Incognito Mosquito

   Poor Megan.  That's what we always say when we see her get bit by a mosquito.  Poor Megan.  Poor her.  Take what the average person experiences with a simple bite - a little redness, some itchiness, probably annoyance - and multiply that reaction by 5,000 and you've got yourself a Megan-reaction: a few hours of redness, then swelling, then more swelling, then some crusting over, then swelling in areas of your body that were no where near the original bite, then, even more swelling.  Not to mention the itchiness and general discomfort that comes along with losing function of a limb, some digits, or maybe even an eye.
   Yes, poor Megan.  Since she was just about a year old, my sweet little girl has been plagued with an unknown immunodeficiency that we just can't put a finger on.  It started as some strange outbreaks of hives on random parts of her body, and then it would slowly spread - and each time this would happen, I would take her in to the doctor's office.  She endured many visits to the clinic, many many throat swabs, and countless rounds of antibiotics.  The first time they told us she had Strep, so they prescribed amoxicillin and her symptoms vanished.  But sure enough, the hives would start again....either on her arm, forehead, or her body, and each time, the treatment was antibiotics.

   Then one day, she exploded into the worst anaphylactic reaction I'd ever seen - my little girl was unrecognizable as her whole body filled like a giant puff ball, both eyes swollen shut and her limbs barely fitting in her clothes.  I prayed and prayed as she wheezed the whole way to the ER and Andy even rushed home from Syracuse that evening to care for her the next day.  We were told by one physician that they suspected Kawasaki disease, a rare auto-immune disorder more common in Asian children, but the ER doctor apparently ruled that out and told us she had a penicillin allergy and treated her with steroids and Clindamycin.  
   It never got that bad again, but Megan made routine emergency trips to the clinic at least once a month after that incident.  At one point the doctor told me she had MRSA (methicillin-resistant Staph aureus), at another, mastocytosis (mast cell dysfunction).  At Walter Reed her case became the excitement of the infectious disease and allergy clinics, where doctors studied her like a monkey with 6 arms, referring back to their books and bringing in new people to consult with.  Last June, she had some weird lesions in her mouth that prevented her from drinking or eating anything for 2.5 days...not quite sure if it was Hand-Foot-Mouth disease or if the hives just invaded her oral cavity, but I just never could quite figure all this out.  She had me - and all the docs - stumped.  Nothing could be confirmed, and thus began my long and frustrating journey to discovering what it was exactly that was harming my child.

Just hours before her full-body swelling reaction

1 day post-steroids to reduce the inflammation

   We made several visits to Walter Reed, and the allergist there was skeptical about testing a child so young.  He nodded like he really cared and listened to us, and even gave long, drawn-out explanations for things I felt were irrelevant to why we were there in the first place.  He told us to take a log of what foods she was eating, but I knew in my heart that this was not the problem because I'd been doing that for months by then and no common triggers could be found.
   It became a regular thing for Megan to develop some weird rash at school, and her teacher would often text me pictures of it before I would text back, "Yes, please, 2.5ml of Benedryl, thank you."  I just hated having to medicate the kid like that.  But bless her school teachers for understanding that she wasn't infectious towards other kids....otherwise Megan would be well on her way to earning herself a DDS for how many times she would have had to accompany me to class.

Random hives at school

More random hives at school

   This year we discovered that Megan has some serious bad reactions to bug bites - mosquitos namely.  Just recently she got bit near her eyebrow, and her entire left face swelled to where she could not even open her eye any longer.  Andy nicknamed her QuasiMegan.

 
   Supposedly it's called "Skeeter Syndrome" - bad allergy to mosquito bites - and although I don't believe that was the original cause for all those outbreaks in her past, I definitely agree that she exhibits signs and symptoms of having this disease.  As if we needed confirmation, just two days ago she was bit again by a mosquito (yes, we definitely covered her in mosquito repellent and it still happened) - in exactly the same location, and sure enough her face began swelling with no signs it was going to go down on its own.  So we headed to the urgent care clinic yesterday and got her treated with a steroid shot - again - and today, she is doing much better.

