Birthmarks

While we are on the topic of skin markings......I have seen some fairly unusual birthmarks in the course of my career. Maps of different countries, famous people and animals.  Yup. People actually proudly display them to me.

So, I decided, hey why not? It's my blog.

I happen to have a birthmark too...on my ankle....it is a "cat's paw". I don't know what it means but it is certainly identifying - if my body were ever to be found and my family needed to know if it was really me.

  My mother gave me this explanation when I was little:   apparently a cat "ran over her tummy" when she was pregnant with me.   I should have suspected that story wasn't true when we saw the toys "Santa" gave us in my mother's shopping bag just before Christmas Day.

Do you have an unusual Birthmark? One in the shape of ... something ??   Or have seen an unusual one?

Wow

Since November 23 when I posted this video.....it went from 500K hits to over 11 million hits.  I guess that is why they call it "going viral"........

Which is a good reminder: Get your flu immunization.

Strawberry Marks and Babies

When I was an infant, I developed a "strawberry mark" or "superficial hemangioma"soon after birth - a benign tumor - on the side of my face.

It was a little bit bigger than a quarter-sized red mark right next to my eye and only slightly raised.  My mother became quite concerned about it because it was growing in size, and at about 8 months old she became so concerned that she consulted with her MD.

 photo i "borrowed" from a
commercial website

Hemangiomas are the most common-type benign tumor in babies.  Approximately 4% to 10% of caucasian babies have a hemangioma. 

It is 3 to  5 times as prevalent in females - especially those that are fair-skinned.  They are rare in Asian and African American babies.  The incidence in premies is approximately 25% and more common in twins**.

 In the 1950s,  sometimes methods of treatment were less than brilliant and verged on experimental.   With the advent of technology came flagrant misuse without proper testing at times. 

With risks unknown, future results can be devastating - case in point - the DES debacle.   Today, treatment of hemangiomas is reserved for only those marks that are determined high risk for complications.

My MD suggested that I be treated with radiation therapy.   So, appointments were made for my mother to take me for a series of "X-ray treatments".    As a new young mother with 2 other children age 3 and under, she had to take me by bus to the clinic downtown Vancouver.  She says I slept through all the treatments.

Back in the 1950s, Xray machines were nowhere near the refined technology that it is today.  There are still some hospitals (hopefully not many) that use older machines that may emit higher levels of radiation than necessary.  The more recent machines are a vast improvement.  But in the 1950s the levels of exposure were not so discriminatory.

It has now been concluded that irradiation in infants may cause growth retardation (no wonder I am so short compared to the rest of my family!) and possible future radiation-induced cancers.   A cohort***from 1909 to 1959  was defined for later studies  on possible late effects from the type of radiation exposure or "treatment"  I had as an infant.

For example,   here is a study that was done in 1996 on this cohort that correlates the incidents of breast cancer risk to the radiation treatment of the hemangiomas in in the area of a baby's breast tissue.

 By the late 1950s irradiation was discontinued because of the increasing knowlege that a) there were inherent risks to radiation and b) the marks would usually resolve spontaneously in time.  

However, it took time for medicine to catch up to the studies done, because even though it was shown that strawberry hemangiomas usually spontaneously regressed on their own, it didn't stop the extensive use of radiation therapy until the late 1950s - similar to DES use into the 1960s well after being disproved an effective treatment.

I can understand how the concern of parents, distressed by their child's appearance along with their MD perhaps not taking the time to educate the patient or themselves to the current improved methods of treatment, perpetuated the use of this method of treatment long after the true facts were known.

Meanwhile....Bad news is  - I  perhaps may have to consider the possibility that I might be "at risk" for cancer.  Good news is -  I no longer have a strawberry mark. 


**  Here is the story of a mother and her baby with a hemangioma
***A cohort is a group of people who share a common characteristic or experience within a defined period of time

Birth Story: What is in a Name?

Some people give their babies the strangest names.

