Genetics you don’t thank your ancestors for

Looks like it’s going to be surgery for this girl. If we get this fixed now, she can avoid more damage and possible kidney failure later.

The reflux test is really awful. Zenny endured it while we bent over her and coached her breathing, but it was hard to see her so scared.

Her doctor gave her a stuffed toy based on the real support dog that roams around the hospital, and she hasn’t put it down yet.

She’s so little. I love her so much, and it’s rough seeing her go through this. She’ll be okay, though. 

Edited to add background, in case other parents find themselves with similar situations: 

When she was in kindergarten she complained of intermittent side pain, so we brought it up with her pediatrician. There were no other symptoms to go on and it only seemed to be after school, so we thought it might be digestive. We took school chocolate milk out of her diet and it seemed to help.

Later that year she had a UTI and her doctor explained the reflux test, but it’s a traumatic procedure for a little kid and most kids grow out of bladder valve problems by the time they’re 6 anyway, so he didn’t want to jump to that.

Her recent kidney infection prompted her doctor to refer us to the pediatric urology department at the children’s hospital. Ultrasound showed scarring on her kidney that appeared to be from more than just the recent infection, so the reflux test was necessary. 

Reflux test showed that her valves are not working at all, they’re backflowing all the way up to her kidneys, and she won’t grow out of it, thanks to a genetic defect my grandmother had. 

There are two surgery options; one is an out-patient quick fix with a lower success rate and no longevity studies, the other is a two-day stay in the hospital with a 98% success rate. I don’t want her kidneys failing her in pregnancy or when she’s 60, so we’re looking at the better quality fix.

I’m feeling heaps of mom-guilt that we didn’t catch this before she had damage to her kidney, but we have been bringing everything up with her doctor since the beginning, so I don’t know what else I could have done. At least in today’s medical world she can have it fixed instead of suffering with it all her life like my grandmother did.

Poor kid.

a week of bad news

One of my “we’ve known each other since livejournal” friends killed herself on Wednesday. I'm kind of mad at her right now. Feeling guilt that I didn't meet up with her in Portland a few years ago. She was so beautiful and chaotic and self-destructive, and I just wanted to paint and eat sandwiches. Anjika, you should have stuck around and taken up a dangerous hobby or something, goddamn it.

Zenny flunked her kidney ultrasound and the next diagnostic test is uncomfortably invasive. I’m taking off on Tuesday to bring her to the children’s hospital. She understands in a general way what is going to happen, and she's trying to be brave about it, but she’s only 8. I hate this. She has been promised a horseback ride when she’s feeling better, because she should have a big good thing to eclipse the bad thing in her childhood memories.

And then there was the text saying a friend is dealing with cancer.

It has been a good week for sitting alone at a door, at least.

Here's a double hibiscus and the scary bee man someone propped up near the honey stand.

photo by Leif 

We keep expecting it to turn its head as we drive by.

Snakes and mittens

My days have shrunk to a pair of library doors again, with my boss popping his head around the corner periodically to make sure I’m not doing anything interesting. I’ve had one earbud in, absorbing an unhealthy amount of murder podcasts between patrons. So far nobody has hit me, but I fell asleep with my face flat on my desk during lunch, which seems to be my response to stress this past year - the hamster defense.

Working on some book cover illustrations.

Made a miscalculation with my needle size and the mittens turned out kid-sized again. Zenny says they’re great, except for the skulls.

Deathflake mittens

A couple days ago, one of our patrons asked if the staff liked star fruit, and I was dumb enough to say yes, so she showed up with about 10lbs of fruit that my coworkers wouldn’t eat. I could only get half of them into my jelly pot (the fruit, not my coworkers), and now there is a big box of leftover star fruit sitting in the middle of the dining room floor.

Help

I have some vague memory of star fruit being a little bit poisonous, but I am not going to look it up because I have to eat about a hundred of them. We will assume that boiling star fruit into jelly neutralizes the toxins.

Edited to add: and of course I looked it up. These little kidney murderers are going out by the mailbox with a FREE sign propped next to them.

I’m keeping the jelly, though. 

Back a step

Starting Monday, I’m back at the library’s front door. The governor has mandated vaccination cards or negative test results along with a photo ID in order to enter businesses and state offices for everyone over the age of 12. I am trying to be a good sport, but I am not a bouncer, and last year when they stuck me at the door for 6 months I was just about to lose my damn mind.

But until I figure out another way to pay the mortgage and feed my kids, I will stand there and work out friendly phrases and jokes to make the process easier and to stop people from punching me in the face. I talked someone down from a mask meltdown yesterday by making a joke about bras. I am either going to get promoted or fired at this rate. At least my nose will be on straight.

Feeling stressed. Painting another lucky cat.

broken glass and art collecting

Everyone has recovered. The only casualty of the week was our front door, which Zenny shattered while chasing Leif through the house. And then the cats escaped out the hole in the door. Billy got himself completely covered in sticker weeds and hid under a lawn chair, and Droopy chased the chickens four times around the house before we got them back inside and latched the screen door.

don't worry, the cats made a run for it after the glass was removed - we’re not trying to reenact the final scene of Ghost over here

So the kids get to learn about repairing doors and herding cats this week. Logical consequences.

Bought a painting, using the money I would have spent on a painting workshop. This guy is a 20-something artist I’m friendly with on Instagram, and I wanted to support him in his first show because he’s kind and talented. And I just really like the painting.

 

“The Rise” by Paul Bhajjan (@p.bhajjan)

Finished another lucky cat, drew the next one (this is going to be a set of 5).

Getting a little tired of painting ceramic cats.

Pottery has been painful. A few crumbs of hard clay got into the soft clay, and at high speed they turned into tiny razor sharp shards that ended up embedded in the meat of my hands. I made a couple nice mugs anyway, so it was worth a bit of tweezering. I’m going to paint something with sharp teeth onto the finished cups, because they bit me.

