Music class with little friends

Kaia had two more class credits to use up before the summer was up with Little Maestros music class. I wouldn’t have found this task so annoying if it weren’t for the fact that Little Maestros primarily has classes on weekdays. Only during the summer for about 2.5 months do they have two options for a Saturday class, but both sessions, at 10am and 11am, are on the East Side of Central Park by 79th Street, so it’s not the most convenient area for us to get to. Granted, it takes about 25 minutes to walk through the park to get there, but when you’re pushing a stroller, sometimes as you’d imagine, it can be a bit longer.

So I thought it would be fun to consolidate and do one music class session there, and use the second class credit with my friends and their daughter, who is about 8 months younger than Kaia and recently celebrated her birthday. So this was kind of like her belated birthday “experience” gift. We could make it into a music class/day at the park/lunch outing, and so we ended up doing that.

It was really cute seeing Kaia in the music class today. It’s one of the only music classes she’s attended where she could walk, so of course, she was running around everywhere, whether it was up to the performers while they were singing, around other families (with far less mobile babies), and even out of the class area to the walking path, where other park goers were just wandering around. Of course, she knew she was being cheeky and giggling every time I ran after her. When she was running around, I realized looking around at the class (it was actually quite a large group, and in most cases, couples came with their baby or babies, and even friends and grandparents came) that she was probably one of the older children there because she was the only one who was running around. Most of the other babies looked so young that they were unlikely to even be crawling yet.

But what I found the funniest and cutest about the time Kaia had with my friend’s 1-year old today was that I told Kaia that she had to share her Little Maestros instruments with her friend. And as soon as Kaia saw the friend take one of the instruments, she immediately started taking all the other toys and shoving them into the box, then put the box behind her back away from the friend. Kaia then put her hands over the box, as though to shield it from anyone else touching it. And I insisted to Kaia that she had to take turns and that the toys were for both of them today, not just her. Eventually, she was okay with “turn taking,” but it took a little coaxing for her to ease up her grip on the toys that she wasn’t even playing much with. Talk about toddler possessiveness!

Even though Kaia will always be my baby and I will always look at her like she’s a baby, today’s class made me realize even more exactly how much she has grown and matured. She really is a true toddler now and not really a baby anymore. She’s also expressing herself more and more and asserting her wants, likes, and dislikes constantly, and I’m just trying to keep up with all of it and not let her turn into an entitled brat. With the “turn taking” today, I cannot even imagine what she’d be like with a little sibling!!

Chest x-ray results are in

This time last week, I was getting a chest x-ray done at a radiology lab. The results got sent back to my pulmonologist’s office this week, but given he’s been out since he’s on vacation, no one has followed up with me, even his backup doctor (how nice). So I called the office today, when the receptionist said the backup doctor would be available to review the results with me, and the receptionist said we actually didn’t need to have me talk to the doctor because she could see the notes from the radiology lab on the x-ray: everything was normal.

I wasn’t sure whether to be happy about this or not. Obviously, I didn’t want to hear anything dire or terrifying (like a tumor or abscess) in my lungs. But I did want some understanding of why the heck I keep getting these stupid coughing fits. It’s clear now, after over three weeks of being ill, that the only symptom I have left is the coughing, which is occasionally accompanied by coughing attacks that result in vomiting up phlegm or a little food. That is not normal. No one has given me a real, easy to understand explanation of why this keeps happening. The ENT doctor telling me that it’s just recurring silent reflux when I get sick just is not helpful. Why can’t anyone help me understand this better….?

Childcare in New York

Tonight, Chris and I went out to the Beacon Theater to see a comedy show. John Oliver and Seth Meyers were performing standup. We’ve gone out without Pookster pretty infrequently this year: we went out for my birthday, when Chris’s cousin was visiting from Vancouver in March, for my friend’s 40th birthday in April, and in July for another comedy show. This means that tonight is only the fifth time this year that we’ve gone out on our own without our child and needed some form of babysitter. Twice, our ex-nanny helped. Twice, my friend graciously and generously looked after Pookster. And this time, we found a babysitter that was referred through a friend of Chris.

When we transitioned to daycare, we realized that all of the teachers at Kaia’s school were people of color: everyone was either Black or Latina. Our former nanny is Black. And even last year when we got backup care babysitters through Chris’s work, both those babysitters were also Black. So when our babysitter showed up tonight and we met her in person for the very first time, Chris realized that she was the first form of childcare (that was not family) that was actually not someone of color: this babysitter was the first White babysitter Kaia had ever had. I didn’t even think about it until Chris brought it up, but I realized he was right.

