Surviving Swine Flu and Sickness in General

GirlsGoneChild — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 23:16:00 GMT

Sunday night I came home to one very sick child. And when I say very sick, I mean, scary sick. A kind of sick I had yet to experience with either of my kids ever. Apparently it started Sunday morning but by Sunday evening, Archer was immobile. Refusing to leave the corner of my parent's couch. His eyes were swollen. He was shivering. 104 fever. Whimpering.

"I think you should stay here," Hal said. "I don't know if traveling back to LA is such a good idea right now."

And he was right. So Hal took the train back home and I stayed with the kids at my parent's house.

Archer, the picture of health (and angst) before I left for the weekend.

"He probably has the Swine Flu," my mom said.

"OH MY GOD! Really? Should we take him to the hospital? AHHHHHH!!!!"

"Nah, he'll be fine," she said.

And she was right, of course, but Sunday night was the first time in a long time that I spent the night worrying. In between rounds of "Moon River" and dabbing Archer's face with cold washcloths, I lied awake, listening to my babe's heavy breathing, totally afraid. And I started to think about parents who tend to sick children all the time. About the sick kids I used to work with and how their parents spent YEARS worrying, dabbing, singing, rocking, being afraid.

So.

I would like to take this moment to give thanks for my children's health.

Thank you, universe. For curing Archer of Swine Flu or regular Flu (or whatever it was that made him sick for three days) so that he can now sit beside me as I type this, happily devouring a bag of pretzels while kicking me with muddy shoes.

And thank you for making it so that everyone in my family can eat pretzels and kick each other with muddy shoes right now if they feel like it.

You rule.

***

Home, Sick

GirlsGoneChild — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 21:11:00 GMT

We're on day three of sick and I'm moping around the house in my pajama pants and tee-shirt, hair pulled back in haphazard pony-tail situation, rubber-banded with the stretched out elastic from a deceased shower cap.

I look like a bag lady. I feel like someone is kicking me in the face and squashing my heart. I haven't slept in two days but that's not why. I hate that my baby is in pain and I wonder how mothers of chronically ill kids deal.

Archer's fever peaked at 103.7. That was yesterday so at least the worst is behind us. I may bitch and moan about how difficult it is to raise a toddler but chasing Archer around the neighborhood like a maniac is nothing compared to lying on the couch, rubbing his little back and singing "the ants go marching one by one..." for two days.

Last night he cried "mama" for hours, pulling my arms around his waist, burrowing into my chest and there was nothing I could do.

And that sucks. Worse than poop for presents and tantrums in the street. That stuff is easy breezy compared to watching Archer writhe in discomfort. Now that's torture.

And so I sit, with my computer in my lap and Archer curled up at my elbow with his red blankie and his binky and his red cheeks, hoping with all my might that the fever will pass soon so we can go back to the usual toddler shenanigans.

***

Straight from the Bottle : sickness

Surviving Swine Flu and Sickness in General

Home, Sick