Archive for November, 2009

Joel asked me the following question this past Monday:

“Our son is getting over the flu (type A) and is on the mend quite nicely. So now that we’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel: What are the chances of him getting the flu again this winter?
Our twins arrive in January/February 2010 and I’m beginning to think, while annoying, this is a complete blessing in disguise for our family because now we’ve all been exposed to it.”

Here is my honest and professional opinion:

The flu “season” is pretty much OVER once the weather turns uber-cold. Viruses go dormant or die in the cold. Also, Julie will impart a powerful immunity at birth. New babies are usually the best protected. Make sure they get to eat some dirt and actually experience illness from other kids. Don’t slather them with antiseptics, but wash off excess dirt (primarily because it looks nasty). Don’t sterilize pacifiers – just remove any cat hairs or “goop” they might pick up when they’re dropped.

The flu “season” is pretty much OVER once the weather turns uber-cold. Viruses go dormant or die in the cold. Also, Julie will impart a powerful immunity at birth. New babies are usually the best protected. Make sure they get to eat some dirt and actually experience illness from other kids. Don’t slather them with antiseptics, but wash off excess dirt (primarily because it looks nasty). Don’t sterilize pacifiers – just remove any cat hairs or “goop” they might pick up when they’re dropped.

In the “old” days – back before doctors believed they knew everything about health – we were regularly exposed to all sorts of germs (that’s a generic term that includes, bacteria, fungi, viruses, and any other parasite who might want to make us ill). Through the process of natural selection (survival of the most fit), each of us developed antibodies that protect us when a foreign invader tries to visit. Most of us have become obsessed with sanitary products and do way too much to keep things clean.

If you look at the statistics for this current flu debacle you’ll notice that the people born before 1950 were are no particular risk – AT ALL. Since that time efforts have been steadily increasing to remove GERMS from the environment. The consequences? Younger people are more likely to get sick. The older folks have natural immunities and immune systems that act promptly to fend off potential invaders.

Pat and I saw through the idiocy long ago and we didn’t do much in the way of overt sanitizing. Our kids weren’t filthy, but we sure didn’t waste our time sterilizing everything and anything. The invention and use of hand sanitizers and antimicrobial soaps has done a lot to weaken all of our immune systems. The GERMS respond to weakness – when an immune system is less than efficient, the bugs are effective at wearing down an immune system. They don’t have to work as hard to take us down because we’re already compromised. Again, survival of the most fit – the GERMS survive and thrive UNLESS we things to stop them. The most effective measure is NOT sanitizing, but in allowing the body to develop its immune system.

Surviving any illness is a blessing. First, the “patient” feels better once the bugs have been defeated. Second, the next time the buggies make a visit the human host is stronger. Strong immune systems can remove a toxic bug from the environment. Eat well (organic). Sleep enough. Exercise. Take probiotics. Drink clean water. Avoid commercial red meat. Take Cod Liver Oil. Use vitamins and mineral supplements. Avoid all drugs (including vaccines). Interact with other people – even if they seem ill. Its good for you.

Larry J. Frieders, RPh
larry@thecompounder.com

The Compounder/Techni Med, Inc.
340 Marshall Ave #100
Aurora, IL 60506 – ph.630.859.0333

http://www.thecompounder.com

Living around Chicago, there are a number of steady facets of life one must accept as the way it is. The following are just a few of the many traits Chicagoland has to offer:

• The entire state road system is constantly under construction, there is no denying the fact that you will be detouring at one point daily.
• The Chicago Cubs, while being my team since I was a fetus, suck.
• You will use your heat and A/C in the same day more than 7 times a year.
• Humidity here can rival Louisiana.
• People from Wisconsin are everywhere. You must either accept them, or ignore them. We ignore them.
• Chicago is the most beautiful city on the planet. I’ve been a lot of places and nothing rivals our skyline or atmosphere.
• Our elected officials can illegally squeeze a nickel out of a peanut.
• We take our sports, and losing, and rarely winning, very seriously.
• Ditka is king, no exceptions.

photo credit: Wallula Junction

I taught my son this valuable lesson very early, and I thought it was important enough, while off the subject of having twins, to document here on our website.

If the embedded player does not work, please click the link below. StupidYouTubes.

My Son, Talking Ditka (YouTube Link)

If there is ever a time in your life where you aren’t sure what direction you should be heading, take the road that Ditka would travel.

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Thursday afternoon I received a call at the pharmacy that my son had a bit of a fever.

He has had a slight cough that progressed from dry a week ago to a little bit wet in the coming days, but that was it, and it’s pretty normal for me during the summer to autumn change to get that dry cough at night before bed.

So I picked him up an hour later and took him home for some Elmo, fluids and some TLC. Despite a random power outage, the evening was uneventful.