I am quite sensitive to it, because I myself have a name that is so unusual, I only have to write it down and everyone knows who that person is. Google my name and you get all information related - mostly -  to me.   I have had stalkers find what hospital I work at and the unit I work in because of that.   It can be a liability. 

Never mind, no one ever gets the spelling right.  Imagine having to go through life  having to spell it constantly.  I have yet to see anyone get it right the first time.  Even when I spell it out s-l-o-w-l-y, for some reason people still don't want to write it down it correctly.

For some reason I still have to tell them, "no - there isn't a space there and it is spelled with a "XXX" as in "XXXXXX" - and they STILL don't get it right.   I usually give up at that point and let them write it the way they like.  On the other hand, when people hear my name, they often tell me it's a pretty name. (Although not so pretty that anyone wanted to name their baby by MY name - except ONE!)

 My father, on the other hand,  is lucky. Same last name as myself,  but he just happens to have the same name of a notorious celebrity and if you type in his name in Google - any information about him is lost in the plethora of celebrity gossip.  I am envious.

I have also been envious of my brothers and sisters and friends who ALL could buy that mug or pen or whatever sweet item off the shelf that has their name printed on it - as stock - without having to special order and then wait 6-8 weeks only to find the company decided I didn't spell my name right and took the liberty to correct it for me! Arrrrgghhh!

I think I have somewhere already told the story about a young Chinese couple - new immigrants - who were going to name their baby Petunia - (or some other flower - I can't quite remember the exact name)....and I had to intervene on the baby's behalf and explain that it was not a suitable name for their baby. Explain to them that the name they had chosen was a girl's name - not a boy's name - and they might wish to rethink it, for their baby boy's sake.   Having immigrant grandparents with the difficulty of language comprehension definitely gave me sympathy for those  I looked after that were in the same boat.

I was working in the USA in a brand new (to me) hospital - night shift - and some of the nurses in L&D were talking about strange names.    I chimed in - "Ya.....I remember one gal who named her baby Melena....." [with drama]

Big Pause.

 *crickets* 

 The nurses all looked blankly at me.   It clearly didn't register with them.   Deeply offended, one of the nurses said "What do you mean??? That's my daughter's name!! What's wrong with it?"

Not exactly how to win friends and influence people - especially when one is the "new" nurse on the block.

But one thing that would really get me going were the mothers who had separated  from their first husband but didn't change their former married name for whatever reason - and would come in with their new partner and baby-daddy of the new little one.   I am pretty sure no forethought was given at all to the possible complications. 

The policy of most hospitals, in order not to have any baby switching or medical errors, is to put the legal name of the mother on the baby's bands as well as the new father's band.   All the paperwork has to match up to ensure that the proper baby stays with the proper mother.....and that if the baby is wheeled in the cot down the hallway with the parent other than the mother  and  a security check was necessary - we would have a way of ensuring the baby wasn't being snatched.

After all, there had been a baby-stealing incident in the city recently.  No hospital wanted that liability.

I can't tell you how many irate baby-daddies demanded the name of the ex be removed from their baby.  It was difficult to explain to them that legally - and for their baby's safety - this is the way it had to be done.

I suppose a home delivery would avoid this problem......  wouldn't it?

Birth Story: The Best Wedding Gift Ever

They were the cutest young couple. First baby. Doting Boyfriend.

She came in at 3-4 centimeters and they spent the morning walking around the unit hand in hand - the occasional doppler reading between trips per protocol.

By noon, the next doppler check was due, she and her husband were nowhere to be found.

 It wasn't unusual to have couples in labor walk around the unit or down to the cafeteria....or even out the door in the neighborhood for a little walk.  

An hour later I spotted them in the hallway.

"Hey -  there you two are!" I waved at them and smiled.  " I thought you had disappeared on me! I need to hear what your little one is up to.....how are things going - are you doing ok?"  I led them to their room.

They looked slightly flushed and a little bit sheepish. 

She handed me admission papers.

I took them from her and looked at them, not able to compute what they were for.  We already had her admission papers......and here were some -  with a totally different name on them.

