The Incredible Immunity Girl

The Kid never gets sick.  Except, you know, cancer, but even then, she wasn't actually ill with it.

Sometimes I feel bad about it - the other working parents I talk with are always commiserating about the constant stream of bugs their kids pick up from daycare and/or school - coughs, runny noses, tummy bugs, chicken pox, hand foot and mouth - and how many days they end up having to take off or work partly from home.  I nod along sympathetically, but I can't really join in because The Kid has had maybe one day off from daycare, and one day off from school since she first started at nursery just before her first birthday.

Chicken pox swept through her daycare five or six times while she was there, and her best buddy got it.  The two of them were always hanging out head-to-head, so if she was going to get it, she should have got it that time.  But nope, nothing.  I'm vacillating between getting her vaccinated for the pox, and hoping she just has some sort of natural immunity...

The Kid has a book called "The Incredible Book-Eating Boy" by Oliver Jeffers (which I highly recommend) in which the eponymous character throws up (too many books).  I had to explain to her what throwing up was, because she has never done it!  Actually, that's not quite true. Just before she turned one, we got home after work/nursery one evening and as I got her out of her car seat she threw up straight down my cleavage.  She wouldn't eat that evening, threw up once more (smiling and happy all the while) and by the next day she was fine.  I, on the other hand, spent the next week flitting between bed and bathroom, more ill than I've been in my life. Thanks Kid.

When she was at Preschool she was often upset that she never got one of the coveted iceblocks (ice lollies), which were kept in the freezer for first aid purposes (fevers, tummy bugs etc - it's amazing what flavoured frozen water can cure!)  Once when I was haranguing The Kid to wash her hands after going to the toilet, and said to her "If you don't wash your hands you'll get sick, and you don't want to get sick, do you?" she replied "Yes I do, because then I'll get an iceblock at Preschool!"  Possibly not the effect they were aiming for.  The day she got stung by a wasp on an outing was possibly her best day ever because on returning to centre she convinced a teacher that a wasp sting was iceblock worthy.  When I came to pick her up she came running up to me and said "Guess what Mummy? I got stung by a mosquito and I got to have a WHOLE iceblock!"  She was clearly traumatised.

The Kid certainly doesn't get her immune system from me. I was always getting ear infections and sore throats as a child, although it improved immeasurably once I had my tonsils removed, at age 7.  At 14 I was diagnosed with an autoimmune condition called sarcoidosis of the larynx and spent the next 15 years on steroids to control it.  That is inactive now, but has morphed into another autoimmune condition called uveitis, which affects my right eye.  Uveitis can be one-off, recur sporadically or be chronic.  Mine is chronic (yay, me!)

The Kid's Dad is obviously responsible for her robust health.  He has never been in hospital as a patient, not even when he made his first entrance to the world. He often complains that since meeting me he has spent more time in hospitals than he ever thought possible. I like to introduce people to new experiences... ;)

I do count my lucky stars, touch wood and many other cliches that I have such a healthy child.  It certainly makes the life of a working parent much easier. Speaking of cliches, "famous last words" and "tempting fate" are suddenly coming to mind... ;)

Am I suffering from anxiety-anxiety?

In my last post I said that I've never really considered myself to be the anxious type, and at the time of writing, I did actually believe that to be true.  However, I've been thinking about it quite a lot since posting and realised that actually, that's complete bollocks.  I'm totally an anxious person, it's just that I don't get anxious about most of the things (I think) most people do.

Public speaking -  love it.  Exams - thrive on them.  Spiders, bugs and creepy crawlies - not my best friends necessarily, but I'll happily scoop them up and put them outside. Heights - I LOVE being up high in trees, lighting rigs, roofs, ladders, climbing walls etc. Reading a roomful of almost-strangers a story about my vagina - no problem.  (It probably wouldn't occur to most people to be nervous about that last one, but I'm pretty sure they would be if they were suddenly asked to do it!)

There are, however, a lot of things that do make me very anxious, which most people probably don't think twice about.  These, then, are the things that make my hands clench, my heart beat erratically, my stomach drop, and a fizzy, needly sensation zing along all of my nerve endings:

• people who walk behind me, particularly in clippy cloppy shoes.  I HAVE to either start jogging to get well in front of them, or stop and let them past me.  
• taps that have been on for too long (in my opinion) or which are dripping.
• when the ads come on and no-one turns the volume down straight away.
• watching cringe 'comedy' on TV or in movies - I feel anxious and embarrassed for the character/actor and literally can't watch.  I have never been able to watch "There's Something About Mary" right through for this reason.
• similarly, listening to someone give a speech which is too long, or not funny when they think it is, or just generally bad, even if I have absolutely no connection to that person.
• going somewhere or doing something that has been my suggestion, but it takes longer than I think other people think it should, or isn't as good as I think other people think it will be.  It doesn't matter whether other people are actually thinking that, and usually I'm not worried personally about the time and/or crapness, its just that I feel responsible for other people's disappointment.
• thinking that I have done something bad or wrong (as in, sent an 'email that could be misinterpreted', not like 'killed someone') or that someone else will think that something I had done was bad or wrong.  This happened at work just before Xmas, and I sent an email to my boss 'fessing up.  When I didn't hear back I assumed she was so cross she wasn't replying, and spent several days fretting.  It turned out she hadn't replied because she wasn't in the least bit bothered!

My worst ever anxiety attack, which I think was a full-blown panic attack, happened not long after The Kid had been diagnosed with retinoblastoma, childhood eye cancer.  She had to have her right eye removed, and although she now has an amazing prosthesis, for the three months after the operation she just had a 'pink eye' (the implant) with a clear plastic shield over it.  I decided to give her a haircut, as she's always been pretty anti having her hair brushed so we keep it shortish, but ended up cutting it too short on one side, to just below her ear.  I ended up shaping it round into an a-symmetrical bob which actually looked fine, but when I finished and looked at what I'd done, I burst into uncontrollable tears.  The Kid was very confused and I was trying to keep calm for her sake, but I was convinced that I had somehow ruined her life and mine, and that The Husband was going to divorce me on the spot the instant he came home.  I was finding it hard to breath at one point, and when he did arrive home I think I terrified him by rushing out with The Kid and sobbing "Please don't be cross with me, I didn't mean to!" 

He was understandably bewildered and thought something terrible had happened, and when I told him I was talking about The Kid's hair he was so relieved that it jolted me out of my panic and made me realise it was not such a big deal.  I guess my stress was understandable, given the circumstances, but I've also been much more careful when cutting her hair ever since!

I'm not sure if I actually suffer from some sort of general anxiety disorder, or if I'm just a bit of a freak, but the good thing is that in recent years I've recognised the situations that stress me out, and have learned to deal with them. So do I consider myself the anxious type? I guess, if asked, I'd still say no. What do you think makes someone the 'anxious type'?