The majority of caregivers in New York, whether it’s for childcare or elderly care, are people of color. I suppose that’s probably the way it is in the rest of the country, as well. The hardest, most under appreciated work is generally almost always done by people of color.

The garlicky goodness that is toum

A few years ago, Chris and I were exploring the multi-ethnic (and multi-delicious) area of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, when we walked into a tiny little shop called Karam Restaurant. At the time, Karam had about three small tables and was really meant for takeout orders. Despite being a tiny store front, they had quite the variety of foods, both ready made and made to order, ranging from freshly roasted shawarma, wraps and sandwiches, savory pies, the equivalent of Middle Eastern style “pizzas,” and different types of baklava and other Middle Eastern sweets. We ordered one shawarma wrap, which was made to order, and we ate inside. While the shawarma meat and the wrap and all the vegetables inside were delicious, what really, really stood out to me was this incredible, thick, whipped, white garlic-aioli-like sauce that the wrap was generously slathered with. I had no idea what this sauce was called, but I immediately looked it up later to find out that it was a much loved Lebanese garlic sauce called toum. Toum is a simple sauce made of just four ingredients (fresh garlic, neutral oil, salt, and fresh lemon juice), blended and emulsified to create an airy, whipped, creamy garlic sauce, thick enough to slather on your favorite Lebanese roasted meats and vegetables… or really, anything that needs a bit of extra flavor or oomph. I was sold. It seemed so simple with just four ingredients, and I knew I had to make it.

But when I looked up recipes for it, I felt a bit deterred when I found out how finicky it actually was: toum had a tendency to become very bitter if you didn’t treat the garlic properly. And what I mean by that is: you need really, really fresh garlic for toum, like the freshest possible that you can find. The reason for this is if you do not, the inner part of the garlic, which if it’s old, can impart bitterness. You usually know if your garlic is a bit older if when you cut a clove in half, you can see a little green or lighter white sprout. So if you have access to just standard supermarket garlic like I do, you will need to go through the extra step of cutting every single garlic clove in half and manually removing the inner white/green part. That sounded like too much work, especially given you need at least half a cup of garlic cloves to make a decent amount of toum to store! And given I do not have access to garden fresh garlic, I was a bit hesitant.

But today, I decided to finally just cave in and make it. I needed toum as an ingredient to make the home version of “white sauce” for the halal style chicken and rice bowls I wanted to have for dinner. So I sucked it up, cut each clove in half, removed the center, and went on my way. I blended and emulsified the toum, and…. wow. Just wow. The sauce honestly tasted just as good as I remember it from Karam. It was SO GOOD — so intense, so garlicky, so singing with flavor.

Now, I’ve got an entire jar’s worth of this whipped white glory in my fridge that will store beautifully for the next four months. I can’t wait to find other things to use it for.

shawarma

Dreams of preventing murders and moving murals

In the last few weeks of being ill, I haven’t remembered many of my dreams at all. Part of it is because I’m sure I am dreaming far less just given the simple fact I am sleeping less. I have rarely been able to fall asleep earlier than 2am every night, and that’s despite usually getting into bed by 9:30 or 10. That’s because my coughing and phlegm keep me awake regardless of how tired or how badly I want to sleep. It’s been pretty miserable. Yet despite this, when I wake up at around 6:30 or 7, I actually do not completely feel like crap and actually feel like I had enough rest to get through the day, which is pretty miraculous given the few hours of sleep I got in a single night.

The first dream I remember was when Chris and I were on a motorcycle, racing through some dead streets in the middle of the night. I have no idea what city we were in or why the heck we were even on a motorcycle, but I do know we were going at a very fast pace, and there wasn’t even a single other car or motorist on the road with us. We went into this crazy long, dark tunnel, and in the tunnel, there’s this strange mural of an endless, rainbow-colored dragon. And as you keep moving into the tunnel, the dragon’s tail almost appears to be undulating and moving closer and closer to you. That was kind of fun.

The second dream was a bit more intense. I had received a freak call from who knows who about the fact that my mom was being held captive at a specific location and was going to get killed. Someone tipped me off on where she was and had a gun delivered to me to help shoot the person who was going to kill my mom. And with timing being on my side, this psycho was doing a countdown from ten, after which he was going to shoot my mom in the head. When I found them (and this guy did not see me), I came silently from behind and saw the guy holding my mom tightly with the gun pushed into her ear. And when he got to the number 3, that was when I pulled the trigger and shot the guy right in the back of his head (I have amazing aim in my dreams!!). I pushed his body over, grabbed my mom and carried her out of the building.

Was that realistic? No. But it was a dream, so…. I’m not sure what to make of any of that. Who knows — is my mom making enemies out there now, and that’s why I’m having ridiculous dreams like that?

