Bugging Out

Despite my intense frustrations, our house extermination has been pushed back. When I learned that we will be living with the little buggers for another few days, I wanted to cry. The bearer of bad news offered little concern for our plight and simply told me to "try to ignore the fact that you are living with bugs." Seriously? How am I supposed to just pretend that everything is normal when I'm living out of giant zip lock bags, dealing with painful bites and welts all the while knowing that the little critters are waiting in line to chomp at the all-you-can-suck blood buffet.

Of course, the Prednisone isn't helping my mood. I find myself snapping a lot more and demonstrating considerably less patience than my norm.  Yesterday I had to walk away from my computer several times to stop myself from sending a snarky email. It's not that I'm feeling confrontational.  I just think that my threshold for playing games is lower than usual.

The delay in extermination means that Robby is home another day from school.  (I can't send him to school if we suspect that we are infested with bed bugs.) We also have been cautioned against staying in a hotel to escape our infestation because we will only spread the problem to other people. So, we're stuck in the house until our exterminators get us back on schedule for baking the little buggers out of our lives for good.  In the meantime, I'm going to take a deep breath, eat a cupcake and try to remember that soon this will all be a memory. 

Bug Invasion

Early Friday morning I had a dream where I was scratching my skin with a Brillo pad. I vividly remember frantically rubbing the pad all over my arms, trying to find relief for a persistent itch. I woke up to find that the sheets were bloodied and my arms were covered with hundreds of red bumps and welts.

Initially I thought that I had contracted poison ivy when I was in the woods with Timmy earlier in the week. Knowing that the doctor could both give me a shot and prescribe medicine to hasten my healing, I packed up the boys and headed to my doctor.  (His practice recently began opening up at 8 AM for unscheduled sick visits.)  With Timmy and Robby in tow I was hoping for a quick appointment with substantial itch and pain relief. 

It turns out that my self diagnosis was incorrect, and that I was not suffering from poison ivy. Instead, bed bugs had eaten me alive. Judging from the amount of bite marks, it is believed that I had at least 200 of the little critters feeding all over my legs, arms and neck.  Each bug feeds up to three times on the host (me), causing at least 600 bite marks all over my body with each one swelling to the size of a nickle.  The fact that I had at least 200 bugs crawling all over my body while I was sleeping is beyond comprehension.  I left the office with two prescriptions to help relieve the itch and pain along with the sage advice of calling an exterminator.

The bites on my arms are painful and sore, but the most concerning are those on my residual limb. Wearing my leg has become extraordinarily painful because of the large welts. I cannot lather my limb in anti-itch cream because it makes my liner slide off. I honestly don't have the words to adequately convey the pain and discomfort that I am feeling because of my 600+ bite marks. I just want to curl up in a corner and cry, but I now worry that we might have more bugs in the house and I don't want to risk further exposure.

We do not have a clutter-free home, but we are certainly not filthy or unkept. We know where I encountered the bugs, but that will be the topic for another blog. (I'm not a litigious person by nature, but the contamination was so blatantly negligent that I am considering bringing legal action to recoup the cost of our extermination fees.)  In the meantime, it is safe to assume that the little invaders latched onto me and it is prudent to assume that they are now in our house. 

We spent the weekend chemically bombing our house, doing laundry and packing packing all of our super heated clothes into large sealed bags. I have been feeling sick since playing host to the bug buffet, but my need to rid our home of these invaders was enough to push me beyond my own pain thresholds. (I have found that hopping into a cold bath provides the most relief, especially on my residual limb. In between loads of laundry and setting off chemical bombs, I have been hopping in and out of the tub.)

Yesterday the exterminator came to do an inspection, and he was not able to visually identify any bugs. Of course, I had sprayed so many chemicals that it is suspected that the bugs retreated into the walls. We are having a bug sniffing dog come out today to confirm that the bugs traveled home with us.

If the bed bugs are confirmed by the dog, it has been decided that we are going to bake the buggers out of the house. Using heat extermination is not only more effective, but it is safer. Timmy is recovering from his pneumonia, and I want to keep the chemical exposure to a minimum. ( Although we left the house for the requisite two hours, Timmy was definitely coughing more when we were in our chemically covered house. Witnessing his response was enough to sell us on heat extermination.) 

