Tuesday, June 19, 2012

May Contain Nuts


I am still recovering from and reflecting on a hectic day of allergy testing last week - a five-hour drive into Edmonton to have two-thirds of our boys re-evaluated by means of skin prick tests. The Coles-notes version of the procedure is this: a tiny amount of a particular allergen is placed in liquid form on the patient’s skin - usually arm, sometimes back. Then that spot is pricked and the site is monitored for swelling. If the spot swells it indicates an allergy, and the larger the swelling the more severe the allergy. My boys looked like they had incredibly organized and symmetrical chicken pox. Or were attacked by military-trained mosquitoes. Itchy but effective.

Results in terms of food are as follows: Sasha is still highly allergic to fish, but may have outgrown his almond allergy. We’ll need to confirm this by means of an oral challenge – We (and by “we” I mean my husband, as I have my own nut allergies) touch a small amount of almond to his lips and see if he reacts. This is preferably done in the doctor’s office or hospital. If Sasha is indeed no longer allergic to almonds it is a small victory, as they would still be considered contraband in our house, but it would open up new culinary possibilities for him and make things like sleepovers and birthday parties somewhat less stressful for all involved.  Jude is in a bit of a holding pattern – still allergic to peanuts, eggs and milk. Many kids outgrow the latter two allergies, and can often tolerate these foods in the cooked state, so we have the green-light to test small amounts of cooked milk and eggs in his diet. Ingesting traces of eggs or milk has typically resulted in vomiting and/or hives but not breathing problems, so the thought of giving him a “normal” chocolate chip cookie is less terrifying than a peanut butter cookie, but still a scary thing to do to your kid after years of vigilantly not letting him eat these things. Not to mention his trepidation at eating something “unsafe.”

The list of environmental allergens is growing. Both Sasha and Jude are allergic to many of the trees in our yard, the grasses in our fields and the weeds in our garden. Plus indoor stuff like dust-mites and mould. (Actually we all are except for Finn. He bucks the trends, including genetic ones.)  Paul and Jude have asthma. Sasha and I have asthmatic reactions to environmental allergens, but we are not affected year-round to things like exercise and cold.   Jude and I spent two hours in an ambulance when he was three-years-old, racing to a bigger hospital because he was so close to intubation. I have spent many hours in the emergency waiting room with huge welts covering so much of his body he looked like a burn victim. Sasha was rushed to hospital twice with anaphylactic reactions. We covered Jude’s hands with cotton socks when he was a baby because his eczema was so bad he would scratch until he bled. Heartbreak and anxiety come with the territory.

If you have an anaphylactic reaction that requires an epinephrine injection there is a possibility that you may still require a second dose. This is crucial for us as we live and go to school more than fifteen minutes away from an emergency room. So we each need to carry two doses. Twinject is an auto-injector similar to an Epipen but with a back-up syringe dose. On any given day we collectively cart around three Twinjects (or six Epipens), three  Flovent puffers, four  Ventolin puffers, three nasal sprays, Benadryl capsules, Children’s Benadryl syrup, Claritin tablets, Kid’s Claritin syrup, three MedicAlert bracelets and two kinds of topical allergy cream. We don’t travel light. Or cheap. And we’re not very spontaneous, but I like to think we’re responsible.

This might sound like a lot to deal with, and it is, but it isn’t a new issue for our family to have to cope with. I was diagnosed with a nut allergy at age six. We kept an ana-kit (refrigerated epinephrine syringe system) at home and at school, and presumably travelled with antihistamines. I have worn a Medic Alert bracelet just about every day since. I have had numerous reactions from both ingestion and cross-contamination of nuts – at school, parties, restaurants, arenas, work and church. I was rushed to emergency on my high school grad night after eating a piece of cake that contained walnut extract. A friend had to jab my Epipen into my leg and rush me to the hospital after we worked the phones for a library fundraiser. (The admitting physician was working on his bedside manner – as he monitored my oxygen saturation and blood pressure he cheerily told me stories of all the nut trees he had in his yard as a child.)