Later on that night we went into his room to get a temp reading and noticed he was at 102. So we called the doctor who instructed us to alternate from tylenol to motrin every three hours to control fever and pain, keep pushing fluids and to make an appointment tomorrow.

Friday morning I woke up knowing the day would suck, as my college roommate and I share a birthday and Friday night was our 30th birthday dinner at Ditka’s in Oak Brook. Ditka’s. Ditka’s. Ditka’s. (In Chicagoland you must say his name 4 times out of respect for his holy name) So yeah, I cancelled the dinner, apologized for the inconvenience and went back to watching Elmo with the lil’ dude and had a work conference call in the meantime.

Julie had called and told me she made an appointment with a doctor for 2pm, so as lil’ dude napped and I was showering I heard the garage door opening. For my birthday present, Julie moved some meetings and took a half day to help me take lil’ dude to the Dr’s office. What a sweetheart, then again she would be staying in the car to avoid the “sickmosphere”, but still, I appreciated the gesture.

Long story short: The doctor didn’t have time or patience to answer my questions. He heard the first two words out of my mouth, which were “fever” and “cough” and whipped out a swab and shoved it up my kid’s nose without warning. My son didn’t like this guy at all and gave him a shit-fit when he went in unannounced, which I tipped him 3 dollars in the pigskin piggy bank for later (good work son).

Word to those wanting to be doctors, even if it takes an extra 30 seconds out of your visit, make a connection with the kid you’re going to be prodding, if you don’t you’ll piss off the kid AND the parents. A simple “hello” directly to the kid makes a world of difference.

He left the room as I was still asking questions and said over me “The swab takes ten minutes.” So, any parent who has ever sat in a doctor’s office exam room for any amount of time realizes those rooms are gross. I didn’t want lil’ dude climbing or eating anything so I built up a sweat calming him down and keeping him from breaking things while he had a complete meltdown. Legs kicking, wailing like a banshee, tossing his head into my chin like a classically trained MMA fighter, etc.

Twenty minutes later the nurse comes in and says that he was “positive for A” and that the doctor would be in in a minute to talk. So the doctor comes in ten minutes later and tells me, flat out “He has the swine.” I cock my head and it’s like a judo-kick to the face. “Really?”

“I’m sending a prescription for Tamiflu to your local pharmacy, give that to him and he’ll be fine in a few days.” Says mister important doctor.

“What is the alternative to the Tamiflu? I’ve heard nothing but grief from the parents who dealt with a kid on Tamiflu.” I retort.

“You could do NOTHING. If that is your choice, but, um, I would advise it, he’s pretty sick.” Says mister important doctor.

Using that type of language towards a parent is confrontational in my opinion. Suggesting that by asking about an alternative that I would do NOTHING to help heal my child of the flu is fucking offensive, and I fucking take offense to that, fucker.

Mister important doctor makes the stand-up/follow-me motion with his hands and leads us out of the room and says to have a nice day. Meanwhile, I’m still re-asking the questions I was ignored on the first time through and I’m already in the hallway being booted from his divine presence.

I get back to the van where Julie is studying and tell her what the doctor told me, thinking he would know the difference between A and swine flu, I didn’t mention the nurse’s comment that he was positive for A. She gasps and we both immediately call our respective backups when we can’t fully comprehend things, she calls her pharmacist sister, I call my compounding pharmacist father.

My dad knows what a white coat can do to a person’s judgement but understands that when you have kids your doubtful judgement of all doctors takes a back seat to “whatever is best for my kids” so he doesn’t press the issue that going to the doctor was probably not in our best interests. But he tells me that because we’ve made the effort and now things are documented that our son has “a flu, whichever it actually is” we have to follow their instructions or risk the consequences. That all makes sense, but how do you treat a flu if not with Tamiflu? “Time, kleenex, water and soap.”

Julie’s sister is appalled that our son was diagnosed as a swine flu carrier with just a swab. The doctor we saw must have a microscope in his glasses to determine a swine flu case over Influenza A without a blood test. What he told me was just not true. There is always a potential for it to be swine, but to intentionally tell a parent that is FEAR MONGERING. She tells Julie that our son is positive for A, but you simply cannot confirm a flu case is indeed H1N1 without lab tests. Not only that, but those lab tests don’t really prove anything since the flu is still the flu!

So you can probably guess how the rest of the weekend and today have been, Julie stays 6 feet away from our kid at all times and I get to deal with this complete feeling of isolation from the entire world, on my birthday!

We cancelled my party and instead had take out ribs after lil’ dude went to bed on Saturday, and then watched Revolutionary Road. The ribs were great but HOLY SHIT, that movie was complete garbage.  But hey, at least it wasn’t Elmo.

I’ve watched Elmo in Grouchland 11 times and 23 different episodes of Sesame Street since Thursday afternoon, I’m about at the end of my Elmorope. I now liken his voice to that of my 6th grade teacher who rather than saying “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…” she would say “Mundee, Toosdee, Wensdee…” – I want to strangle Elmo.