ENT visit and silent reflux

This morning, I made my way over to the east side once again for my ENT doctor visit. I have only ever had one ENT doctor visit, and that was almost six years ago after I lost my voice during a Hamilton Island/New Zealand trip and got another bad virus that also felt like it was going to kill me. I decided to go back to the same ENT since he already had my history, and I remember enjoying meeting with him. I thought he was quite friendly and smart, so why try someone new?

Somehow, after six years, this doctor still remembered me. He said he remembered my symptoms, voice, and face (how sweet). We talked through what’s been happening in the last six years, and once again, we did the dreaded laryngoscopy: he sprayed my nostrils with numbing spray and got me ready to thread yet another camera down my freaking throat. It lasted about 15 seconds, and somehow, it wasn’t as awful as I remember. After the exam, he told me I still had evidence of silent reflux. It may just be that I had always had it but was asymptomatic, and whatever virus I picked up six years ago just triggered it in me and drove me over the edge. He suggested that I try the following for the next three months (!!): Prilosec at least an hour before dinner; famotidine/Tums or Pepsid Complete before bed, and to elevate my head so that my throat was above my stomach at bed time. Somehow, being diligent this way had cured many of his other patients with the same recurring coughing fits when they had colds. And maybe, he said, I could be one of the lucky ones this works for. He insisted I do this for three months straight and be consistent about it; I had nothing to lose… other than all the money I’d have to spend on freaking Prilosec – NOT a cheap OTC medication!

I may just be more genetically inclined for this. I guess it makes sense: my maternal grandpa did die from choking on his own mucus when my mom was six. My mom gets mucus constantly.

Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

Toddler selectivity heightened – when “soup” isn’t soup

Since Kaia got sick a few weeks ago, she’s been very hit or miss with a lot of the foods I’ve made. Some days, she will eat an adult sized portion of roasted carrots. The next day, she won’t even look at them. I tried making French lentils and serving them plain to her late last week. She ate a lot of them the first day, and ever since, she refuses to eat them. I’m not sure who she learned this from, but she started gathering all the lentils and tucking them into her bib, as though I would not even notice and assume she ate them – a very sneaky baby!

I figured it would make sense to just blend them into a soup. I had made fresh stock just a couple days ago in my Instant Pot and just had to saute some onions, aromatics, vegetables, and spices with it all. She’s always loved soup and has enjoyed the matzo ball soup that Chris has gotten me twice over the last three weeks. So I made the soup and blended all the lentils so that it was just a creamy, smooth bean soup. When I told her she was having soup, her face lit up, and it was clear she was excited… and likely anticipating a clear soup like matzo ball. So when she saw her bowl, she got mad and yelled, “No! No! No!” over and over and waved the bowl away. I didn’t push. I just put my bowl of soup up on her tray and ate my soup, spoon by spoon, in front of her, emphasizing how tasty and yummy it was. Finally, I watched her as she watched me, and I saw that she was getting FOMO. So I tried again: I put a small amount of soup on a spoon and lifted it to her lips, and finally, she opened her mouth and took it. She winced a little, then swallowed, smiled, and exclaimed, “Tasty! More!”

Win win for me. And then she proceeded to eat an entire bowl, insisting that she put the spoon in her mouth herself.

Throwing up spicy pork on a Saturday afternoon

My vomiting episodes since Monday have been pretty unpredictable. To be fair, they are always unpredictable, but since Monday, they have been far less frequent, but far more violent and scary. We didn’t go far at all today since I felt miserable today, so Chris decided to pick up some food from Bang Bang Bar at the Time Warner Center for lunch. We shared the food, and about 1.5 hours later, I found myself kneeling over the toilet, throwing up the spicy Korean pork and rice that he had ordered. It was not pleasant or fun. This vomiting session truly felt like I was dying: the force of the vomit through my throat was really intense, and at times, it felt like I could barely even breathe. All the force of the food coming up pushes on my entire face, and everything is coming out everywhere else: huge tears streaming out of my eyes, and more mucus is bubbling up in my nostrils. I’m hot and sweaty from the force of the vomit, and my body is exhausted from all the coughing and vomiting… because that’s what coughing and vomiting does: it wears on your entire body. And if we really had to be TMI about this, the force of the vomit went the other way, too: I even managed to pee a little in my underwear. Yep. It went there. That never even happened to me ONCE during pregnancy, so that goes to show how strong my pelvic floor has usually been, thanks to all my kegel exercises!

Then, I got a headache and another body ache. And I thought, wow, if this happened more frequently, maybe it would be better just to be dead? Because that’s what it really feels like when this type of coughing fit happens: it feels like your whole body is just giving up and not protecting you anymore.