I am credited with saving a life because of my allergy. When I was in elementary school the teachers were asked to practice administering the anakit in case of emergency. They didn’t make simulator ones like they do now, so the health nurse gathered up a bunch of expired epinephrine and they practiced by stabbing oranges. When I started grade six, my teacher from the previous year shared how she had been on vacation in Europe, and someone stumbled to her doorstep begging her to inject her epinephrine as she couldn’t seem to do it herself. Practiced in the art of stabbing oranges, she did, and the woman lived. My teacher was so proud that because of me she had saved this woman’s life. I was pretty freaked out.

The experience on my husband’s side of our family is more tragic. His older sister died from her peanut allergy. She had an anaphylactic reaction while on a school trip to France at age 16. I never had the pleasure of meeting my sister-in-law-in-spirit, but I think of her often. I pray that I honour her memory by raising her nephews in safe and meaningful ways. I think it was hard for my in-laws that their first daughter-in-law had the same condition to which they lost their only daughter. It is a weird coincidence and a constant reminder of a profound loss. Maybe some wounds have to be re-opened before they can heal, I don’t know. Only God knows. But there are layers of scar tissue.  

So this is our life. It is a consolation to me that these burdens are familiar to us. The fact that my kids have food allergies is well within my normal realm of experience. It wasn’t an unfamiliar (or particularly unexpected, given the genetic aspect) diagnosis. It isn’t something out of left field, not like autism or Down’s Syndrome would be.  We are used to reading labels, asking questions, seeking out “safe” food. We don’t tend to eat out in restaurants very much. All that time I save on reading menus I spend scouring labels in the grocery stores. Yes, lots of labels and lots of questions – Can Sasha go fishing if we don’t allow fish in the boat? Should we raise our own chickens? Should we try desensitization? How can we travel safely, dealing with different languages, norms and cuisines? What can I make for supper tonight?

I have to remember that not everyone else is as educated about allergies as I am. I need to be firm but forgiving to the kindly lady who tries to slip my child a cookie behind my back. Not everyone knows that most cookies are dangerous to him. I need to ignore the “she’s-so-over-protective” eye-rolling of another mom who offers my child a glass of orange juice. Not everyone realizes that some brands of juice and yogurt are supplemented with fish oil. I need to be gracious when I receive lip balm with almond oil in it for Christmas. Not everyone is as vigilant in reading labels of everyday items as I am. I need to be less defensive and more assertive when someone tells me I’m too paranoid. Not everyone has experienced being sorry instead of safe.
May contain nuts? Maybe. Maybe not. But I'm opting for safe rather than sorry.

Friday, June 8, 2012

The Road to Emmaus

The Road to Emmaus

Upon registering at our conference – “Walking in the Moment” (Ecclesiastical Province of Rupertsland Synod – if you’re not Anglican, and maybe even if you are, you just might have to google this... I don’t think I’m going to get around to explaining the organization of the Anglican Church of Canada in this installment) we were encouraged to blog about our experience this weekend. The theme comes from Luke 24:13-35 – The Road to Emmaus. To me this story illustrates the proverbial “aha” moments in one’s life. The disciples didn’t understand why Jesus died, why the supposed Messiah wasn’t the King, until a “stranger” explained God’s redemptive plan to them.

As we read this passage today we want to yell to them, “I know the end of the story - pay attention! Open your eyes!! That stranger is Jesus! It’s Him!!!” Finally they do get it... yes hindsight is often 20/20. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road...?” (Luke 24:32 NRSV) How many times do we only clue in after the fact that God was with us during a difficult journey in our life? Or a confusing time. Or a scary place. Or an ordinary day.  Jacob said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” (Genesis 28:16 NLT) Eureka! The lightbulb goes on!!

A few years ago I broke my foot. Bad injuries should really be accompanied by good stories. Not this one. I wasn’t skiing or skateboarding or hiking or horseback riding. My foot got tangled in a phone cord and I tripped. But did I ever do a number on my foot – surgery and screws and nerve damage and crutches for months. It was a nasty break. I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t pick up my toddler. It was a momentous task just to get downstairs, let alone try to do laundry.  A whole bunch of other things were seemingly falling apart. I was in pain and I was cranky and I was really feeling sorry for myself. And I was mad at God.

One day I was driving to town (awkwardly), wallowing in self-pity and probably scowling. I felt like God was so far away. He was an idea. A memory. As I dwelt on the distance of God I turned on the radio. This is what I heard:
“I'm with you. If you believe in me, I'll believe in you. In the loneliest place you've ever been
I'm with you.”
 (I’m With You – The Stills.)