Please divine architect, make my kid feel better and be symptom free so that I may return to the land of adults and humans who speak about things other than numbers and the alphabet.

BEFORE I GO CRAZY!

Oh, and today’s word on the street? “MENTALBREAKDOWN!”

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So Tuesday’s appointments were aight. Freal. They be straight up gangsta like the rest of em. Nothing out of the ordinary or particulary shocking. No prodding by doctors without asking my permission. Nobody offered me any taffy.

WAIT. YES THEY DID.

Rita at Safekeeping: High Risk OB at the lovely and spacious Delnor Community Hospital offered me a piece of taffy which was orange in color, yet tasted like black licorice. Had I known her longer or had she been looking at MY vagina all those times maybe I could’ve told her, but I HATE BLACK LICORICE. Rita is now on my “scowl upon seeing” list that now has 4 members. All three of those members are either on the Chicago Cubs or are part of the management of the Chicago Cubs. So Rita holds some pretty shady company.

BUT, yes, we had the 25 week growth scan and saw the twinsies rockin’ and rollin’ all ’round the ute. Everything is right where it should be and the kids are growing nicely.
Leah is an amazing 1lb 13oz.
Mason is a svelte 1lb 110z.

Mason can already be heard saying things like:

• “You sure you wanna’ eat that Leah? That might add on another ounce or three. Imjussayin.”
• “Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just water weight, or my liquid feces.”
• “You want me to eat half of that? No? Figures.”
• “Damn, I am getting RIPPED doin’ these spine pull ups! What are yo- Oh, eating?”
• “Leah I don’t think you’re fat. What? No, no one said anything, I just want you to know that I do not think that you are a fatty. Fatty.”
• “Hey, you go first out the chute over there so there’s plenty of room for me to drop out. K?”
• “Can a fetus get some frickin’ room? Huh? JEEZE MA NEEZE!”

As you can read, my son is already the picture of sarcasm, humor and what I refer to as “shit wit” – meaning, you give people shitty witty banter in exchange for rude looks, kidney jabs and the occasional back of the head slap.

While peekin’ around inside the womb hotel we got a few pictures. And when I say pictures I mean actual frickin’ “this is what my daughter looks like” pictures.

We learned that if there is a great profile shot and at least a few centimeters of fluid between the profile and the sac wall, you can hit this magic button on the machine and you get a frickin 3D image. I mean, we got one with our son when he was around this age, but holy CRAP this is unreal.

I never thought I’d say this, but: “Son? Your sister is cuter than you are. In the womb.”

CUTE!

And well, Mason wasn’t having all the bright lights and paparazzi, so he remained face down towards Julie’s spine, which is quite the spine I must say. We couldn’t get an accurate face shot, but I can assure you the following image will someday make the Yorkville chief of police furious as it will be driving by at 30 miles an hour out the window of a passing Ford Fusion.

MOOOON!

Yes, my unborn son just mooned the crap out of you. TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!

As you can see, the censorship board got ahold of the image.

My kids are adorable, even if I can only judge one of their looks by the shape of their chunky little old man ass cheeks.

Hey sports fans & all you creeps interested in my wife’s cervical length!
Yes, I called you creeps! Are you offended? Offended enough to send me 5 dollars cash to apologize? I DIDN’T THINK SO!

Back to our Cervix Length Update ladies & gentlemen!

Yesterday, November 3rd, 2009, Julie was measured at a whopping 5.0cm!

What does that mean? Well, it means that all of the communication that I have had with her nether regions are actually paying off! The time and energy I have devoted to speaking directly into the birth canal have made the impossible happen!

YES! The cervix seems to be GROWING! Yes, the doctors all say that is indeed impossible, but fuck them! They have no idea of the power of positive thinking and one on one discussions with a vagina!

These “Conversations With A Crotch” will soon be a part of a nationwide movement for all husbands of ‘preggo with multiples’ broads to get down at eye level with the baby-spewing-hole of their loved one and repeat the following poem in a Danish accent:

There once was a cervix named Flo, it’s loved ones urged her to grow.

When she was given the powers that be, she took over rank of the va-jay-jay and was soon in charge of the power to pee!

Shine on you crazy cervix, for you hold the everlasting power of birth, remain in your strength and length to keep my kids up in there, not yet on this earth.

Until the doctor says those magic words, dear cervix named Flo, I will give you the attention you deserve.

Yes, I know. I have serious problems, but what would you do when the only thing holding your kids in their mom-cubator is a tiny few centimeters?

Me?

I take my role as a supportive father very seriously and will do anything to ensure a safe arrival to their destination.

And yes, that includes reciting ridiculous poems to my wife’s crotch hole.

fin.

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