Megan checking out her pulse ox

   Sometimes I feel like I'm peddling backwards trying to figure things out - I have researched hours and hours on the internet, in my textbooks, in my classroom lectures - and it's nearly impossible to piece everything together.  I even reviewed the inflammatory cascade pathways of all the mediators and factors that play a role in bringing about the reactions, as if that would magically bring a diagnosis into my mind.  I'm not sure if it's one specific disorder, or if it's multiple things acting together to make it present the way it does, or if this is the type of inflammation that studies have shown previews before signs of autism.  I'm not sure how serious her immune system is failing her, or if she just has super-freakishly hyperactive mast cells that she'll one day outgrow.
  BUT - and this is a big "but" - I do know one thing.  And that is - hands down, my Megan is one brave little champ.  She has endured so many needle sticks, pokes, prods - and has reacted well to various problems ranging the entire spectrum of the "happy / sad face" pain chart.  Just yesterday when she received her shot, we were told by nurse Lauren that Megan was her "best patient ever. Seriously." Meg just sat there, took her shot, barely glancing down at her leg where the injection was - then sat up and happily accepted her popsicle reward.  Lauren was super impressed, as was I.  Despite her random flare-ups - and some are really, REALLY bad - Megan has been surprisingly herself most of the time.
   Cheerful, carefree, and totally untroubled by these slight nuisances that have disturbed her early life.

QuasiMegan enjoying a bike ride

Enjoying her Pedia-sure popsicle

   Hopefully one day we'll get down to the bottom of this - it may be a while, but in the meantime, may we just say how very proud we are of our sweet little Meggie!  Hang tough, Champ!

Fitting In.

   On Wednesday night, I packed up all my triathlon gear, bike, and camping stuff and loaded it into the back of Andy's car and took off for the 2 day drive up to Burlington, VT (overnight stop @ Mom's).  I had made a last minute decision to sign up for the USA Triathlon National Championships after realizing that this may be my only chance (who knows if I'll ever qualify again?), so with the hubby's unfailing support to take a little "me" time, I paid the $150 registration fee in early June and officially made it my "A" race for the season.
   The trip up was fairly uneventful and I made it up to the quaint little town by 1pm on Thursday.  Earlier that day when I rolled up at my first rest stop in VT, I could feel all eyes on me as I pulled up Andy's shiny BMW in between two tractors parked in the service area.  I knew I (being Asian) and the car (being non-tractor) looked a bit out of place and I initially shrugged it off despite my general distaste of feeling like the oddball in any setting.  I had made reservations at the North Beach Campground (for $26/night to avoid the ridiculous $300 per night stay at the host hotel Sheraton), but when I arrived there to set up my tent, I got the same feeling that I was just going to have to endure a bit more glares from the RV dwellers and other campers nearby.  As I pitched my tent (perfectly, by the way) I whistled to Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger" while pretending I wasn't paying any attention to my neighbor who apparently was struggling with his tent as he flipped it upside down, inside out, and finally got another dude to help him out.  I could feel the eyes on my back as I unpacked my gear - I could only assume they were wondering what business an Asian gal had driving a Beemer to come rough it out in the woods.

It doesn't look that out of place, does it?

   I should have realized then that this was just the start to a big testing session of my willpower to control the manifestations of my minor social anxiety problem.  There, I said it.  Yeah, I have a bit of a problem when it comes to social (or in this case, non-social) settings where I feel like balling into a corner of the room (or forest) and recoil from all human kind when I feel the slightest bit discomfort and suddenly feel like I don't belong.  Sound a little dramatic?  Probably a little exaggerated, but still, I've always been like that and over the years I've learned how to fake the funk and just go with it. 