In the next few days the exterminators will bring in large heaters and fans. The ambient temperature within our home will be heated to at least 125 degrees and held at that level for at least 5 hours. The bed bugs will experience death while being cooked alive. Considering the agony that they have caused me, I think that this is a fitting end to their unwelcome intrusion.

A blessing throughout this experience has been that, at this juncture, I am the only who has been bitten. I am thankful that the little buggers opted to feed on me instead of Timmy, who was sleeping within arms reach. Of course, I have read that the bite marks can manifest themselves up to 14 days after the feeding, so we are not yet in the clear. 

Breathing Easier

Yesterday was spent nursing Timmy back to health. Slowly but surely our little guy is starting to recover; it just isn't happening fast enough for me. His O2 stats rose from 83 on Wednesday to 88 yesterday afternoon. I'm hoping that he will be out of the "danger zone" by scoring in the 90's today. Until his O2 levels have normalized, I'm going to continue worrying.

 Because Timmy has been so ill, I don't think that we are going to embark on any great adventures this weekend. Robby is testing for a new Taekwondo belt tonight and we were planning on having a family dinner at the hibachi steakhouse afterwards. Now those plans went out the window because one of us has to stay with little Hamlet. Thank goodness for Skype. Even though I won't be able to be at the studio, I'll be able to watch the belting ceremony in real time. Robby will have to settle for pizza and cupcakes at home instead of dinner out, but such is life.

On Saturday we were planning on attending the family picnic for his taeknowndo studio, but again we will have to divide and conquer. I'll make the cookies and stay with Timmy while Scott will take Robby to the picnic. Barring rain, I'm sure that they will have a good time. Hopefully Timmy will be feeling better and more energetic by then, because I sure do miss my happy little Hamlet!

Hot Hamlet

I knew that my little Timmy was sick as soon as I lifted him out of his crib yesterday morning. He was hot to touch and shivering while he was covered in sweat. Scott and I immediately decided that we were going to call the doctor as soon as the office opened. My poor little Hamlet has been through the medical ringer lately, and the high fever was extremely worrisome.

It was determined a few days ago that his hives are caused by an over reactive immune response. In order to treat the most recent outbreak which reared its spotted head while we were at Jellystone over the weekend, he was prescribed a high dose steroid treatment.  We were cautioned to keep him quasi-secluded during the treatment because his immune system will be compromised.  His being on immunosuppressant medication coupled with a high fever, I was frantic with worry. 

The doctor agreed to see him, but I was cautioned that we were going to have to wait because she was booked solid. I packed my sweaty, weak little boy into his car seat and headed to the office. I was fully prepared to sit there all day. During the triage intake it was discovered that his O2 stats were low. After verifying the result with three separate machines, Timmy's visit was fast tracked to the doctor.  We were seen within minutes of his intake.

It turns out that my little guy has pneumonia in both lungs and strep throat. (He never does do anything halfway!) It is hard seeing him so sick, and while we are still worried, it is comforting to have a diagnosis and treatment plan. Hopefully his fever will break soon and my happy little Hamlet will return.  In the meantime, today will be filled with coaxing him to drink water while snuggling in front of the television to watch endless episodes of Zack and Quack.

Twisted Fail

Monday afternoon I was trying to wrangle Timmy into the car and, when he wasn't going willingly, I was forced to pick him up. While juggling my car keys, cell phone and a planking toddler, I tried to meander through the yard to the driveway. I stepped into a divot and instantly knew I was going to fall.  Somehow I managed to put Timmy upright on the ground before fully losing my balance.

While I laid on the ground in pain as I was frantically trying to access the situation, Timmy took the opportunity to run around the yard. He gleefully tried to hug the large inflatable pumpkin, through a few sticks into the woods and waved to the airplanes as the flew overhead. When I saw him grab a baseball bat from the corner of the porch before barreling towards me, I realized that it was time to start moving. In that moment, I was fairly certain that the pain I was experiencing was only going to intensify if he reached me with the bat. 

