With Trot dealing with this hair loss thing I told myself that if for some reason all his hair did end up falling out I was going to shave my head and be bald with him. The only flaw in this plan is I have a peanut shaped head, meaning I'm gonna look like that baby on "Family Guy", only reversed.
Throw in the fact I'm not exactly the best looking guy around and the bald thing takes a hard turn toward horrendous.
So I'm growing a gnarly looking beard to hopefully compensate for the possible frightening sight of my weird shaped head totally bald.
As his parents, we realize his hair is coming out and have taken every step we know how. He saw his doctor the day after we noticed it and saw a specialist two days later. Yes, it looks bad and no, he doesn't really think about it much. Although after you went on and on and on and on about it today HOPEFULLY it won't cause him to dwell on it.
I realize you get most of your information from Dr. Phil and Oprah and while we greatly appreciate your suggestion to "get on the Internet and find out what it really is" I think we'll stick with the plan of seeing the COLLEGE EDUCATED SPECIALIST who we currently are putting our trust in.
Even though I'm sure it was well meaning, you may want to give people advice and make comments on certain things when you are, well you know, ASKED to. And you may want to consider that SOME people may prefer to handle the way they treat their kids and related medical issues in a more scientific way than Googling it.
It's days like this I'm grateful I was at work and not with Ang when this happened.
'Cause I'm pretty sure this lady would have left with a hair dryer implanted in her ear.
Nothing say's Christmas like Alopecia, Pokemon cards, and comparing gifts from Grandma.
"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judæa, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."
Merry Christmas from my slightly crazy corner of the world to yours.
As I slogged through another day of retail sales, listening to the same Christmas songs over and over again it didn't feel a lot like the Holidays. Doing my best shucking and jiving while trying to convince people they NEEDED that new bedroom suite for Christmas it didn't seem like Christmas was just 5 days away.
Until I got home.
And Ciera was actually SKIPPING around the house about Christmas Eve at her Nana's and Rakes was bouncing off the walls about what Santa was bring him and Trot was so amped up about his goodie bag he got at his Christmas party today that he could barely get a sentence out. Throw in the fact today was the last day of school for close to two weeks and all three of 'em were positively giddy.
It was then that I remembered Christmas isn't about me.
Not a long time. In fact, there isn't a whole lot one can accomplish in just three seconds. Three seconds, in the grand scheme of time and years and life is an insignificant speck in the context of the millions and millions of years this rock has been spinning around in space, right?
Today, even though I've spent roughly 8 years screaming myself hoarse about looking both ways, stopping at the end of the driveway, and in general paying some type of attention to where you are and what you are doing, Trot jumped on his brothers electric scooter, flew down the driveway,........
And slammed full speed into the drivers side door of a car cruising down the street in front of my house.
Thankfully he's OK. Thankfully it was driven by a 76 year old lady going under 25 mph and not one of the idiot teenagers who use my neighborhood as a cross through and think they're in Germany on the Autobon. Hopefully he has FINALLY got it into his thick head about being careful.
Three seconds earlier and he'd have been hit head on by that car instead of running into the side of it.
I couldn't have come up with this on my own but for the life of me I can't remember where I heard it or read it. Could have been ESPN radio or somebody at work or on television; wherever I got it I think it's a pretty valid argument.
There is a scientific experiment, used by Scientists (I emphasize that because MOST men or women of Science have a hard time believing in God) called the Placebo Effect. It goes something like this; Let's say you have some physical ailment and are invited to take part in a study with like minded individuals. Half of you are given a real pill for the ailment and the other half a placebo. At the end of the study they look at how many given the placebo actually got better, even though there was no healing power whatsoever in it. The experiment is basically used to show the power of the mind and that if you BELIEVE in something hard enough with your mind you can do something that in all reality shouldn't happen.
I realize that's a really dumb way to describe that but it's me; what did you really expect?
Now, if we can believe that our mind can heal our body just by believing we're taking a pill that will do it, is it really that hard to buy that Tim Tebow can play football and pull comeback after comeback out of his backside the likes of which we haven't seen since the 2004 ALCS?
Understand this; not for one minute do I think God cares whether the Denver Broncos win a football game. Personally, I figure he's got bigger fish to fry. But if Tim Tebow BELIEVES God has given him a gift to play the game and if his faith allows him to believe that he CAN come through and win in any situation then he's doing the same thing those people taking that placebo that get better are doing.
The difference is they call it science and Tim calls it faith.
I went to pick up the steroid cream for Trot'sAlopecia this afternoon and the conversation went as follows.
Me: "I'm here to get a prescription for Trot Dalton".
Her: "What was that first name again?"
Me: ::sigh:: "Trot".
Her: "Here it is. That'll be $662 dollars".
Me: "You have got to be s*&**^g me".
Her: "No. That is the cash price with someone with no insurance".
Me: "We HAVE Insurance".
After clearing THAT up it turns out we ONLY had to pay $64 dollars. As I drove back to work the more I thought about it the madder I got. Over $600 dollars for a tube of cream the size of Neosporin would have cost me that much if I hadn't had insurance?
Somewhere there is a single mom with no insurance with a kid with Alopecia. And she has to decide whether to pay the rent, buy groceries, make the car payment, or buy her kid a cream that will keep his hair from falling out.
Thursday we noticed his hair was missing in several spots, so Friday we took him to the Doctor where they took some blood ("Trot, my little butterfly needle is going to take some of your blood". "No it's NOT.") but ruled out anything Thyroid related.
Then today I took him to the Dermatologist where he was diagnosed with Alopecia at the ripe old age of 5. You can see the side of his head looks like a tee box missing a few divots.
Topping it all off was a head to head meeting with Rakes on the trampoline this afternoon that left that nice little quails egg you can see in the middle of his forehead.