  As soon as I walked into the race expo at the Sheraton, I realized I made a major triathlete faux pas when I looked down and saw I was still wearing what I traveled in (yellow T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops).  My hand instinctively reached for my head where, to my disappointment, I found my Old Navy sunglasses perched up on top instead of my racing glasses that would have at least slightly legitimized my attendance.  Yes, as I glanced around, the familiar scene set in to mind of all the other major expo's I'd attended - left and right, athletes whizzed by me, making it very clear that they were athletes and not just regular hotel meeting attendees, or tourists, or staff.  As if the gorgeous interior design of the Sheraton wasn't intimidating enough, the entrance to the expo ballroom was lined with tables of freshly squeezed lemonade drinks and a buffet of finger foods.  Of course I helped myself to some, but not before doing a quick 360 to make sure no one was watching.  Which later, I told myself was a ridiculous paranoia on my part.  What were they going to say? Hey, YOU! Snacks ONLY for people who spent $300 to stay here tonight. You dirty camper find your food elsewhere!"

Rooms at the Sheraton overlooking the indoor pool/spa.

This is where MY party's at. 

   So anyway, needless to say my stay was very short - I checked out my number, picked up my race packet and shirt, did one walk around the vendors, and shot out of the hotel (of course after helping myself to seconds).  I wanted to stay and utilize their free wi-fi and plug-in my phone to charge it up, but I decided I'd save that for the next day.

   After driving the bike course and admiring the mansions in Southeast Burlington, I settled in for run and admired the scenery.  This place was absolutely stunning.  I had started running around 7:15pm, and by then the sun was starting to go down.  I stopped by the transition area by the waterfront and was in awe.  New England was truly a beautiful place, I got caught up just sitting there watching the sun go down.  I felt completely at peace and forgot about how awkward I had been feeling before, that is, until a little kid passed me with his Grandma and asked her, "Hey look, Grandma! I saw a Chinese person!"

View of transition area from the top of the hill (that we have to run up!)

Start point for the swim 

Lake Champlain in all its beauty

   I met two guys that were camping next to me that evening - Paul and Josh.  We had some friendly chit-chat over the race, and since they both had competed the year before, I had a lot to ask about the course.  They had some good advice to give me, and I really appreciated it, and they even offered to join me for a bike ride the next day when I told them I was thinking about riding parts of it to get familiar with it.  Then the conversation went something like this:

   Josh: "Hey, so if you want some company, let us know, we know the route."
   Me: "Yeah sure.  So you guys fast?  What are your goals for this race anyway?"
   Paul: "Oh, well, I'd like to break 2 hours. I came in 3rd last year so maybe I'll win this year."
   Josh: "I just came back from that week long cruise so really, as long as I qualify again for Worlds this time, I'll be happy.  What about you?"
   Me:  Gulp.  "Oh, wow...WOW...alright.  Yeah, wahoo! Goals.  Awesome thing....awesome.  Yeah um.  Dang you know what?  I'm really tired so I'm gonna hit the hay...and I may be really tired tomorrow so that ride might not happen....ya' know....cuz I'm gonna kill it on race day...gotta save up...for...that...." Exit to Site #128 and zipper myself away.

   The next day, Friday, I set out with an early morning drive (in a vehicle) of the bike course while listening to my book-on-tape and munching on my Dunkin Donuts Meal #6 (Veggie flatbread).  Then I headed back to the campsite where coincidentally, they were holding the practice swim at North Beach.  It was supposed to start at 11, but by the time I got there at 11:05, parking was already quite limited and there were already 100+ people there suited up and in the water.  Once again, as I grabbed my stuff and started towards the beach, I suddenly felt the butterflies in my stomach again.  Now that everyone was in their bathing suits, I started feeling the self-consciousness set in as I looked around to see all the women with their rock solid bodies in 2-piece work out bathing suits, sporting their "TEAM USA" bottoms obviously to show the rest of the world that they were better than its other substandard inhabitants (and they were, so that's cool).  Others wore swim caps from their most prized triathlon experience....I saw a bunch of "IRONMAN", "Escape from Alcatraz", and other big name race swim caps, so of course I searched my bag and found my "Iron Girl" cap.  No one has to know it's actually a sprint...

