Health


We occasionally get asked the question, “Since brown eggs cost more at the grocer, are they more nutritious?” The answer is “NO!” Commercial egg producers often try to set apart eggs with labels like “free-range” or “cage-free” by having brown egg laying hens. They look different, so, to the average consumer, they must be different, right? It’s just a brilliant marketing ploy, and nothing more.

I was making deviled eggs the other day, and thought it was a good example. Notice in my photo, I have all sorts of colored eggs….brown, white, cream, tan, green, bluish, speckled, you name it! The color is only tinting and only on the outside of the shell. In fact, if you scrub, most of the tint will come off! Once peeled, you can’t tell the difference. Even the yolks look the same. The grey on the outer edge of my yolks simply means I steamed them a bit too long.

pigs-2-1

Now, I should mention that there ARE differences in the make-up of different type of poultry eggs.  For example, a duck egg is well known for being better for baking, while a turkey egg has a milder flavor.  Like chickens, however, the differences in nutritional content have nothing to do with color of these birds or their eggs, but everything to do with diet and management factors.  In fact, to my knowledge all turkey eggs are the same color, as those birds haven’t been so carefully selected for egg tint like chickens have.

So there you have it. An egg is only as nutritious as the hen’s diet. If you want more nutritious eggs, buy from a pastured poultry supplier….whether it be chicken, duck, turkey, or whatever.  Even in winter, we give our hens leafy green hay to keep up their chlorophyll intake, which contributes to those nice looking yolks and healthy omega-3 fatty acids.

Advertisements

Winter of 2014/2015 proved to be a challenging one for us.  It was a rough winter to begin with–bitter cold, with little snow.  We had to cancel several of our scheduled carriage ride events due to the bitter, frostbite-inducing chill, which was a little hit from a financial standpoint.  The ground was often iced over, preventing conductivity of our electric fences and risking bad slip/falls for the horses on our pasture slopes.  As a result, we spent much of our time hibernating from the chill, trying to homeschool and get some indoor projects completed.

One day, we finally got a bit of snow, and it was warm enough (finally in the double digits!), so the kids decided to go sled.  Somehow, while inspecting the kids’ sledding attire–coat, check! gloves, check!  hat, check!–I missed the fact that R was wearing tennis shoes with no socks, rather than socks and snow boots.  I decided to take the opportunity to work the horses.

I had just gotten finished plowing snow and unharnessing the horses, when I heard a blood-curdling scream from R.  About that time, I heard N say, “Her foot looks like Nick’s knee!” (referring to Nick’s injury, posted here).  S and I came running at the same time, and by the time we arrived to the sledding area, R was already up and walking, well, limping, toward the house.  A quick inspection proved that this was definitely worthy an E.R. visit.

Many hours later, we returned home, not much worse off than before.  It was determined that, in some freak way, while sledding, R had collided with a post, which wouldn’t have been all bad except that her body had slid forward, and the wooden corner of the sled had somehow wedged its way up inside her tennis shoe.  The edge, blunt as it was, somehow managed to literally filet the top of her foot off by several inches.  Thankfully, all parts were still there, and there was no ligament or tendon damage.  The doc cleaned it up, sutured the skin back together, and she was ordered to stay of her feet for a couple of days.  By the time the sutures came out the following week, the scar was the only sign of the trauma of that day.

ruth-1

Remember I said it was an icy winter?  Well, one day a month or so prior, we had an issue with the truck and trailer sliding down an icy hill and jackknifing.  The horses were used to pull it out of it’s quandary, which was a pretty impressive feat, by the way!  It was a Chevy 2500 pickup, in a very tight space, on ice, and the horses with their studded traction shoes, pulled that thing right out!