Thankfully this is happening to the one child I have who could truly give a flip; he's already asked me if he could shave his head and if he does I'm buying him a rain coat, an endless supply of lollipops and teaching him to say "Who loves ya', baby?" to everyone he meets.
Granted, this is the same face he makes whether he's going to the bathroom, playing soccer, or telling me about his latest Pokemon card but we took the kids to our little town's Christmas parade today. Ciera was marching with the band and it was my one Saturday a month off from work, so we loaded up Heckle and Jeckyl and off we went.
There was our local Congressman, a couple of Harley's, those little bitty cars the Shriners drive, and several Tractors. Big ones, little ones, green ones, and orange ones. For a minute I was worried we'd stumbled across some deranged John
Deere fashion show. I kept expecting Alan Funt to jump out of one, shove a microphone in my face and tell me I was on Candid Camera.
Trot, however, was a man on a mission. Didn't matter what went by us he was focused on one thing and one thing only; candy. Going in he didn't realize a big part of the parade was the people IN the parade throwing candy to the ones watching it. At one point he turned to me and in the most serious voice asked "Is it Halloween again, Dad?" Granted, they were only going about 5 mph but there were a few times I was worried he was going to dive under something moving to get his 4,398th Tootsie Roll.
It was all worth it after I was able to grab a shot of Ciera looking the other way at her Mom hollering at the top of her lungs; the look of mortification that her parent would yell out for her was totally worth the fact I had to avoid yet another Tractor and a group of Girl Scouts to get across the street to take this picture.
1. I love the fact, even though he's joking somewhat, that Bobby Valentine uttered "I hate the Yankees". I'm a huge Tito guy, but the days of the Sox/Yankees seemingly one step away from having vacations together are over. I'm hoping for an all out brawl sometime in July.
2. I went and ate lunch with Ciera today and was "Looking forward" to getting to chat it up with He Who Won't Be Named. Turns out he got silent lunch for arguing with the teacher, which makes me wonder; did he get in trouble because he's a punk or did he intentionally do it to avoid having to talk to Ciera's Dad for 30 minutes? Either way, I still don't trust him as far as I can throw him.
3. The Miami Marlins are spending money like the ghost of George Steinbrenner is running the team. Heath Bell, Mark Buhrle, Jose Reyes, ..... I half-way expect them to sign up Reggie Jackson and Frank Thomas just for kicks.
4. Trot has wet the bed 7 out of the last 10 nights. I'm starting to think banning liquids after 9 a.m. may be the only way to get this to stop. Otherwise, I'm burning through sheets like Grant did Richmond.
5. Tito got the job Valentine left at ESPN on "Sunday Night Baseball". In a little over a year we've seen the dismissal of Joe Morgan and the hiring of Terry Francona.
Trot and Rakes were in the Christmas play at church tonight, in which Trot was a Shepherd (he'd told me for weeks he was a wise man but maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part) and Rakes had a air guitar solo. Yes, a air guitar solo in a Christmas play. They made a video of it so I'll post it hear at some point; suffice it to say he made Michael J. Fox's performance of "Johnny B. Good" in Back to the Future look like child's play.
My biggest worry was the wild card that is Trot; I was imagining pants being dropped, him yelling out "I HAVE TO PEE!" right in the middle of a serious moment, and him sucker punching the poor kid who drew the short straw and was standing next to him.
Thankfully, none of the above took place.
However, at one point I had the following conversation with myself.
"He's pointing at his nose. Please don't. And he's doing it. He's picking his nose in front of 200 people".
I didn't realize I was saying it out loud until Ang elbowed me in the ribs.
Oh, and he fell down while walking backwards during "Did the Shepherds Need Shades?".
I DID have the video on my phone ready just in case. You never know when that $100,000 moment is going to drop in your lap.
I picked Ciera up from my sisters house tonight and as she came out the front door she says "He who won't be named (only she used his real name) is inside".
I of course marched right up the driveway and into the house and introduced myself, followed a half second later by Ciera, who I'm sure thought I would RUIN her life in one sentence.
Just when I'm ready to get out a heat lamp and grill this kid for a good hour with a rubber hose close by he asks "You a Red Sox fan?" Seeing as I'm wearing my science experiment gone wrong, ever present cap I'm not totally shocked by this question and I'm THIS close to making a "you're a real Sherlock Holmes, huh?" crack and then he goes and floors me.
"So am I". And I notice the Red Sox necklace around his neck. Mind you, Ciera could have tipped him off that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have something Sox related on at all times just in case we met, but it looked sort of worn and ragged so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
I'll save the "20 questions about the Red Sox" quiz for next time.
Sure would be easier to hate this kid if he was a Yankee fan.
I'm entering a new phase of my life. And no, it's not the Bobby Valentine era, although that DOES have my interest peaked.
This one is a lot scarier; Dad of a teenage daughter.
Up til now my biggest worries have been related to urinating and the constant threat of a broken bone at any moment, and while those are still very, VERY real they're now paired with dealing with a teenage mutant daughter.
One minute she's giving me a hug and telling me she loves me and the next she's stomping off to her room and yelling at her mother over her shoulder. She simultaneously talks about he who shall not be named and some tv show on Disney while complaining about school and freaking out about her lack of trendy clothes. At this point I half expect her head to spin 360 degrees on her shoulders and green slime to come spewing out of her mouth.
This is the same little girl that not that long ago would run to the door whenever I came home yelling "DADDY!" at the top of her lungs and jump into my arms. Nowadays I'm lucky if I get a "Hi Dad" and a peck on the cheek before she goes stomping off to bed.
I keep telling myself it's only temporary and one day in the not too distant future she'll come around but in the name of all that is Fenway Park?
I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to keep her Mom and her from killing each other before that happens.