"Oh....so the other admission papers weren't done correctly?" I asked.

"Ummm.  Yes they were.  Ah.... we just went out and got married.  Just now. My boyfriend......I mean husband [ he was grinning ear to ear at this point] didn't want our baby born without him being his legal daddy......" she explained between contractions.

Of course, all the nurses and docs had to congratulate them,  and we were wishing that we at least had a bottle of bubbly to give them!

Their best Wedding Gift ever came approximately 5 hours later.

Christmas Tree

When I was in my 20's - up until my 40's - I would have a "Christmas Tree Decorating Party" where I would invite friends over to celebrate the obvious.

Sometimes it meant a few people, sometimes a huge roomful.

But, it always meant fun and laughter and stories and secrets shared over a glass of mulled wine - or eggnog.

Every ornament placed on the tree had a meaning, or a story behind it.  The memories - along with the ornaments -  would be dusted off and reflected upon.

I could hardly wait until I could drag out the 5 or 6 totes full of decorations every year.....and take my time and ponder on Christmases past. 

That same feeling comes back when I see my trees - set up and glowing in the night.  There is nothing more calming and more satisfying than walking into the quiet dark room in the middle of the night,  the ethereal glow of the focal lighting reflecting off the golden apples and the wooden carved deer family gathered around the creche.


One of my most favorite Christmas tree photos is one of my Dad with 2 of his brothers, sitting in front of their Christmas tree.  Take a look.    And yes, just in case you are wondering - those are real candles on that tree.

ID Bracelets: and Babies Mix up

This past spring when I was at my folks' house, I made an interesting discovery.

As I have often done through the years, I was looking through my mom's old photo albums - and I found an old photo of some little girls that I didn't recognize mixed in with some of our own family photos.  Curious, I asked my mother about them.

 "Who are they?" I pointed to the photo of the 2 little girls, one approximately 7, the other maybe age 10.

Mom leaned over and pushed her reading glasses up further on her nose. "Oh....their mom was in the next bed to me when I delivered you. Every Christmas we would send each other photos of our children."

A few minutes later: "So....do you still  keep in touch?" I squinted at the photo, trying to make out the faces.

"No - they moved to Washington State and over the years we lost track of each other."

"So...?...I still don't get it. Why did you keep the photo? " I was curious.

Thoughtful pause.

"Well ....when you were born, you looked so different from the rest of the family, we were certain they switched you at birth - so we kept in touch over the years - just in case....." She shrugged.  "But....after a while it didn't matter."

This was the first time hearing this story.  Incredulous to say the least.

"It didn't matter after a while - you were ours.  We didn't need to keep in touch."

I continued to stare at that old photo.

Yes, I guess it really didn't matter, I thought.

Not anymore.

This was my family, for better or worse, and I am not sure that I would even want to look into Other Possibilities.



I did work for a few years at the hospital at which I was born.   They still had the ancient birth record books. I suppose I could have looked up my name.  Not that it would prove anything.

My mother had given me my little ID necklace with her name on it that they would put on babies in my birth hospital  55 years ago.  The beads were strung onto a very strong thread and then secured around the baby's neck with a blob of lead. (!)

 At the time I worked at that hospital, they were still making the same necklaces - only they were using the wrist/ankle plastic banding method as well.   The beads were more of a souvenir.

 They were reluctant to give up the old tradition -  they still would tie the beads around the neck.  I questioned them on the wisdom of that (or the lack thereof) - since we were instructing our patients never to tie anything around a baby's neck- safety reasons.   

I just handed them to the parents since they weren't used for actual ID-ing.

 I made another one with my name on it.  You can see that I have photo-shopped most of the letters off the white beads so my name is not legible.  It almost makes the beads with letters look like pearls.  The original and actual baby ID necklace I wore as a baby is on the right, the one I made up myself is on the Left.