Radiology SNAFU and contemplations of potential terminal illnesses

I attempted to go to the radiology location close to my apartment yesterday after my pulmonologist appointment, and although chest x-rays are usually drop-in and don’t require an appointment, I apparently came on a bad day. I knew it was a bad day immediately as I entered the facility. There were so many people in the waiting room that all the seats were taken, and at least a dozen people were standing and waiting. Plus, the line for the receptionist had at least half a dozen people there. When I finally got to the desk, they told me that today was an unusual day: they were behind by over an hour, and so I’d have to come back tomorrow. To be safe, I made an appointment for 9am and returned today… to find out that the x-ray machine was down at this location, so I had to go down to Chelsea. They claim they called me twice and I never answered, but I know this was false because a) I never saw any missed call, nor any voice message (hello? isn’t that medical protocol to leave a MESSAGE?), and b) at least seven other people were standing there, yelling at the front desk workers because they said they never received any calls or voice messages. These are people who had commuted out of their way and weren’t anywhere as young or mobile as I was. Plus, from the pamphlets they were holding, they seemed like they had far, far worse, more serious conditions than I had.

Annoyingly, I made an appointment at their Chelsea location and hopped on the train downtown. And as I sat in the waiting room, I noticed the patients around me waiting to get called in for their x-rays. And they were holding pamphlets about everything from breast, lung, to pancreatic cancer. Lung cancer is the most deadly cancer in the U.S. Breast cancer unfortunately is more common than it is not. And pancreatic cancer is known to be one of the most painful cancers in existence. All I could think when I saw all these people around me was: wow. I just felt so terrible to think they were all looking at these x-rays and appointments as another step along their way to a potential death sentence. It must be so terrifying. One patient looks like she came in with the emotional support of both her son and daughter.

And then I had this dark thought: what if the x-ray results came back and they found I had something more serious that was wrong, like a tumor or malignant growth of some sort? How would I handle the news? How would I share that news, if at all, and to whom, and when? How would I even look at my young baby and think that my days could be numbered with her, this tiny little being that I had wanted so badly and waited so long for? It was a bit unsettling, but a real thought, a potential reality. It doesn’t escape me that death could always be knocking on my door at any point in my life. I am not one of those people who is in denial that death is a part of life, and it doesn’t always happen when you think it will, or when you think it will be convenient. I’ve known too many people who have died too young. Ed is just one of them, the closest of them. And my friend Raj is still the biggest mystery for all who loved him, as we still have no idea what took his life just over two years ago. Life is not long for everyone, unfortunately.

Pulmonologist visit, tonsil infection, and the search for a new PCP

Yesterday’s GI doctor suggested I visit a pulmonologist to get my respiratory system checked out given my coughing fits. It may be that something in my windpipe or lungs was causing all my recurrent coughing fits and phlegm build up, so I took her referral and was lucky enough to get an appointment with this doctor on the very same day I called. I called at around noon and sounded so pathetic and sad on the phone that the receptionist took genuine pity on me. She told the doctor how awful I sounded, and despite having a full schedule of patients today before he left for his vacation to the Galapagos Islands tomorrow for the next 1.5 weeks, he told her that he could fit me in at 2:20. So I hauled myself over to the East 60s to his office and waited.

I thought he’d be the kind of doctor I liked before I even came in. I took a quick peek at his Google Reviews before I called the office, and almost all his patients raved about him, saying he had excellent bedside manner, was super friendly and thorough, never rushed you, and was extremely smart and knowledgable even outside of the pulmonary purview. Once he came into my exam room, we spent about 30 minutes together, discussing history, the events that led to today, my symptoms, and chit chatted about work, travel, kids, and life in New York. He told me how he knew and previously worked with my GI doctor, and how he had seen so many crazy things while working in an ICU for many years previously. So he’s clearly knowledgable about a broad range of things despite being focused on the respiratory system now. He did a thorough exam, which included listening to me breathe, a breathing test, examining my mouth and throat. He let me know that I actually did not have hand foot mouth disease — I had a tonsil infection. All those white blobs I could see on my tonsils were pus pockets everywhere, as lovely as that sounds! So he prescribed me a z-pak antibiotic and a nasal spray…. which he suggested I use every day, morning and night, to ward off all the nasty germs my child would continue to introduce me to… until she’s at least age 6-7. He was NOT joking about that. He also gave me a referral to get a chest x-ray done and suggested I do it either today or tomorrow so we could get the results in ASAP. He reassured me that while he’d be out the next 1.5 weeks that the other doctor in his practice would review my results once the x-ray was in and give me next steps.

I really liked this guy. He was just so normal, so smart, and even funny, like the kind of doctor I’d want as my primary care provider. Why can’t HE be my PCP….?