truck-1-2

The incident, however, resulted in our forecart (the red work cart we hitch to the horses) having to be shoved over the nearby hill to get the truck free.  We didn’t get much of a break, when, a few weeks later, the weather finally improved enough to work the horses again.   First, I needed to get my forecart out of it’s quandary.  What happened next is a really long story, containing a few not-so-great decisions on our part, and involved chaining the rear of the forecart (the exposed area) to the horses and having the horses pull it up the hill.  Theoretically, the idea should have worked, but the worst decision was turning the brake off, which in turn allowed the wheels to turn freely.  This creates an unstable mass (in S’s engineering terminology!).  When you combine an unstable mass with a certain horse we had at the time who had a lot of “GO!” and very little “WHOA!”……..well, we set ourselves up for trouble!  I, as the driver, was safely positioned uphill.  S, on the other hand, was safely out of the way until the horse sped up, the forecart became unstable and flipped quickly through the air, and S found himself trapped in a corner.  He attempted to go the only open direction he had—straight up!  This act (and a whole lot of God’s protection!) probably saved his life, but nonetheless, the roughly 500-lb forecart caught him mid-jump, scooped him up, flipped over with him and on him several times, and then dragged him up a hill.  Mind you this all took mere seconds before I got the team stopped, but when it was over, we were all shaken.  I had seen it all happen out of the corner of my eye, and feared my husband was dead.  I had no choice but to stop the horses, who were slightly spooked at this point, before they bolted and created havoc on who-knows-what-and-whom.  Once they stopped, I looked over toward S, and he gave our long-time sign of a raised hand to signal he was still alive and at least partly functioning.  This gave me the time I needed to get the horses untangled and secured, while yelling instructions to the children on how to help their father.  As soon as I could, I ran to S and my medical training kicked into high gear.  I checked him over, looking for major breaks and areas of pain.  He seemed beat up, but mostly OK, except for a very-rapidly-swelling foot and some blood coming out of his ear (not really a good thing).  We assumed he might have head trauma and the foot was severely damaged, based on the fact that something had sliced through both his boot AND his sock, though interestingly the foot itself wasn’t cut.  I ran back over, got the horses put away, called my mother-in-law to come babysit, and loaded S for the E.R.  We live in one of those remote areas where sometimes it’s a better option to drive to the E.R. than to wait for the ambulance!  Poor S was wincing in pain at every bump, railroad track, and turn we made.  He hung in there, and we finally arrived.  I ran in to tell the E.R. staff about his situation, and surprisingly, it was as if they were expecting him!  A whole trauma team ran outside with a gurney, got him onto the gurney, rushed him into the trauma room, and within an hour, he had x-rays, a CT scan, and was examined by the attending doc, a plastic surgeon, an orthopedist, and I forget who else.  By God’s amazing blessing, and an awesome E.R. staff, just 4 hours later, S hobbled out of the E.R., and headed home.  Turns out his ear lobe had been sliced, but his brain was fine.  His foot had some soft-tissue damage, but not a single break.  His torso was covered in scrapes and bruises from the gravel driveway, but nothing there was broken.  In fact, the only major damage was 3 fractures to his facial bones.  He was put on crutches and told to wear a boot for a few weeks to give his foot time to heal, as the crush was pretty significant.  In fact, he still suffers numbness from nerve damage almost 18 months later.

truck-1-3

I learned later how God had set everything into motion to take care of S, though.  As it turned out, just before our arrival, the E.R. had been notified of a severe car accident involving some major trauma.  There was some confusion, and they didn’t know details, but all the doctors and trauma team were ready to go, and the trauma room had been prepped.  When we arrived, they thought he was the car accident victim at first, hence the speedy intake.  Don’t worry, though, we didn’t endanger anyone else, as we found out later that in all the confusion, the other victim had been taken to a different hospital and our hospital had been mistakenly notified.   It all worked out for the best, just as our Lord promises!

