05.23.07
Bunch of Sick-o’s
This weekend sucked.
On Thursday, when I arrived to pick up Daughter from daycare, she was sitting at one of those miniature children’s tables with her head down. At first, I thought maybe she had gotten in trouble, but when I got on my knees and looked in her eyes, I knew that she was not feeling well. Daughter said that her tummy was hurting.
I wasn’t feeling spectacular either, but I couldn’t take us straight home because I needed to drop off some survey cards at the Sangaree Crime Watch meeting. I handed off the survey cards and Daughter and I went home. I promptly took Daughter through the Standard Mommy Medical Diagnosis and Treatment Protocol. It goes something like this:
- Take child’s temperature. If child lies passively with the thermometer under his/her tongue, the child is definitely sick. If child twirls the thermometer with his/her lips, resists having his/her temperature taken, or fidgets during the process, he/she is healthy. The actual temperature of the child is largely irrelevant.
- Administer the standard dosage of Children’s Tylenol. Daughter took her medicine willingly and without a fuss. Something was definitely wrong.
- Now that Daughter came up positive for illness, so did her lunch and most of the Tylenol. All over the couch and me.
- Daughter was given a bath, and at her request, she was put to bed at 7:30 p.m. Her father and I began figuring out who would get her stereo if she passed away.
The rest of the weekend was spent much the same way. Daughter was doing lots of thermometer action, Tylenol drinking, and sleeping. What Daughter was not doing was eating or drinking. Just as her fondness for her bed was alarming, this was disconcerting also. The girl loves liquid refreshments. It is a rare moment that she is not sucking on a sippy cup. However, in the midst of all of the puking, bathing and sleeping, Husband and I didn’t notice her lack of thirst and appetite until Monday morning.
That morning, Daughter woke up with a disturbing red rash on her cheeks, arms, and thighs. Her bottom lip was dark red, swollen, cracked and bleeding. Daughter’s fever rebounded from a low of 99 degrees the night before to 102 degrees. On top of that she had a sickening belly-busting cough that was clenching her entire little body every time she hacked one out.
Husband called the doctor and he said that Daughter was likely dehydrated from the vomiting and fever and that we needed to get her to drink lots of water and juice. Easy enough, our kid if the Olympic champion of Juice Pounding. We loaded up her sippy cup and handed it to her with expectant smiles.
Daughter looked back at us with empty eyes and begged, begged!, us to let her go back to bed. For FOUR YEARS, this child has been drinking me out of house and home, and now that it is vital for her to suck down that juice, she wouldn’t do it. I can’t stress how frustrating this was for Husband and I. Our baby looked like a hunk of rotisserie gyro meat, and there was nothing we could do about it. All she wanted to do was go to sleep in a pita pocket.
After a full night of begging, pleading, and blackmail failed, Husband and I took Daughter to the nearest Wal*Mart. We purchased a small jug of PediaSure, milk, grapes, kiwis, and lunch meat (if on Death Row, I’m pretty sure this would be Daughter’s Last Meal). When we got home it was 4:30 in the morning. The girl had finally cracked and began drinking the PediaSure and snacking on grapes and lunch meat. I collapsed on my bed at 7:00 a.m. this morning.
When I woke up around noonish, Daughter’s rash was completely gone and she was alert and smiling for the first time in three days. Today, we played outside together, she assembled two jig-saw puzzles, and drank about a half-gallon of various juices, water and milk. My girl is back.
As I reflected on the irony of Daughter’s refusing to drink in the one moment that it was vital for her to do so, I turned to her and said, “Daughter, you sure know how to drive me crazy!”
Indignant, she snapped back at me, “Mama! I do not!”
“Uh, huh”
“Nuh uh!”
“Uh huh!”
She settled the dispute with this perfect summation of her mother’s complete idiocy, “Mama! I do not drive you crazy. I don’t even know how to drive. You know that!”
I relented. “Yes, baby, you are right. I’m sorry.”
said,
05.23.07 at 6:24 pm
I am so glad she is feeling better. I got scared just hearing about it on the phone, and scared again just reading it now. Get plenty of rest and fluids yourself, now! And give Niece a hug for me.
–Shell