Cuticle Pox

Disclaimer: I promise, this will be my last chicken-pox-related-post. We’re in the home stretch now: scabby time.

But I just have to tell you, in addition to chicken pox, which is bad enough all by itself, Bucket Head also got another ear infection and we spent Saturday afternoon in the Emergency Room. Why oh why must they always get the massive boo-boos on the weekends when the co-pay is $200 instead of $20?  Not kewl.  

Look, I know you are just as sick of this shit as I am and that you miss the raunchy, deviant, sexy Iris.  So to appease you nasty monkeys (whom I love so dearly… takes one to know one), let’s talk about peckers. Poxed little peckers, to be precise.  Men folk, brace yourselves. 

I was giving Bucket Head is daily oatmeal bath the other day when Nature Boy, my sensitive and poetic 9 year old son, came in to say hello.  

“Oh…look at that poor little dottie body. I feel so bad for him.” he said.

“I know, honey. Poor little thing. Don’t worry, his chicken pox will be gone in just a few more days.” I reassured him. 

“Mom?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Did you notice that it’s on his penis?”  

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“DOH! Mom look! It’s on his cuticles too! OUCH!”

“Cuticles?” I inquired.

“Yeah. Look!” he urged. I grabbed Bucket Head’s hand and looked closely at the cuticle region of his fingertips…no pox. That is the one square inch of this child without lesions or scabs.  ”Huh?” 

“No Mom!  His cuticles! (he shouted…as if I simply didn’t hear him)  Down there!” (and he pointed dramatically to Bucket Head’s groin).

“OH! You mean his testicles? Yes, it is on his testicles too.” I answered.

“Testicles?” he asked, with a perplexed face like I had just spoken Swahili. 

“Yeah, you know…his balls. (blank face)… Those things (I pointed)… in that wrinkly little bag… under his penis. They’re called testicles, and the skin around them is called the scrotum, remember?” (and to those of you who did not know the distinction until just now…you are so welcome.)

“Oh yeah! Right. That looks really painful… Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Why is it called chicken pox?” 

“Uh…I dunno. Why do YOU think it is called chicken pox?” [Score! Best parenting answer ever!]

“Because he looks like a plucked chicken?” he surmised. 

“Good guess. [wow!] I’d buy that. I’ll google it and get back to you. Don’t you have some times tables to memorize or a Pokémon battle to win or something?” (’cause damn, I mean, the chatter…does it ever end?) 

“Yeah. OK. Bye Bucket Head. I hope you and your little frank and beans feel better soon, dude.”  (Sweet…he doesn’t know “testicles,” but he knows “frank and beans.” Did I let him watch There’s Something About Mary with me one time when I was drunk?)  

My little Nature Boy. Great kid. I don’t get a chance to write about him very often. He’s so pure and decent most of the time – he just doesn’t give me the same quantity of material that the other two crumb-snatchers do.  But the “cuticles” bit killed me.  I couldn’t make that shit up if I tried.  Out of the mouths of babes, eh?  

So yes, Bucket Head’s frank and beans are totally poxed. It is absolutely horrifying to look at. No, I won’t include a picture… I’m too afraid of adding “child pornographer” to my rap sheet. You’ll just have to take my word for it and use your imagination. But it is everywhere. EVERYWHERE. 

Bucket Head calls his penis, “eenis.” He’s only 19 months old and tends to omit the first sounds on a lot of words, which is purdy darn cute.  So now he is walking around, tugging at the front of his little diaper, saying “Eenis…itchy. Eenis…itchy.” Heartbreaking. Wasn’t Eenis a character on The Dukes of Hazard?  Bonus points for anyone who can answer that. 

Well, at Nature Boy’s request, I did a little research and found out a whole bunch of nifty facts about chicken pox that I bet you are just chompin’ at the bit to know.  

Get this – according to cyberspace, chicken pox Is named as such after one of several possible reasons:

• after chick peas, from a supposed similarity in size of the legume to the lesions;
• the specks that appear looked as though the skin was pecked by chickens; 
• the term reflects a corruption of the Old English word, “giccin,” which meant “itching;”
• Samuel Johnson suggested that the disease was “no very great danger,” thus a “chicken” version of the pox (as opposed to small pox, which was a great danger…contrary to its moniker, and the great pox, syphilis).

So, yeah, no easy answer, and none that stand out as a clear winner for me to share with the kids.  I mean really, chick peas?  Have you seen a chick pea lately?  Not a single lesion on Bucket Head comes even close to looking like a chick pea. Next. Skin pecked by chickens?  Maybe. “Giccin,” sounds like “chicken”? Perhaps. As opposed to “smallpox”? Well then, shouldn’t they have named smallpox “big pox” or “serious pox” or “fuck it…yer gonna die pox?”    