This past 2 weeks, S decided he felt ready to switch roles again.  He wanted to take over farm work and let me go back to being mom, wife, cook, and so forth.  If you’ve followed for a while, you are likely aware that S ripped a tendon in both elbows.  We don’t know how he did it.  He literally woke up one morning with his arms hurting.  Nothing unusual had happened the day before, so he thought perhaps he had a touch of tendonitis.  I won’t repeat everything I posted previously, but suffice it to say, after 3 doctors and specialists and 2 physical and occupational therapists, his condition continued to worsen.  The medical professionals he spoke with all agreed that pain should be his guide.  One doctor told him not to lift over 20 lbs, and all said essentially, “If it hurts, don’t do it or you might tear the tendon completely from the bones.”  As time went on, the pain progressed to the point that he couldn’t do hardly anything.  JR had to tie his shoes for him, I had to button his shirts.  As his condition worsened, my work load increased.  Not only was I running the farm and lifting anything over 20 lbs (i.e. feed bags, hay bales, digging, shoveling, harnessing, firewood, you name it!), but as he worsened, I also had to take over more inside.  I had to strip beds for the younger kiddos, and remake all beds. S could still cook, but I had to move the pots around the kitchen for him. He was left basically cooking, doing light cleaning, and folding laundry.  His biggest task was homeschooling the kids, because it was about the only thing he could do that didn’t cause pain.  Talk about a rough few months!   Just think about everything you use your arms for!  At one point, I desperately needed help moving some hay.  S got resourceful to get the job done without using his arms:

IMG_2687

IMG_2690

He had to go and buy a pair of slip-on muck boots and avoid button-shirts, just so he could dress without assistance.  Brushing his teeth hurt.  We had to use our hard-earned savings to hire help to get tasks completed that I just couldn’t do alone.  You get the idea.

At wit’s end, S saw a new specialist.  We don’t know the guy’s full history, but he was an orthopedist who may have had some training in Chinese medicine.  In any case, he scoffed at the advice from all the other doctors and therapists.  He said basically, “Of course it’s gonna hurt!  You ripped two tendons, and everything is going to make it hurt!  For the next 6 months or so, you are going to be in pain, whether you use them or not.  So use them.  Don’t overuse them, and don’t do anything ridiculously strenuous.  Sharp pain is bad, but dull pain and general ashiness is fine and expected.  Work through it, and come back in 5 weeks.”  Crazy as it sounded, nothing else was working, so S decided to try it.  He started working, slowly at first, and gradually increasing.  At first there was pain, but amazingly, the pain began decreasing each day until it just wasn’t there.  A month in, he said he was ready to take over.  He is now using his chainsaw (on a limited basis), hauling things (still tries to keep weight under about 30 lbs.), and has taken over all outdoor chores.  He is even milking the goats to give me a break, which was impossible from the intense pain 2 months ago.

No, his tendon’s haven’t reattached.  We have a few theories, but ultimately, we have to give God credit for the healing that has happened.  S is careful not to overdo things, per the doctor’s advice, but he fully expected to deal with pain for the next 6 months or more.  Yet, it disappeared.  That cannot be explained.  The only time he has an issue now is if he works a bit too hard one day, then he might just have some slight discomfort/achiness at the end of the day.

firewood

S chainsawing logs, while JR and M use the log-splitter to turn the smaller logs into firewood. R and the little boys helped by stacking the firewood. A great afternoon of family team-work!

 

We have discussed the challenges we have faced over the last 6-8 months.  S feels strongly that God has been trying to teach us a few lessons and prune us into what He has in store.  Despite the challenges, it did force us to make some changes for the better.  We realized that all our children were plenty old enough to help out a little more.  We taught the youngest how to strip their beds on laundry day, and the oldest how to re-make their beds.  We bought a bedwetting system for A to help reduce the laundry, and although we are still going through the process, it seems to be working.  We changed chores around a bit to spread the load a little.  We expected a little more from the younger children, rather than having them play any time they weren’t in school.  We joined some great work exchange programs, which I will discuss later.  S even used some of his “free” time to become a bit of an activist on legislative issues around our state.  S values my house-work a bit more, and I have a new appreciation for the tremendous amount of work he does around the farm.  Certainly I had my moments of frustration, as did he.  However, if faced with the right attitude, we believe any challenge can teach us and grow us into better people.  It can improve communication and team work among a family.  And it can make us all stronger in the end.  We aren’t totally out of the storm yet, and still face some challenges, but things are looking up, and we hope this season is coming to an end.