Practice Swim

   As I showered after my short swim, I decided to head back to the expo because I really didn't get to see some of the things I wanted to see.  And this time, I was going to face my fear head on and spend as much time as I wanted there, dangit.  So I pulled my hair in a tight pony, found myself one of my old tri shirts (Philly at that...I cursed myself for leaving my 70.3 at home), donned my bike shorts (even though I was not biking), put on some sneakers and headed back to the expo.  And just in case there was still a question about it, I brought my race goody bag I'd received the day prior to sling around my shoulder.
   After walking around the expo and realizing I didn't have the money to buy a new bike or sign up for Ironman Miami, I decided to charge my phone and sit there, and do what I truly enjoy doing: people-watching.  And it was there that I realized that this feeling that I had harvested inside - of feeling completely insecure - was absolutely, 100%, down-right hilarious.  I watched as I saw a team of old 70+ year old ladies wheel their $4000 TT bikes in through the doors....the disc wheels rhythmically clicking, alternating with the tap-taps of their cleats bearing feet that were dressed in neon compression socks.  Each had on those ridiculous megaman helmets with the face shield attached to it, reminding me of the traditional Army pilot helmets and making me wonder if wearing them made them feel like they were so badass that they didn't realize they were 70.  I saw a couple come through the automatic doors with duffle bags and giant bike cases, of course covered with stickers "26.2", "13.1", "70.3", "140.6", "I TRI", "Swim, Bike Run."  They clearly came straight from the airport yet they were both wearing cooling arm sleeves, tri visors and spandex shorts.  I wanted to tell them they were "TRI-ing" too hard to let people know they were here for a race, and maybe they should put a sticker with their names on those cases because surely "Threesome?", while funny, would not give me a clue as to who to contact if I found this case on the side of the road.  I listened to small sideline conversations about the challenging bike ride at the Lake Placid Ironman, and other random people jumping in with "Oh the course was much tougher when I did it 4 years ago...."and I desperately wanted to interrupt with "Hey did you guys go bobsledding?  I missed it when I went because it closes at 6."  I saw proud parents, grandparents, and probably some second-cousins with custom T-shirts with "GO JOHN GO! SWIM, BIKE, RUN!! WE LOVE YOU!!"  And it made me wonder how much they saved if they bought wholesale instead of just individual shirts, and if it was one size fits all.  I noticed the older guys liked to wear sleeveless shirts to show off their Ironman logo tattoos, while the ladies often selected old race shirts from many, many years ago (my guess to show how long they've been in the sport).  I saw Garmin watches on wrists, people chompin' on GU Energy tablets, numerous jerseys with emblems indicating sponsorships, compression socks, fancy transition bags with buttons, stickers, and hanging stick figures swimming, biking, and running.  The list went on and on and on, and at the end of it all, I just sat there and laughed to myself.
   Why I had felt like such an idiot before was just beyond me.  Was I jealous?  Maybe.  I wish I could eat Hammer Gel for lunch and be satisfied with that.  I wish I was built like an Olympian and yes, I wish I could wear butt-padded spandex shorts to the grocery store and not feel the slightest bit self-aware of it.  Yeah, I could use another pair of compression socks and maybe I'll go with green this time, and I could use another battery in my dying Garmin.  But really, as I racked my bike later that day, and just looked at it staring right back at me, I realized something kind of funny.