I am lucky that I didn't break anything when I fell. I tweaked my knee, but I think after a few days I'll be okay. In the meantime I'm trying to be cautious and not to overdo it. When I twist or bend suddenly I am reminded of my tumble, so I am trying to be as still as Timmy will allow. 

I hate falling. The experience always reminds me of my own vulnerability. While intellectually I know that even my able-bodied friends would have lost their balance if they stepped into the hole, I can't help but feel susceptible to falling. I hate feeling weak!

Prosthetic Parity

I am a creature of habit, especially in the morning. Each morning I make a cup of coffee, sit down on my loveseat and log onto my computer to check my email. I have come to enjoy my morning email fetch, primarily because I never know what to expect.  While most of the time my inbox is filled with advertisements and assorted cyber junk, on occasion I open a message which turns into a wonderful opportunity or adventure. Yesterday morning I opened one of these messages.

It turns out that the website The Mighty had decided to publish an article I wrote explaining the obstacles faced by the limb loss community because of insurance limitations. I was delighted for the opportunity to educate the general public about issues surrounding prosthetic parity. Because of the blatant absurdity of tenants such as "one limb per lifetime," I truly believe that change is within reach. But in order to force our elected officials to act on Federal Parity legislation, we need to rally not only the limb loss community but also our able-bodied peers. By embracing and creating opportunities to talk about insurance fairness, and through sharing real-life stories of individuals whose potential is limited by their insurance more than their limb loss, we will continue to make inroads towards effecting change.

Please read the article I authored, and take the opportunity on the website to click the heart button. I know that "hearts" and "shares" are actively tracked when evaluating the success of a topic on the website. I want to send a clear and strong message that ProstheticParity is an issue that deserves attention.

Jellystone Fun!

This past weekend we packed up the cars, picked up Robby from school and began to drive south.  Nearly three hours later we arrived at Jellystone Natural Bridge for a weekend getaway. With a cabin directly adjacent to the fishing pond and an activity list heavy with Halloween festivities (including trick-or-treating), I knew that everybody was going to have a blast.  Because of the unseasonably warm weather, we were delighted to discover that the pools and splash zone were still open. Robby and Timmy could hardly wait to get changed into their swimming gear when we arrived. 

Timmy, entranced by the splash zone, never made it to the pool. He was content running through the water fixtures and sliding down the pint sized water slide.  Robby opted to split his time between the regular pool, the corkscrew water slides and the splash zone. The weather was perfect allowing us to thoroughly enjoy our time. 

Our weekend would have been perfect had it not been for an unexpected case of Timmy hives. He woke up on Saturday with a few pin prick spots on his cheeks.  As the day progressed, the spots spread and deepened in both size and color.  By the end of the day he was almost completely covered and, although he didn't seem bothered by the outbreak, other parents were starting to pull their children away from him. It broke my heart, but yet I understood the instinct to protect your own child. 

Despite the hives and the worry that both Scott and I felt, the boys were able to participate in most of the campground activities.  Timmy decorated a pumpkin while Robby tackled painting a ceramic shark.  We made a tie-dye shirt and entered the costume contest.  In the evening I opted to keep Timmy cool and quiet in the cabin while Robby and Scott went trick-or-treating around the campground.  The pair dropped off a full bucket of candy before heading to the "Monster Mash Dance Party." 

Sitting in the cabin with my little hive-covered Timmy sleeping, my mind began to worry. In the midst of a growing panic attack, Scott sent me a video of Robby dancing. Immediately I was transported from my woeful "I wonder if" mentality to the present, which made me smile.  My little Koopa has, unfortunately, inherited my dancing abilities. He has also inherited my enthusiasm. I'm not sure where he developed his confidence, but it was fully on display during the dance. 

Sunday we woke up to discover Timmy's hives were improving. We went to breakfast and headed to the playground.  Timmy took a detour and ran straight into the splash zone.  He apparently missed the memo that the temperatures had drastically cooled overnight. He seemed perfectly content splashing in the cool air first thing in the morning. I just love watching him play!  Despite the hives, he is a happy little boy.