I have noticed two things with men in general, my husband in particular.  First, they always have to act so tough.  Like they’re superman or something.  Second, the first only applies until they can’t.  Then, they make lousy patients.  Of course, they are lousy patients because they feel the need to act like superman.

Since S retired and moved in, he has worked non-stop around the farm.  We have had so many projects to get done, sometimes it felt like we were chasing our tails to accomplish them.  We made a lot of progress, but most days, I saw S for meals and that was about it.  He’s never been known to do things the easy way either.  For example, we have a log splitter.  It decorates the garage nicely.  He used an ax.  We have draft horses to pull things.  He’d use them if I was harnessing them up anyway, but he was just as happy to heave a full-length rail-road tie up and carry it somewhere.  Do you know how much those things weigh?!!  They are HUNDREDS of pounds, and he’s like 150 lbs!  If the animals needed water, I guess he thought it took too much time to use a hose and was too sissy to use a wagon for buckets.  Thus, he would carry two 5-gallon bucket fulls of water to the different troughs to fill them.  A bucket full weighs about 35-40 lbs.  I told him repeatedly to take it easy.  I needed him to last a lot longer.  He was going to hurt himself.  Blah, blah, blah, …you know, the usual wife stuff.   His mantra has always been, “Toughen Up!”

A week ago, he developed what we can only assume is Tennis elbow in BOTH arms.  No, he doesn’t play tennis.  Apparently all the bucket hauling, hay-heaving, rail-road tie lifting, feed-bag moving, log rolling, and so forth caught up to him and strained the tendons in both his elbows.  Now, he can hardly do anything without pain.

When he finally confessed and asked for help, I knew it had to be bad.  He still refuses to take an anti-inflammatory of any kind, but then again, he didn’t take anything but a tylenol after an old-fashioned appendectomy just because that’s who he is.  He also doesn’t sit still and let himself heal.

In any case, since his request, we have switched roles.  I have taken over the farm chores for a while, and he has taken over domestic duty.  I haul buckets (in a wagon), toss hay (a few flakes at a time), and don’t roll logs and heave rail-road ties.  It takes me twice as long to do chores, but I have to keep my elbows in tact.  He cooks, cleans, does laundry, and watches kiddos.  While I’m not sure my cast-iron skillets are much lighter than a bucket of water, slowly, but surely, his arms are feeling a little better.  Until he has to lift an injured child or shake someone’s hand.  Then he feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm.  As a reminder, I finally convinced him to wear a sling on the worst arm.  He finally obliged.  I think he feels guilty.

It’s definitely another challenge on the homestead.  I’m trying to be the good and supportive wife, because he did admit to needing help, after all.  After he’s all healed up, though, I think I’m going to have to find a special way to tease him and tell him “I told you so!”

Love ya, Honey!

Most people are familiar with diabetes, Type 1, Type 2, and gestational.  I think we have stumbled on a new type, though, and no one seems to understand it.  OK, not literally, but it does make for interesting conversation.  “I have a Type 1 diabetic child….sort of.”

photo-3

JR, dressed up in period costume while volunteering at the local historical state park.

As you may know, 9-year-old JR was diagnosed with Type 1, or juvenile, diabetes back in March.  You can read more about that here.  He was discharged from the hospital on a standard-for-his-weight-regimen off 11 units of long-acting Lantus and 1 unit of short acting Novolog for every 15 grams of carbohydrate he ate.  Within about 2 days, he was battling chronic low blood sugars.  I called the doc, and was told to cut his Lantus by 1/3.  I could see he was still running low, though, so I also increased his Novolog ratio to 1 unit for every 20 carbs.  Still struggling with chronic and severe lows, including blood sugars in the 30’s and 40’s (normal levels are between 80-120), I decided to change him again.  I cut his Lantus by 2/3 of the original dose, and increased his Novolog ratio to 1 unit per 40 carbs.  This change helped a little, but he still had lows.  The poor child was sick of food, as he had to eat constantly to keep his blood sugar up.  I had to test him 1-2 times during the night, and often had to feed him a snack to hold him until morning.  He spent several evenings in tears, and often slept on the couch (close to our bedroom) or even with us because he was so afraid of getting too low during the night.  As soon as he awoke in the morning, he would check his meter to make sure I had tested him during the night (which meant I could never oversleep and skip a test I had promised!).  It was a stressful time.  Thankfully, a couple days later we had a follow-up appointment.  We discussed the issue.  The doctor was hesitant to make additional changes.  Her concern was that, if we reduced his insulin too much, he would assume he was cured and be devastated later.  I assured her that was not the case, he understood completely because he had grown up with me having the disease, and we were far more concerned about his chronic and dangerous lows.  She hesitated, and explained that it was very rare to have a child diagnosed in such early stages.  I agree that we were, indeed, blessed to be followed by the TRIGR study, so we knew to be watching for the symptoms at the time.  In any case, she gave me a plan of action, and we left.