Whether my ID necklace was put on right at birth....I will never know. My mom was a little foggy at the time...they did the "twilight sleep" back then for deliveries....and babies were whisked away to the nursery.  Mothers were alone in the delivery room back then, so my father wasn't able to confirm that I was the correct baby either.

Oh well.

Still, even though some things are not great in some delivery rooms now,  it's awful to think what they did to mothers back then......to not even know whether the baby handed to you was even yours......and not even feel that you could question the nurses or MD....?

You just Never Know: Birth Story

True story.

She walked in casually, nicely dressed and makeup - immaculate.



Random photo from an ad

 No heavy breathing, no stopping to have a contraction, nothing.  She smiled at me - and plopped her little suitcase on the floor by the bed.

"So what's going on?" I asked her as I welcomed her to the assessment room.

"I think I might have started labor" she replied.

"Are you having contractions?" Trying to get a take on what's happening.

"I think so." Still smiling.  " I kind of felt a little pressure and thought I would come in to get checked"

That little key word: Pressure.   She didn't look in any way distressed.  Didn't look like she was in labor - yet she felt "pressure".

I quickly put her on the monitor to do a short strip.   "Would you like me to check to see where you are at?" I asked.

"Why not? I am thinking it won't be long"  It wasn't her first.

The thing about mom's in labor, you never really know what you have.   I always believe the mom.  I listen to her.    That word "pressure" triggered something in my head - even though her behavior was nothing like that of most women in labor.  You just don't know.

I checked her.

"Wow - congratulations! You're fully dilated!"

She laughed.   " I thought so.  I was really quick the first time!"

Moral of the story:  Always listen to what the mother says.   Never discount anything she tells you - even if you think otherwise.  Although there are similarities generally speaking - there are always the exceptions.  Pay attention to the mom -  the monitor won't tell you the whole story in labor.  Let the mom be "Queen of the Room" and allow her to dictate what she wants and needs.  Every mother is unique in her needs and wishes - so listen to her!

You just never know.

Red Headed Babies and Teeth at Birth

One thing you don't often see in the Delivery room is a crowning head of BRIGHT RED HAIR.  That little bit of light in a darkened room, shining on the head as it is coming out is like a glowing ember of fire......

Wow. That is impressive.   I have only seen it a couple of times, it is so rare. Usually, the red hair evolves later....but when it comes right at birth in it's full glory....it's amazing.   I love red hair.

The other thing I found amazing was the couple of babies who at birth -  had TEETH.  Their poor moms.  As if it isn't painful enough starting out breast feeding .........

Ouch.

Winter in Saskatchewan: My Dad's Heritage

I've written stories about my Dutch Gramma and Grampa on my mother's side.....and their stories are quite interesting and well documented in Gramma's diary for posterity.

But my dad's side of the family also has a few stories - albeit passed on by word of mouth which may make them suspect for accuracy since my uncles - when they all got together - could really weave some yarns.  I am thinking that's the Irish blood in them.

Family photo - Jim and Charlie, Grampa on top the cart

My Grandfather rode out from Orangeville Ontario Canada first by train and then continued on by ox and cart.  I can't imagine what kind of a trip that would have been.   Jim and Charlie - the two oxen - were the main means of power around the farm.

  It was the boys' chore to take them to the river to drink every day.  In the fall, trips were made until the river froze over.   They would then just melt the snow for water.

One day, early fall, the river had frozen on the shoreline and Jim the Ox slipped and split his legs (when a heavy ox or cow did 'the splits' -it is not possible to mend ) and they had to shoot him.
Grandma sent them a letter telling the rest of the family the bad news - that "Jim slipped and split his legs and had to be shot".  Of course, everyone she wrote this piece of news to, thought the "Jim" she mentioned was one of my dad's brothers - "Jim".  It caused quite the stir amongst the family.

I am not sure what kind of medical care they had access to on the prairies - that they actually would think that someone would have to be shot for the sake of a broken leg that couldn't be fixed.

Speaking of which, my father was born on the farm on the Saskatchewan prairies as were his brothers and sister.    He was born at home in the middle of winter, under circumstances much like those my Midwife Grandmother had attended in Alberta. 

