I keep wondering when the other shoe will fall with Danny.  He is in many respects my easiest child, talkative, creative, curious, generally mellow, etc.  He was  my surprise baby, born one year and two days after Bashar.  But since he was born, there have been some issues.  I nearly went into labor with him 8 weeks early while we were overseas.  Fortunately, he waited to be born at 38ish weeks.  When I was in labor with him, at one point, his heart rate was slowing down because he was not receiving enough oxygen, so an oxygen mask was put on him.  He was born normally without any complications.  He was jaundiced for the first 2 weeks of his life and I had to take him to a bilirubin clinic for daily heel sticks until his bilirubin levels were normal again.  At birth, he had a large spongy mark on one side of his neck.  He was only a month old when we had to see a hematologist for an opinion--was this birthmark benign or malignant?  We were told that it is benign, that it would go away on its own, and that if it did not when Danny was older, we could choose to have plastic surgery and have it removed.  Or, Danny could get a tattoo to cover up that mark.  Many people would ask us "what is that thing on his neck?".  Adults were diplomatic, but children, not so much.  Every time that I took him to the pediatrician and a new resident or medical student saw him, I would have to explain what that mark on  his neck was. 

When Danny was 4 years old, we decided to have the birthmark removed.  It was the first day of kindergarten for Bashar, but it was only one hour long.  I took my 3 childen with me to the elementary school for that one hour and then rushed to the Children's Hospital with all 3 children in tow.  The surgeon who did the initial consult took a picture of it and suggested that we have it biopsied.  Danny will tell you that the doctor "cut off the skin and threw it away".  I was scared because he would have to be given a general anesthesia.  He came out of the surgery just fine, thankfully, and was back to playing once we got home.  It was a long two weeks as we waited to find out what that piece of skin was.  The pathologist thought that it could be a fibrofolliculoma, possibly a sign of a rare genetic disorder called Birt Hogg Dube syndrome.  With Birt Hogg Dube syndrome, a person is at an increased risk of kidney cancer, lung cancer, and skin cancer.  We had a genetic test performed in November.  If it showed that Danny has the gene for Birt Hogg Dube syndrome, Bashar and Lana and my husband and I would have to be tested to see if anyone else carried that gene.  We learned that there is a gene which in some people manifests itself as Birt Hogg Dube syndrome, but in other people, it manifests itself as an autism spectrum disorder.  Danny tested negative for BHD, but since there is a 12% chance of false positives, the geneticist recommended that we have CT scans done yearly or biannually, just to be on the safe side. 

We had a CT scan with contrast done on June 25, one day before his 5th birthday.  The radiologist saw a 3 mm abnormality on Danny's left kidney.  He wanted for us to schedule an ultrasound  so that he could see more clearly what, if anything is on Danny's kidney.  It could be incidental, or it could be something serious.  The ultrasound is in 2 days, ironically 1 day before my birthday.  Then comes the waiting.  The waiting is the hardest part.  Really, I should be used to this by  now.  I have been dealing with doctors and specialists for both Bashar and Danny.  Thus far, we have been fortunate.  Danny is an active, strong, healthy looking little boy.  However, whenever I have to take him to see a specialist, I worry.  I watch as he sings Foo Fighter songs and I become tearry eyed, anxious that one day we will receive bad news from some specialist, that my little one could be taken from me because of complications from Birt Hogg Dube and I would not be able to hear his sweet voice singing "The Pretender" or "Everlong".  I try to be strong, I have to be, and tell myself that even if the doctors find something wrong, that we have been proactive about getting checkups and that he can be treated early.  If only I could convince my heart of that fact.

 

In the newspaper today was an article complaining that people of the so called Millenial Generation do not know that texting in certain situations is not appropriate.  I am on the outer limit of this generation since I was born in 1977.  I was shocked by the generalization that most people of my generation don't know that it is rude to be texting in class while a professor is talking or when speaking face to face with another person.  Good grief, when I was in high school, we weren't even allowed to have pagers with us because they could be used for illicit activities like drug deals.  This was before 12 year olds carried cell phones.  I didn't even have a cell phone or a lap top computer or a pager until I was 23-24 years old.  Does anyone remember needing change for a  pay phones?  It used to be 20 cents per phone call.  I didn't use e-mail until 1998, 3 years after I started college.  I remember my high school economics teacher talking about the world wide web.  I figured that it be couldn't possibly be all that great if Mr. Hawley was using it because he was not my favorite person in the world.  I also find it absurd that 32 year olds such as myself are put in the same generational category as 8 year olds (the article defined the Millenial Generation as 1977-2002).  Seriously, what happened to common sense?  There is a time to text, a time to focus and take notes, and a time to socialize.  I'm shocked that public service announcements would be necessary to remind people that it is not safe to text while driving.  Ya think???  I am curious as to what my dad would say because I *think* at Boeing there are probably people who are younger than I am working for him. 

My husband and I have a system for going shopping at the mall with our 3 children.  One person looks around for whatever he/she needs while the other one stays with the kids at a play area then we switch.  I had just finished trying on some clothes when a store employee (female) said to me, "could I help you with anything, dear?".  Wow.  I have not been called "dear" in a really long time.  Generally if I go shopping by myself, I have at least 2 if not 3 children with me.  Apparently I still look pretty young.  I paid for my purchases and the cashier (unmarried, college aged female) started making conversation with me about some bras that I was purchasing.  They were on clearance for a ridiculously low price.  She said that she had thought about buying some bras like those ones but she wasn't so sure about all the padding on them, that the padding would make her look ridiculous since she doesn't have very much up top.  I said that I liked to wear that particular bra because it makes me feel less like a mom.  I added that I usually have 2 or 3 of my children with me and  my youngest child is on my hip and hides anything that I would prefer to keep under wraps.  She asked me how old are my children.  When she heard that they are 5 1./2, 4 1/2, and 20 months, she was shocked.  She didn't think that I looked old enough (matronly enough perhaps?) to have that many children.  I was amused, not offended.  Children.  They keep me young but  now and then they ask me something or say something that puts gray hairs on my head.