Over the next week, we completely weaned JR off his Lantus–the long acting insulin that is designed to stabilize blood sugar levels throughout the day.  We also continued to reduce his Novolog–the short-acting insulin designed to stabilize sugar spikes at meal and snack times.  We monitored his patterns, and finally, one day, he took no insulin at all.  And he did really well.  He didn’t have a single low!  In fact, his sugar levels were perfect all day long!  That was back in April.  Since then, he has taken no Lantus at all, and he only takes 1 unit of Novolog for every 40 carbs, which, with our diet, only happens about 1-2 times per week.  That’s right, my Type 1 diabetic son only requires about 1 unit of insulin when we eat the Sunday buffet at our local restaurant, or have the occasional, high-carb pancakes and syrup for dinner.  That’s it.  He still tests his blood sugar level, but only does so about 2-3 times a day–and mainly for his own security.  Interestingly, the biggest struggle he continues to have is low blood sugars.  Despite the fact he takes no insulin most days, almost any type of play or other exertion will cause his sugar levels to drop as if he was on insulin.  As a result, he still has to carry his little kit with him, which contains his bg monitor, glucose, and snacks to treat his lows.  Lows now range between 50 and 70 though, rather than the previous 30’s and 40’s.  On rare occasion, a meal might cause his sugar to get into the 200’s, but we rarely treat it, as his body does pretty well bringing it down without assistance.  In fact, we’ve found additional treatment with insulin causes a severe low later, which is more dangerous than a rare high level.

As it turns out, no one seems to be able to explain what is going on with him.  Clearly, he is in what is known as the “Honeymoon Period,” where the pancreas is still producing some insulin, but is slowly killing its remaining islet (insulin) cells, and he will be fully insulin dependent in the not-too-distant future.  The doctor’s guess is, considering the early stage we caught him, and the fact his pancreas got a bit of a break with the help from insulin in those early weeks, he may have 12-18 months before he reaches that stage.  In the mean time, she has told us to enjoy the time we have.  What she, nor anyone else can tell us, is why he continues to battle low blood sugars.  It seems to be an anomaly, and even the TRIGR staff we have spoken with, who are experts in the field of Type 1 and pediatric diabetes, have never seen this before.  As best we can all surmise, his body just doesn’t really know how to “calibrate” his blood sugar levels anymore, and for whatever reason, errors on the side of overproducing insulin (causing low levels) rather than underproducing (which would cause highs).

As busy as we have been this spring, this development has been a true blessing, as it bought us a few months where I didn’t have to focus so much on his health.  Plus I was allowed to sleep, which is something I desperately need to get through the day.  It has also done a tremendous amount I’m sure in giving him time to adjust to the idea, without losing all his eating freedoms at once–not that he eats that unhealthy to begin with.  Probably even more of a blessing is the fact that those around him, folks who might be prone to panic at the idea of him eating the wrong thing or having a severe sugar level, have been able to relax knowing he is pretty independent and can be treated as “normal.”  They are able to watch him test, ask him questions (which he is very good at answering correctly), and generally this seems to put their mind at ease.  He is still looking forward to getting his alert dog, and we are hoping to later this summer or early fall.  I’m hoping the more stable blood sugars will actually help train the dog faster because it is easier to get the dog accustomed to his “normal” smells, so it is more aware of his low or high smells.  This is a huge bonus when training a new pup to these scents!

