Catholic Family Vignettes

Does anyone remember this post?

Or this one?

If you do, then you know that my dear son is so incredibly allergic to poison ivy, it is frightening.

He wouldn't even accompany us to the woods today, due to his fear of another severe reaction.

Have you ever seen these? (Picture courtesy of Google Images)


Do they look like these? (Picture courtesy of yours truly, taken today)


They are...drum roll, please...POISON IVY BERRIES!

In my infinite wisdom, with the desire to beautify and enhance our Advent decor, I brought this evil weed into my home.

How was I to know that poison ivy has berries?!! My husband, that dear man, was checking out my blog, admiring the lovely pictures of the children and their nature "collection", when he noticed that the picture of his young son holding a branch of berries, seemingly resembled poison ivy berries. A quick "google image" search revealed the dreadful truth...poison ivy, PART III.

I am so sick of this. I can't avoid it. It is in my dining room.

But not for long.

Anyone have a blowtorch? Oops. That would be bad. Very bad.

Maybe I'll just bury it. Oops...propagation? Nooooooooooooooo!

The trash...double-bagged, of course!


Read more!

Thank heaven for the miracle of modern medicine!

Zachary spent Friday evening in the emergency room. This case of poison ivy is the worst we have yet encountered. He spent the entire day in absolute agony. Eyes swollen shut, blisters covering the majority of his face; his lips so swollen he was barely able to speak...he looked very much like a victim of chemical warfare. His body's reaction to urushiol, the toxin in poison ivy, is the same as it would be if he had suffered a severe chemical burn.

The treatment? A week long dose of very strong corticosteroids (Medrol) and a sedative/antihistamine (Atarax). The downside? Zachary apparently falls into that small percentage of individuals for whom Atarax does not have a sedative effect. In fact, it is quite the opposite. The poor young man was awake every hour, throughout the night, until 5:00 a.m. this morning.

He is looking a bit better. Hopefully, within 24 hours the swelling will have significantly decreased.

The irony of this particular case is this: Just three weeks ago, Zachary and his grandfather and siblings spent several days in the woods. Zachary didn't contract poison ivy then! A quick trip to the woods to retrieve an ax and BAM! The worst case ever. Read more!

Hate it.

I try not to use the word hate, very often. It is an extreme word. There is no love or forgiveness in it.

That's why I'm using it now. I...HATE...poison ivy!

It is November. The temperatures have been in the 50's during the day and the 20's and 30's at night. You'd think this evil weed would die. But, no! It is as tenacious as my dear son is unwary.

He walked to the woods, two evenings ago, to retrieve his father's ax. Nearly all of the trees in the wooded grove behind our home, have lost their leaves. Zachary lingered in the woods, something he had not been able to do all summer due to his extreme sensitivity to poison ivy. He was gone such a long time, that I jumped in the van and drove down the short trail to make sure he wasn't stuck in one of the recently set traps.

In the twilight, at the entrance to the wooded path, he stood alone. Cheeks flushed red with the cold, his face radiant with the secret joy of time spent alone in nature.

Gone. Radiance has been replaced with the worst rash ever. Eyes swollen shut. Large weeping blisters cover his entire face and neck. We are now one step outside of a trip to the ER.

His greatest suffering? He thought he was safe. He felt his immunity had built up over the summer. He had been using this. He showered. He did everything that he should have. His additional concern: how on earth will he serve Mass in this condition? He most likely won't.

And that's why I HATE poison ivy. Yet another aspect of The Fall (pun intended) that reminds us that "the world is our ship, not our home"--St. Therese of Lisieux.

Please pray for my dear boy. Not even chocolate chip pancakes can ease his suffering...

Read more!

Defeated. The birds have beat us to the blackberries. Watching, waiting and braving the poison ivy jungle have gained us approximately two cups of blackberries...enough for a couple batches of blackberry pancakes. No blackberry pie. No blackberry jam. No blackberry cordial.

This weekend I will brave the wilds of the domesticated blackberry farm where I will stand amidst the thornless, trellised beauties and grasp handfuls - a privilege I will gladly pay for!

The next couple of days will be rather busy. My daughter, Caitlin, is coming for a visit on Thursday. Friday, the three older boys will be serving a requiem Mass in Newark. The weekend will be spent canning and freezing - the joyful preservation of the summer harvest.

Light blogging ahead... Read more!