.  It was the worst feeling to hold my son and know that someone was hurting him.  I couldn't even look at his face to smile at him or reassure him.  I just kept whispering in his ear that it would be over soon, but I doubt he could hear me over the wailing.  When it was all finally over, he stopped crying immediately.  He picked out a yellow crayon bandage and immediately said, "Can we get out of here now?"  Yes, buddy.  Right now.  He fell asleep in the car - lots of trauma for one day - and continued to nap on the couch once we got home.

That night when Trevor came home, Lottie told him all about the afternoon and promptly burst into tears.  I ran in to see what was wrong, and she sobbed, "I was so scared."  My heart fell out of my chest.  She hadn't seemed scared at the time, but I was so focused on Dallas that maybe I hadn't noticed.  Score one for Worst Mommy Ever.  I held her for a while and let her cry, and I apologized for not realizing how scared she had really been.  Later, as I was putting Dallas to bed, he said, "I'm sorry I was scared about the blood, Mommy."  Again, heart falling out of chest.  I hugged him and told him that he hadn't done anything wrong.  I told him he was a brave boy and I was proud of him.

The whole time we were in the lab, I knew it was awful.  I knew Dallas was in pain, and I knew it couldn't be good for Lottie to watch all of it.  But what I didn't tell the kids about my experience in the lab was that the entire time, I was silently thanking whatever higher power gave me healthy kids. The food allergies are Dallas's biggest health problem, and Lottie had her tonsils out.  That's it.  I don't have to spend a lot of time at doctors' offices or labs or hospitals, and for that, I'm grateful.  Even though it was a harrowing afternoon for the kids, I know it could be worse.  We're lucky.  We're so incredibly lucky.