It will be interesting to see how things play out over the next year or so, but we certainly count our blessings.  JR does not take it for granted, and often comments about it.  He knows what his future holds, but this honeymoon time seems to have eased his fears somewhat, as he feels more in control, I guess. In the mean time, I’ll enjoy having a non-insulin-dependent Type 1 diabetic child.

Most of you know that I am a Type 1 Diabetic, and have been for almost 30 years.  As a plug for my book, I authored a book several years ago, called “Diabetes:  Overcome Your Fears” which can be purchased on Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and other retailers, or directly through me (if you’d like an autographed copy).

In this book, I discuss all that I have learned about diabetes over the years, my experiences with different equipment and alert dogs, having children, finding doctors, and so much more.  With 2 biological children, I knew the statistics of them getting the disease, and could only hope and pray that our lifestyle would delay or prevent the onset.  Our firstborn, JR, has been part of a trial study called TRIGR since he was born.  At birth, he showed the genetic markers.  While this was no guarantee he would develop the disease, it did mean he had a drastically increased chance.  By the time he was 4, he was showing all the necessary antibodies for the condition, but was still free of diabetes.  We can only hope our lifestyle contributed to the this fact.  Last fall, however, his annual blood results showed a rise in his A1C results.  Again, it was no guarantee, as nothing is certain in the development at this point, as the actual trigger for the condition is as yet unknown. However, these latest results meant we had to watch more closely for symptoms.

In early February, JR began having some trouble sleeping.  It was somewhat random though, so I chalked it up to the winter cold preventing him from being as active, thus as tired, as normal.  He became increasingly emotional and sensitive, but again, we were all driving each other a little nutty locked inside as we were due to the single digit temps outside.  He began complaining of excessive thirst, but I was also drinking a lot due to the dry winter air we were experiencing, so again, I ignored the symptoms.  Finally, 2 weeks ago, I came home from a long day on the road.  It was long after JR’s bedtime, and he was crying because he couldn’t sleep again.  He said he didn’t feel good.  I knew they had waffles and syrup for dinner (a very high carbohydrate meal), so on a whim, I decided to test his blood sugar with my meter.  Rather than the usual number reading, the meter gave me the message “Blood Glucose not readable.  Over 600.”  I felt the sinking feeling in my chest, knowing what this likely meant.  I hoped, however, that he had residual syrup or sugar residue on his hands from dinner, so I sent him to the bathroom to wash his hands.  He returned and I tested him again.  I got the same reading. For once in my life, I used an almost-swear word.  “CRAP!”  I knew our lives and his life had just taken a major turn.  I didn’t like it, he knew what his future held (at least as much as a 9 year old can), and we had to get that sugar down before he became very ill.

I woke S, told him what had happened, and immediately drove JR to the hospital, 30 minutes away.  We walked into the ER, I explained the BG results to the intake nurse, and she immediately sent him to triage.  He quickly became the center of attention for a ridiculous number of doctors, nurses, and medical interns.  For the next 24 hours, he was admitted, put on insulin, given education and classes, met with one medical professional after another, and finally, we were discharged to go home.

IMG_1999

So begins a new phase of life for our family.  I am not just a diabetic, but I am also the parent of a diabetic.  We are able to laugh at it sometimes–like in church, when I felt weak, turned to test, sat up and discovered JR doing the same.  I was low, he wasn’t, so I “won.”  Other times, I get sick of hearing “Mom, I’m low!  What should I eat this time?”  I’d rather go back to a month ago, when he was free of disease, and had a future free of shots and finger pokes.  That is no longer the case.  Thankfully, he is a mature, responsible kiddo, and often finds the blessings in life.  He looks forward to having an alert dog like I used to.  He already does all his own testing and injections.  He is considering whether he wants a pump or to stay on shots.  He is learning what to eat and how much, and how exercise affects his bg levels.  I have no doubt his future is as bright as it ever was, only with the addition of this all-too-familiar thorn in his side to keep him humble and remind him of his mortality.  Even now, he acts like a fairly typical child, except at bedtime, when his newfound insecurities show up.  He is terrified to fall asleep many nights.  He is so scared of a having a severe low.  Although he has never seen me experience any such thing, he is a smart kid, and knows what a bad low can do.  It scares him that his insulin might take him too low one night, and he might not wake up.  He is doing better, but only with the reassurance that I will test him at night.