Fine, I thought sarcastically, God, so you’re with me. But I can’t feel you. Believe in you? I do – in my head, but in my heart? It’s too broken right now. And I’m still mad at you.


Then I thought, what am I talking about? This is not a song about God – this is the cheesy local radio station! This is some sappy Top 40 love song... they even use it in a beer commercial! Whatever.  I put God far away again and I went back to dwelling on my misfortune – angry and anxious.
“Breathe, just breathe, take the world off your shoulders and put it on me. I need you to hear me say  ‘Breathe, just breathe,’” (Breathe – Ryan Star)

Are you kidding me?! I almost drove off the road – this was EXACTLY what I needed to hear right now. I needed to stop holding my breath, waiting for something else bad to happen. I needed to let go and let God... so I took a deep breath... But is this really God talking to me? That’s crazy... isn’t it? I had never heard this song before, but I certainly needed to hear it now. Hmmm...
I eventually got to town and slowly and painfully did my errands. By the time I was finished, God was back in a box in a remote shelf of my mind and I was grumpy and sore and well, it’s just not fair.

Driving home I decided to take the back gravel roads. I meandered around the farm fields and metaphorically shook my fist at the universe and everyone in it. The radio has been on since I left town, but I didn’t hear it until now:
“And the tears come streaming down your face. Could it be worse? Lights will guide you home. And ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” (Fix You – Coldplay)

That was it. I pulled over and absolutely bawled... God was speaking to me through the Peace River radio station. He was using rock music to reach his hand out to me. Maybe He really was with me. Maybe He had been with me the whole time.


The disciples were walking down the road – depressed, confused, disappointed. And they were walking beside Jesus! How could they be so blind? He was right there beside them! How could they be so self-absorbed? So selfish? How could they not see that Jesus was victoriously walking alongside them?! How could they not know?

Wow. The scaIes fell from my eyes. How could I not know? My heart burned within. Jesus was walking beside me too. Yes, victoriously. I totally expected to see Jesus around the corner, cooking up some fish and breaking bread for me. I would’ve gotten out of the truck and ran over to say to Him, “I’m sorry.” And eat His bread.  So I guess that’s what I did.

I wasn’t exactly walking to Emmaus. And I realized that the journey was just as important as the “aha” moment. The journey can feel very lonely and hard, and sometimes the presence of the Lord is very subtle. And we are often better with thunder from Heaven messages than subtle and gentle companionship. Was I even trying to hear the still small voice?

My foot was still broken. And I was still prone to wandering off into self-pity. But I was not alone. Jesus was walking beside me. Always. Even when I was on crutches. And yes, like the famous footprints, when it was too hard for me to walk He carried me.

To this day my foot is changed. My gait has changed. My arch is different. My bones are crooked and my nerves are damaged. My walk with God has not only spiritually but literally and physically changed. And now my arthritic foot throbs, perhaps in rhythm with the heartbeat of Christ in me. Like Jacob’s hip after his wrestle with God, I have a physical reminder of my relationship and journey with my Father.

The Lord spoke to me when I desperately needed to hear Him. He opened my eyes when I  drastically needed to see Him. He told me He wants me to breathe. And He is with me. And He will fix me. Thanks be to God.
“Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him… The Lord has risen indeed!!” (Luke 24:31, 34 NRSV)
“People say I’m strange, does it make me a stranger...” (Jesus Freak – Newsboys)






Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Caterpillars


And so begins the first road trip of the season – this curious season of late spring/ almost summer in northern Alberta in which you can have a heat wave or a snowstorm depending on the day. Endless possibilities. This particular drive looks to be about 3200 kilometres return. Peace River, AB to Brandon MB and back again. I am glad to have Joanna along as co-pilot. I am of the belief that driving across the Prairies is best done with a lead-foot, and that is usually not a problem for me, but lately I am finding myself driving like a farmer... one-handed, head-out-window, tractor-speed on the highway. Alas, I have now lived in Alberta for 11 years, and on an acreage for 6 years, and I do fancy myself a dandelion farmer, but these are not the reasons for the peculiar driving. The culprit? Caterpillars.  
Malacosoma disstria. Forest tent caterpillars. These prolific little swarmers are quickly devouring most everything green in the Peace River region. We knew they were coming... the advance guard was doing reconnaissance in my raspberry patch last summer. And forest swaths south of here were under attack. I am morbidly fascinated by these rapacious eaters. As I drive into town, heading north into the Peace River valley, I slow down to gaze up at the naked stands of trees... trees that were fully decked out with green leaves only a few days earlier. Sometimes I slow down to stare at the blackish road covered in squished up, dried up carcasses. Thankfully they are dead... I have heard stories of road closures because of slippery critter conditions. My husband shudders at the memory of riding his bike as a kid over caterpillar-covered roads... the smell & sound still fresh in his mind thirty-ish years later.
In town the first place to be decimated was Misery Mountain Ski Hill. It was a double-whammy for that area – mountain pine beetles ravaged the area a few years ago. Hundreds of infected trees were cut down,  levelling the landscape.The local campground – The Pines – went from a forest oasis to a wide-open gravel pit.  Now the deciduous trees that are left are stripped bare of leaves. I keep thinking of Joel... After the cutting locusts finished eating the crops, the swarming locusts took what was left! After them came the hopping locusts, and then the stripping locusts...” Joel 1:4 NLT
Plagues have been on my mind for a while. Many times last summer as I stood in the middle of my garden the phrase “of Biblical proportions” came to mind. At times the grasshoppers were so thick that with every step I took hundreds leaped to low flight and crashed into my legs and into each other. Sometimes I would run through the field just to see the parting of the insect-sea... They stripped the bean and potato leaves clean, but thankfully it was late in the season and most harvesting had been done. And if insects did eat up all the plants in my garden, I could still drive to the grocery store and buy a tomato. From Mexico. I try to imagine what it is would have been like a hundred years ago to experience a true plague. Or to live in a third world country today in a time of drought.  It is hard to conceive of the reality as I live in a land with plenty of food, clean water, government infrastructure. Water bombers. Insecticides. But in my mostly cozy little corner of God usually-green earth, I have a decided fascination for the oddities and extremes of creation.

The summer of 2011 was certainly one for the books in northern Alberta in terms of natural disasters (I prefer the term phenomenon – the events of nature are not in themselves disasters... but that is a discussion for another time.) As we tried to head southeast to my in-laws place on Baptiste Lake, we were alternately road-blocked by fire and flood. Our route takes us through Slave Lake – a town now infamous for losing a large portion of itself to a forest fire. One attributed to human cause, and spread by unusually high winds and dry conditions. Incredibly there was only one fatality related to the fire. After the clean-up was underway, and the media coverage of the relief effort and the subsequent visit of William & Kate died down, the much-needed rain came. And came. Lakes and rivers overflowed. The highway flooded. So did some of the gutted lots in town ready for construction. When it rains it pours...

And so I drive slowly... wondering if my forest will be entirely gone when I return in a week, watching the fireweed spring up below the stubble of charred spruce, looking for bird nests and caterpillar tents in the branches of the poplars, searching for the beetle-red needles of the pines, looking for dry creek beds and flooded farmers’ fields.
And I think of Joel. Begging his people to change. God will give you back what you lost! And so much more! And I pray. And I thank God for the wonder of His creation, and His mercy. And I smile. And I might just speed up.

 “That is why the LORD says, “Turn to me now, while there is time. Give me your hearts.
Come with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Don’t tear your clothing in your grief, but tear your hearts instead.” Return to the LORD your God, for he is merciful and compassionate,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.  He is eager to relent and not punish. Who knows? Perhaps he will give you a reprieve, sending you a blessing instead of this curse...Surely the LORD has done great things! Don’t be afraid, my people. Be glad now and rejoice, for the LORD has done great things. Don’t be afraid, you animals of the field, for the wilderness pastures will soon be green. The trees will again be filled with fruit; fig trees and grapevines will be loaded down once more. Rejoice, you people of Jerusalem! Rejoice in the LORD your God! For the rain he sends demonstrates his faithfulness. Once more the autumn rains will come, as well as the rains of spring. The threshing floors will again be piled high with grain, and the presses will overflow with new wine and olive oil. The LORD says, “I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. Once again you will have all the food you want, and you will praise the LORD your God..”
Joel 2: 12-14, 20-26 NLT