Still feeling kind of sad, and worn out with being a cheerful front-desk public service employee while everyone is crabby and mean. At least it's pie-baking season again.

Covid

My aunt tested positive on Friday (college faculty) and she’s very sick. My mother tested positive yesterday (public school teacher) and she’s medium sick. Now Leif has started coughing. We have tests scheduled for today. The only one of us who isn’t vaccinated is Zenny, and she’s got a kidney issue that could complicate things. She seems okay so far, but there were 10 cases in her elementary school in the past 2 weeks.

So that’s not going so well.

Backlog of making stuff:

I’m still painting lucky cats for a gallery show in November.

In progress

Finished the painting of the not-dead-in-the-photo cat for Salvo.

Been glazing mythological animals onto pottery.

Top is finished; bottom two are glazed and ready to fire

And I’m working on mittens for my boy. Again. I’m just going to send him a box stuffed completely full of knitted stuff.

Fingers crossed for everyone’s lungs this week.

 

update: young cousin has tested positive. Our tests have come back negative. Waiting on Leif's test.

Home

I was okay with saying goodbye. I was okay with the airline accidentally deleting our tickets. I was okay running across the Philadelphia airport and getting crammed into toilet aisle seats at the last possible second. When our ride forgot us and we sat at the Honolulu curb until midnight, I was okay. The next day we had a houseful of guests and 4 kids banging on the piano, and was I okay? I was.

But today I got into the car to drive to my mom’s with a bag of Trader Joe’s candy and RIT swag, and as soon as I was not surrounded by guests or children or strangers, everything caught up with me and I suddenly started crying. Stopped at a long red light and sobbed into the steering wheel.

I’m missing my boy. This swift and fleeting life, damn.

Last Day

Emptied the travel budget in the school bookstore. Fucking textbooks. Thank goodness for his Military History professor, who did not assign a book. Why are computer engineer majors required to take military history? They are the ones who make systems for guided missiles. I’ve been breaking out into song ever since learning this. “GUIDED MIIIIISSIIILES.” I’m four days short of sleep and running on decaf, this is my time to shine as an embarrassing parent. (Gavin is interested in autonomous cars, not missiles, and has strict instructions to thwart the rise of the murder robots if given the chance.)

I did not want my child to face his first winter without waterproof, insulated boots. We finally found out-of-season footwear in the dead animal emporium; the hunting and fishing store. Now he has sub-zero footwear that is also resistant to blood-born pathogens, perfect for wading in snow and the blood of your enemies.

I was going to claim this massive store as my post-apocalyptic bunker, until I realized I’d have to share it with these guys, along with about two dozen stuffed wolves. That is a lot of bodies to hold funeral services for while also surviving an apocalypse.

Survival boots! With teenage stink protection!

$500 worth of textbooks that don’t even come with covers, just pages with binder holes

After sending him off to orientation, we drove into downtown Rochester to find a proper brewery with Salvo, and the Rohrbach nailed it. They even have a view of the armory from the parking lot, which is an actual castle. An actual castle which is now screening Gojira. Armories are not as well armed as they used to be, I guess.

Love

Old people who spent an hour drinking and trash talking college loans and 90s cartoons

That vanilla porter

Castle of LIES

The boy is settled in, parents have been chased off campus, and it’s time to go home. He’s been texting me memes to soften the transition. Salvo headed back to Toronto, and we feel good that Gavin has an adult within driving distance in case of an emergency.

Heading back over the continent and the ocean. 

Day 3: move in

The campus is a mile long, surrounded by forest paths and filled with little circular courtyards and spiky sculptures to disorient you. My legs have fallen off. It’s a good thing my kid is going to be engineering microcircuitry so he can design my new antilock autonomous self-guided legs.

Move-in was basically us setting up his room while he set up his computer. I hope his roommate doesn’t need to sleep in darkness.

With a few hours to kill in the afternoon, we drove into downtown Rochester to visit the famous Genesee Brew House next to the falls. The view was beautiful. The beer was of a quality one rarely experiences in a brewery — a gas station, maybe. A late night run to a grocery store with $6 in your pocket. Hardly ever a brewery. It was almost enough to make us buy a Genesee beer glass just to serve sad batches of homebrew in. 

Instagram 

My panorama skills are not amazing 

Downtown Rochester. I want to go into those holes in the cliffs and meet some goblins 

It looks good, anyway. Hire a new zymurgist, Genesee

Salvo (one of our oldest friends and Gavin’s unofficial godfather) drove all the way down from Toronto only to get dragged on a terrible sweaty hike around campus while we looked for the orientation groups. We ditched Gavin for his icebreakers and hung out at the hotel to catch up on ten years of stories.

Salvo and Gavin in 2003. 

Long, exhausting, good day.

Day 2

Woke up unreasonably early and it was already 10:30am. What the hell, eastern standard time.

Driving around Rochester, the radio created a time warp by playing all the same songs it was playing back when we were in college and driving around New York as youths. The music cut to talking and after a minute Gavin said, “This is a weird podcast.” Child, I was feeling young until that moment.

Target was full of other parents charging around with carts full of dorm supplies, and other moms pressing warm clothes on teenage boys who looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. All the men in New York are wearing black jogger pants, so that is what I bought them. They complained about their ankles, but looked spiffy anyway. 

So much walking and shopping 

The boy’s first diner 

RESULTS

Two story Barnes and Noble! I thought they were extinct!

Sticky Lips Barbecue 

We ate very good food, hit Trader Joe’s for a bag full of snacks, and got locked out of the hotel room in our swimsuits. 

Amazing day. Rochester is beautiful and forested and full of houses that look like gingerbread. Screw dirt farming.