As a diabetic mom of a newly diagnosed child, I have wanted to cry for him many times, but the tears just won’t come.  I know the frustrations life holds for him, the humiliations he will likely experience in time, the fears of finding a wife who will love him, or the decisions of whether he should have children and risk passing on the genetics.  I hope he will never blame me for what he goes through, and that he will allow God to walk with him through those tough times.  I hope I can teach him thankfulness in all things by my example, and that he will accept his disease as part of the result of mankind’s sinful nature and not something he himself did.  I can only hope.

By the way, I will throw out a request.  We have promised to help him train an alert dog.  Alert dogs are amazing and wonderful aids for diabetics, and especially for children.  They tend to give children more confidence to go places without their parents, and to simply fall asleep at night, because the dogs are trained to detect lows and highs an act accordingly.  Will, my retired alert dog, has just gotten too old to return to service.  The poor dog can hardly get off his bed sometimes, so there is no way he could keep up with an active little boy.  Therefore, around late spring/early summer, we will be looking for a puppy to train.  Our ideal dog would be a medium-breed, labrador, golden retriever, poodle, or cross-breed.  I am not too picky about the breed itself, but I am very picky about the puppies (and parents’ if available) characteristics and will have to expose the puppy to several “tests” to see how it reacts.  The breeds listed have simply had the greatest success rates as alert dogs for children.  Other breeds have included Australian Shepherds, Welsh Corgis, Beagles, and many cross-breeds.  In fact, my first was a rescue that I re-trained.  We could take a puppy up to about 4 months of age, due to other considerations we have.  I am really preferring something that will mature to less than 50 lbs, as the dog must sleep with JR, and because JR is rather small for his age.  A smaller size would just be a better match for him.  I say all this to ask, if you know of anyone who breeds for pups that might be good for a task of this nature, we will be looking.  I would greatly appreciate any info you can offer that might help us find a good candidate to work with.  If the puppy could possibly be donated, that would be an incredible blessing for our family.

In the mean time, perhaps the rest of you could offer up a little prayer on our behalf, as we go through these early “honeymoon” phases, try to get his insulin and blood sugars leveled out, learn to immerse this into our already-busy lifestyle, and soon begin the search for that perfect dog that will become JR’s personal, 4-legged guardian.  We’d greatly appreciate it.

We recently had a virus go through the family.  Poor R had the worst case of it, and absolutely could not sleep at nap or at night.  She would be OK until she laid down, and then all the gunk would settle into her lungs and she would be unable to breathe, start a croupy cough, and sometimes cough until she gagged or threw up.  Poor girl.  First, I tried the humidifier, which helped but didn’t solve the problem.  I tried Chest rubs, sitting out with her in the cool night air, and even gave in and tried a little medicine to help her breathe.  I even tried propping her up on extra pillows, but as soon as she fell asleep, she would just slide down to a more horizontal position and start coughing again.  Nothing worked.  Then, out of desperation for my own sleep, I came up with a new plan.

IMG_1423

I put her carseat in her bed, propped the head rest up on her stack of pillows, and put her in it.  Granted, it helped that she really likes her car seat.  In any case, the slight incline coupled with the head support pillows that prevented her from folding over onto her bed in a totally horizontal position worked!  Poor girl (and poor mommy) finally got a good night’s sleep!  She even slept late the next morning since she was so tired.  After 3 nights in her carseat, she was finally on the mend.

Then she gave her cold to Mommy.  The only problem was, I outgrew my car seat MANY years ago.

Next Page »