Here are some other noteworthy things I learned in my google-time today: 

chicken pox  

• is caused by the varicella-zoster virus, a member of the herpes virus family. Lovely.
• aka varicella, is a derivative of the Latin varius, meaning spotted, orvarus, meaning “pimple.”
• is a highly contagious respiratory disease that is spread through the air or by direct contact with an infected person’s nasal mucus, saliva, or oozing skin lesions. You had me at oozing.  
• usually takes 10-21 days to incubate before symptoms appear. Something to look forward to…
• is most contagious 12 to 24 hours before the rash even appears. Nice.
• doesn’t spread through indirect contact. That means it doesn’t live on objects like sheets, towels, counters, or toys. Phew.
• is usually only contagious until all the sores have scabbed over, usually about six to seven days after the sores appear.  Sweet!  Home stretch! 

So again, I apologize in advance for the lack of sexy. But stay tuned…I have my annual OB-GYN checkup this week, and you know what that means: oodles of TMI just around the corner.  And hopefully, what I have to say about that will in no way contain any references to lesions, scabs, or infections of any kind.  No promises though.  

 

© 2008 The Bearded Iris

La Varicelle – Day 3

Everything sounds better in French, no?  Even chicken pox, an extremely infectious disease that produces itchy, syphilis-like pustules, sounds kinda sexy when you call it “la varicelle.”  So, from now on, my 18-month old son, Bucket Head, has a case of la varicelle. Not chicken pox. Got it? Trés bien.   

He blistered up on Sunday.  That was day one.  We went to the doctor Monday, day 2, and were told that Bucket Head has the single worst case of chicken pox that my pediatrician “has seen in 10-15 years” (“…because everyone vaccinates these days. Aren’t you sorry you missed that appointment now?”).  Tuesday, day 3, some of the lesions are starting to crust over.  He still has a fever.  I taught him how to say “itchy” because he is clearly very uncomfortable, tugging at his clothes and rubbing up against me like a mangy little puppy. I took him outside for some naked time thinking that a little fresh air and sunshine might help to dry up the blisters, especially the ones on his nether regions. Ouch! There is nothing harder than watching your child suffer.

Well, actually, there is one thing harder.  Accidentally overdosing your 26-pound baby with an adult dose of Benedryl and having to call Poison Control before your first cup of coffee is pretty damn hard too. Don’t worry. He’s fine. Turns out that 25 mgs of Benedryl for an 18-month-old is just considered “a double dose,” which is fine if the toddler is in the middle of a major anaphylactic shock type of allergic reaction, but probably not appropriate for a regular itch-management dose.  Noted.  On the plus side, he had a great nap today.  If, before reading this, you were feeling like you weren’t a very good Mom today, you are welcome!     

In addition to the Benedryl overdose, we’ve also been doing oatmeal baths three times a day (placing a cup of old fashioned oatmeal in an old sock and knotting it), and he loves that. Something I did not expect: the oatmeal cooks in the bath water and smells delicious!  It actually takes a bit of willpower to not eat the oatmeal out of the sock at the end of the bath. Could that be considered multi-tasking, or even eco-friendly?  Or perhaps it’s just gross.  Fortunately, my neighbor brought us dinner tonight and it was mm-mm-good!  (Don’t you just love a good neighbor?) So no pustule infused dirty bath water oatmeal for me today.  Maybe tomorrow…

“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?” – Milton Berle

 

© 2008 The Bearded Iris

A Pox on My Home

I’m not sure what I’ve done to anger the Wellness Gods, but clearly I am on their shit-list.  Last week Klepto and Nature Boy BOTH had the stomach bug, which just sucked out loud. But apparently that wasn’t enough punishment for me because yesterday my little Bucket Head woke up with THE CHICKEN POX.  Oh for the love of GOD.  Don’t they vaccinate for that nowadays?  

Oh wait, yes, apparently “they” do vaccinate against Chicken Pox, but I did not. You know why?  Because I have been scared stiff about vaccinations by the whole autism thing.  I still vaccinate, but I spread them out and vaccinate at a slower rate than recommended by the CDC. As a rule, I don’t let my kids get more than two shots per visit.  And as a result, I am way behind on Bucket Head’s immunizations. So, clearly the Varicella Vaccine (which is usually given for the first time at the 12 or 15 month appointments, and again at 4-6 years), is one of the shots we missed. He’s 18 months now, but I keep forgetting to take him in for the “make up shots,” what with all the vomit scrubbing and sleep deprivation and prescription drug experimentation.  And every time I do happen to remember that I need to get our asses to the doctor for a “drop in” vaccinations appointment, it is because little Bucket Head is sick again, and you can’t give shots to little ones when they are sick.  So here we are. Fever. Pustules. Miserable baby. Definitely not a good day to give up sniffing glue.

