Holden has been sick all week. I gave my best Anne of Green Gables attempt at nurturing, loving, coddling, treating and doctoring him – but nothing made my poor boy feel any better except for the ibuprofen my doctor assured me I should just keep pouring down his throat.
Tuesday he had a fever all day. He lay there languid and limp while I took a rectal temperature to find out what we were dealing with. If he were well, he would have kicked, screamed and glared at me like “woman, are you insane? Of all the dirty tricks, get that out!” Instead he shook his had slowly and said “nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh.” It was so sad. The nurse said the fever wasn’t bad enough to come in and to call if he stopped sleeping. He slept all day.
Wednesday his fever continued, unrelenting but still mild. I must say that I slightly enjoyed being able to actually hold him – something he never lets me do when he’s well.
Thursday the fever subsided and brought out the monster that has apparently laid dormant in Holden for 9 1/2 months. He screamed all day long. All day long except for two hours when my parents came and played with us. When it was just me he would push me away, pull me close, push me away, pull me close and push me away – all while screaming at the top of his lungs.
(Consequently, he has no voice today. Anytime he tries to cry, nothing comes out. He stops, bewildered, and then forgets what he was crying about.)
Thursday was so bad that I found myself actually lying in bed, under the sheets, hiding from my son. I kept repeating the mantra I’d chanted all day “please stop screaming please stop screaming please stop screaming.” Unfortunately it had no magical power to calm my miserable baby so we could both take a nap.
(Have I mentioned that his no voice today is something of a relief?)
We went to the doctor. Who was not my doctor by the way. I paid $25 to hear it was a virus and that there is nothing I can do but keep him comfortable. Which Ive learned in doctor-ease is a nice way of saying drugged. He actually had the nerve – despite my panic and my baby screaming – to interupt me describing what had been going on and what symptoms poor Holds had. Seriously, I was in mid sentence when he looked away from me to the wall across from him at some small holes in it and say “huh, are those new? I’ve never noticed them before.” I stopped. Stared at the wall. Stared back at him with this incredulous look on my face (one might call that look “You’re about to get sucker punched you toad”) and continued on with my son’s symptoms without acknowledging his deflection.
Friday I went to work. Sweet, glorious excuse to leave the house. Wes stayed home with Holden most of the day and we had our wonderful, fantastic nanny Kiera too. Holden was in a sorry state most of the morning, but has been doing better since.
Saturday has shown signs of continued improvement. He’s taking good, long naps. But now he has a rash.
(And no voice. But I’m not complaining).