He came into the world on New Years Eve -  fireplace going....water boiling on the stove.   Celebrations put on hold as they all waited for the news.   There were no hospitals anywhere nearby if anything were to go wrong. 

I don't have to tell you, he made it ok.

Delivering at home was, as was with everyone living in remote Canada,  the only option unless you had the means to drive miles and miles to the nearest city....and since Grandma and Grandpa didn't have a car until they moved to Vancouver  in the 1940s, that wasn't going to happen.   Even the nearest store, a little general store where they would buy the necessities, was 10 miles away.

Because they lived on a farm, the only items they needed to buy was sugar and a little flour, since they did grind some of their own coarse flour on a grinder rigged up out of  an old car motor.  Everything else would come from the land - vegetables, fruits, berries, nuts.  Saskatoon berries (I have at least 12 shrubs growing in my yard here in BC - they grow wild in the Okanagan Valley) were plenteous, and the gardens would reap bushels of strawberries.

A type of coffee was made from roasting, then brewing - coarse ground barley.  I suppose this is similar to Ovaltine - a "coffee substitute" which uses malted barley for one of it's main ingredients.

Canning for winter was a must.  Every sort of vegetable grown was canned.  Jams made.  Potatoes were gathered and stored in a cellar, unwashed, so they would keep.  Turnips, carrots - all the root vegetables would be squirrelled away for the winter months.

 It didn't matter how old you were, if you could walk around - you could work.

As little kids they would go to school in their one room schoolhouse, but also would have their chores to do at home when their classes were finished for the day - or early morning before walking to school - milking cows, gathering eggs, feeding the pigs and chickens....

My uncle told me that one day they were sent to the neighbor's to help stook the oats so the hayracks could pick them up and take them to the thrashers.  As 8 and 10  year old boys, my dad and my uncle would walk the five miles to the neighbor's and do work in the fields, then after, would sleep in the barn, then come home again after the next day's work.  No thought was given as to whether this was safe to walk there and back or whether it was even work that little kids should be doing.

Their sources for amusement were varied.  Fishing, swimming - all things kids do nowadays but with variations.   My dad would tell me how they would set snares for the groundhogs or gophers.  These animals were a nuisance for the farmers - making holes in the field where horses or cows could catch a leg in and injure themselves.  The boys would get once cent for each tail they could bring in.

At the young age of 12 or 13 - the boys would take their rifles and check their trapline for weasels or coyotes or the occasional rabbit.  They would take along sandwiches - usually jam - which became frozen stiff and difficult to eat in the sub zero winter weather.  My father tells of the time they were gone so long - they missed supper.  Darkness falling by 4-5 pm, Grandma was worried, and by the time they got home, Grandma was crying - thinking they were lost and frozen somewhere.


Anyway, every Christmas, it wasn't really Christmas unless Grandma, and later on - my mother continued the tradition - made Mennonite Fruit Soup "Plumamousse"....... Grandma would make for her now Irish family....

Here is that recipe.  It is as delicious as it was back then, full of flavor in it's sweet goodness, and great if you have any problems in the area of regularity. You could actually blend it and freeze it and use it for a "Prune Whip" in lieu of any laxatives.

Please go to this site for a slightly different recipe

Plumamousse

1 package of Prunes
1 package of dried apricots
1 package of raisins
1/2 cup sugar
2 (or so to thicken) Tablespoons Flour

Optional:
You can add a can of cherries, or dried cherries, apples or peaches - or to make it really easy, instead of separate bags of dried fruit - use a huge bag of mixed fruit that you can buy at Costco.  You can also add cinnamon.

Cover with water or apple juice (then you can leave out the sugar)
Let sit overnight to soak
Boil mixture to soften fruit but leave intact - approx 15-20 minutes, and add cornstarch or flour to thicken
Add milk to thin and eat!
Can serve cold or hot.

Here is a similar recipe on a great Mennonite Recipes site using Tapioca pudding