Bucking the CDC vaccination schedule takes a brave Mommy. It is not easy. It costs more money, first of all, because of the extra co-pays for the extra visits.  But also, it takes a strong person to look at some of these smug pediatricians in the face and say, “I want to spread out the vaccinations.”  Some of them roll their eyes and treat you like you are such a pain in the ass.  Most people pleasing mommies do not like to feel like we are causing any trouble whatsoever.  We like to do the right thing and make everyone feel good!  And of course, setting myself up for the “I told you so lecture” from Bucket Head’s pediatrician today is not something I stomach well.  Oh and how he savored every tasty morsel of telling me that this is the worst case of Chicken Pox he’s seen in 10-15 years, “because everyone vaccinates these days…aren’t you sorry you missed this one now?”  Focker.  

You know the drill, you send your kids to preschool to socialize them and give yourself a break. And of course to make sure they don’t start Kindergarten BEHIND, because how will they ever get into the AP classes and the good colleges if they don’t get a good head start. Ack. But by sending them to preschool, they are exposed to all sorts of germs (and other undesirable things like bad manners, junk food, and the children of McCain supporters).  But overall, preschool and the plethora of viruses is a good thing…because if they get sick now, they’ll build their immunity and be as strong as big Bavarian oxen by the time they enter kindergarten, right?  We can only hope.    

I know some women who don’t vaccinate at all.  I considered that myself, being somewhat of a tree-hugging rebel, until one of my pediatricians told me that she actually had an infant patient who contracted whooping cough a couple of years ago and died. That scared the bejeezus out of me.  So I vaccinate.  But I try to do it intelligently. I ask to make sure there is no Thermarasol, the mercury preservative in the MMR vaccine, and they always smirk patronizingly and assure me that there hasn’t been mercury in the shots for years.  And like I said before, I space the vaccines out, because I fear that when five or six vaccines are stacked on top of each other, that maybe it is the volatile vaccine cocktail that is causing autism in such high numbers right now (1 in every 150 in the USA and 1 in 58 in England and Ireland!).  And I don’t get flu shots for my kids, although with my luck, we’ll probably all get the flu this year and wind up on life support.  Ugh, what is a mother to do?  

It reminds me of the time I stopped using Fluoride Toothpaste on Klepto because all the Über-Moms in my circle were condemning the evils of heavy metals and how they contribute to sensory problems and autism and global warming, and oh Lord, I just realized that my raisins aren’t organic and my water isn’t filtered!! MY KIDS ARE GONNA DIE. Or at the very least, their brains will be addled by heavy metal toxicity and they will be, gulp, average. So, yeah, we weren’t using Fluoride Toothpaste for a while and sure enough, Klepto had 8 cavities at her next dental appointment. Eight. Just fucking shoot me. There is no right answer here, folks. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. And you wonder why I drink.  

The autism thing is very frightening.  Particularly when you hear the stories of the healthy babies who suddenly change around the age of two…right around the series of immunizations they get at that 2 year healthy baby checkup.  Off the top of my head, I know about a half-dozen kids on the autism spectrum, and a couple more who I suspect are on the spectrum but have not been diagnosed yet. Thank God for Hollywood stars like Jenny McCarthy who are using their celebrity to attract attention to this disorder and fight for resources to help the children and families affected by it. I love when people use their super powers for good, don’t you?        

And speaking of super powers, since one of mine is obviously sharing good advice and resources, I would like to issue an open invitation to a Chicken Pox Party at my cesspool, I mean, house. No RSVP necessary…we’ll be trapped here anyway for the next 7-10 days waiting for the blisters to dry up and go away. I have been searching online for home remedies and I just learned that Chicken Pox Parties are all the rage among the Über-Moms who don’t want to vaccinate but who don’t want their Über-Spawn to be struck down by this disease too late in life.  So let me help you out, ladies.  For the modest administrative fee of $10 or one big bottle of Twisted Pig Pinot Grigio per family, you are welcome to my son’s Chicken Pox virus.  Come on over and we’ll share the love.   

I’d also like to share a recipe I just found for an old fashioned Oatmeal Bath.  This is great not just for soothing nasty oozing crusty pustules of all kinds (ahem, so I’ve been told), but also for just plain old dry winter skin. Make sure your bath water is not too hot, first of all. Hot water makes skin conditions worse. Draw a tepid bath. Then add a cup of old fashioned oatmeal. But here’s the trick: don’t just put the oatmeal in your tub, or you are gonna clog up your drain like nobody’s beeswax and just make more work for yourself, which I clearly oppose.  Instead, you have two choices: 1.) grind it up into a powder or 2.) stick it in an old stocking or a piece of cheese cloth and tie a knot.  Then stick it in the tub like a giant funky tea bag, hold it under the running water, and squeeze it a few times to release the soothing oatmeal juices. You can do this a few times a day if necessary (always use a fresh cup of Oatmeal though, der).  Apparently, once the Chicken Pox pustules start to dry up they get very itchy and that is when the Oatmeal Baths will really come in handy. I’ll let you know in a few days…if the Wellness Gods don’t strike me down dead before then or cause me to lose the function of my typing fingers or eyeballs. Ptoy, ptoy, ptoy.

© 2008 The Bearded Iris