  There was my bike, all by itself on a rack that would, in just minutes, be filled with thousands more surrounding it.  It is, at the bare bones, the basic model with no fancy upgrades or components, carried by the stock manufactured wheels.  As I looked back at this picture, it made me laugh because I knew I would come back the next day and struggle to find it amongst the sea of other fantastic bikes.  As a matter of fact, there are ton of the same bikes out there, just with different components and more expensive accessories.  But it doesn't take away the fact that this is still a bike - MY bike - one that I love just the way it is with nothing else added to it, one that supposedly my husband thought I earned when he bought it for me to replace my Trek roadbike.  I could care less what kind of wheels are on it, or what pedals are on there.  Even with my Trek, knowing that it was simpler than the others around it, I always knew that it is my hard work and effort that went into making it go faster, and I took pride in that whenever I passed anyone on a tri bike.
   I know it sounds cheesy, but before I left it there for the night, I patted it on its aerobar head and told it to not worry.  It may be alone for a little while, but not to get lonely.  Because when all the other bikes show up and it feels maybe not good enough just because it doesn't have fancy wheels, it's perfect enough for me.  And as I walked away and snapped this picture, I realized that I don't have to have anything fancy either...and as long as I do my part to do my very best, I'm perfect enough for me too.

A Good Memory in the Making

   When it comes to child-rearing, I'm afraid that the Chung clan has recently experienced a string of misfortunate events that has led to numerous scoldings, time-outs, and the much-dreaded 벌 ("buhl" - i.e. "arms up for an indefinite period of time.")  Of course, this is not something new as it tends to come and go in phases, but as the girls have gotten older and much smarter, the challenges upon the parents has also become significantly (and exponentially) more difficult as well.
   It started with the generic "not listening" phase, which includes not responding to their names, not answering when asked a question, and most irritating, not doing what they've been asked to do.  Then it expanded to "not listening to things they've known not to do", such as coloring on the walls, coloring on the couches, and taking sheets and sheets of stickers and placing them all over the house.  The final straw came one morning when I woke up (albeit, slept in) to hear my usually calm husband scream, "OH MY GOD!! KAYLEE CHUNG!!  People go to SCHOOL to learn how to cut hair!!! Did YOU got to SCHOOL to learn that?!? I don't THINK so!!"  Yes, my children had just gotten their pretty hair cuts the day before at the salon (costing me $30), only for them to become inspired to play Barber on each other the very next morning.
   That was a rough day for us - all of us.  The girls spent most of the afternoon staring at each other in their time out chairs with their arms over their heads, tear-streaked faces with one of them half-covered with her latest new short bangs.  As I sat there and reflected, feeling completely betrayed by my oldest daughter who 'knows better' and filled with anxiety with the thought that my youngest may actually be totally brainless (letting her sister have scissors that close to her head) - I realized deep down, it must be me.  After all, I've been saying "no this, no that, not today, don't do that...." All these NO's surely must be a factor of my laziness to reward good behavior, and so I decided I needed to revamp my system.  I put my Family CEO hat on and started to brainstorm ways to incentivize my children to behave, and moreso, to respect their boss's requests.  Ultimately, I don't want my kids to have any bad memories of their childhood when it comes to the fierceness of their punishments.
   We set some goals - I spent 6 hours making a new reward chart for their music lessons and planned practicing sessions, signed them up for a kids fun race, brainstormed some more "grand prizes" for their Behavior Board, bought new packs of "First Time Obedience Mints", and then sat down to talk to them about some of the things they have to look forward to with these new goals.
  
   Just this past weekend, I think I hit the jackpot.  Or, should I say, Kaylee hit the jackpot.  We have been trying to get her to swim across a 25m pool for some time now in order for her to be eligible to try out for the swim team.  I told her that I'd take her to a Build-A-Bear Workshop if she did the swim, and two days later she swam across a 20-yard pool at her swim lesson.  I told her she was getting close, and that we could go to FT Meade, where her swim team try-outs would be next month, and give it a shot.
   I wasn't really too hopeful that she'd do it - I didn't want to push her because I know she has some fear of the deep end, and the pool at FT Meade is actually really deep.  As much as I want her to be on the swim team for financial reasons (swim lessons are SO expensive!), I really had no intention of forcing the swim upon her.  If she wanted to try, then cool.  If not, she'd do it when she was ready.  She tried swimming from the deep end a few times and would stop and get flustered right at the halfway mark, so I turned it into a swim lesson and we tried different strokes and had some fun with it.  Finally after about an hour, Andy got us a lane to ourselves and he said something to her like "OK now you're going to swim from the deep end to here" - and she refused at first - and then he said something about the Build-A-Bear and she immediately got out of the pool ran around it to the deep end, and met me there as I told her I would be in the water right in front and facing her if she needed me. 
   The next 45 seconds (or was it a minute or two?) were pretty amazing.  I treaded water facing my daughter, who dove into the deep end and began her freestyle stroke towards me. I inched farther and farther back as she came towards me, and with each passing meter I would think, "She's got this!"  I was so surprised when we passed the half way mark, and then when I got to the shallow end where I could stand, I knew she was going to do it.  It's one of those "magical" moments that I feel so blessed to have been witness to in my daughter's life.  She grabbed the wall on the shallow end and came up with all-smiles, her little eyes beaming through her foggy goggles.  

   So that afternoon, Kaylee and I had a special date to the Build-A-Bear workshop in Columbia.  She picked out the most colorful bear against all my efforts to divert her to a more normal looking creature, and enjoyed every minute of this experience.

Kaylee picks out her bear.

Holding it while waiting in line to get it stuffed.

Kaylee steps on the pedal to start the stuffing machine.

Fascinated that her bear is getting filled.

Warming up the little red heart with her hands and later gives it a kiss. 

Puts the heart inside the bear before tying it up.

Bathtime for the bear!

Scrub a dub dub.

Picked out an outfit for her bear and heads to computer station to "register" the bear and obtain her "birth certificate".

Bear is in her home and Kaylee carries her out of the mall.

Outside, we dress the bear in her bathing suit and sandals.

Welcome to the family, Katie Bear Chung.

   Since Katie Bear has come home, she has played a very special role in Kaylee's life.  It probably won't last long, but she has joined us for every meal, been present for all our car rides, and spent each night in Kaylee's bed.  
   I asked Kaylee what made her keep going in the pool that last time instead of stopping, and she told me: "Well, I wanted to stop but when I looked up and saw the end, I knew I could do it. And if I stopped, then I wouldn't get my bear."  If my shoulder didn't hurt so much (injury), I would have patted myself on the back for thinking of such a great incentive.  I know this isn't about me, but I can't help but be happy with myself for thinking of something POSITIVE that actually worked in getting my kid to do something great.  Now, for the next prize - I told her that if she actually makes the swim team, then we'd go back to the Workshop and buy Katie Bear a new outfit.  As for Megan, she'll get a bear when she does her swim lesson and sits still the whole half hour.  That may be a while.
   
   The next time Kaylee does that swim for the try-outs, I know I won't be in there with her.  I don't know if me being there helped at all, but I'm sure at some degree it was comforting for her to know that she had a safety net.  For a moment while I was in the water with Kaylee, I was brought back to my own childhood when I was about 4 or so - and there is a distinct memory I have of my first time swimming to the shallow end from the deep end.  I was on the diving board and my father was facing me, and he told me to jump in and claimed that he would catch me.  Instead, he inched farther and farther back as soon as I jumped in, making me swim towards him, until I reached the other side and grabbed the wall.  I remember feeling panicked when I realized he wasn't going to catch me, and I still recall that fear turning to courage when I also realized my dad would not let me drown.  I remember seeing the little light under water, and thinking to myself "Just keep swimming and then I can stand."  When I think of that moment, I admit I get a little teary-eyed because I remember that day so well in my early life - it's one of the best memories I have of my dad.  The difference between now and then is that my dad tricked me into swimming, and Kaylee actually has an identifiable stroke.  But nevertheless, I'm thinking she's old enough to remember this for the rest of her life - and maybe, I'm hoping - I'll be a big part of that happy memory.