Outnumbered Two to One

As a mom, I never want my kids to get sick. Ever. If it were up to me, I would intercept each and every nasty cold and flu germ and take it upon myself to weather the illness for them. The reasoning is only one part martyrdom and two parts self preservation. Sick kids are hard to take care of, number one. Number two, worrying about my sick kids is way more difficult to treat than say, clogged up sinuses or a nagging cough. They sell over the counter medication for that stuff.

Thursday after my last post, my two-year old’s temperature rose to about 103 degrees under his arm. That in itself was concerning enough. Worse still was the sound he made when he was breathing, a rattling wheeze that affected both his inhales and exhales. The cough was clearly croupy, but sitting in a steamed bathroom barely improved it and the steroid nebulizer treatment I’d given him before bed yielded similar results.

I called the Dr.’s answering service at about 10:30. When he didn’t call back, my husband packed the baby up and took him to the ER where he was promptly seen and treated. His oxygen saturation levels were a little low and they kept him for about three hours for observation, but he was home, breathing easier by 4 am.

My doctor’s office called me at about 9 am the next morning. Almost 12 hours after my original call to the answering service.

“The doctor tried to call you last night,” the receptionist said over the phone, “but couldn’t get through because of the call block.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I don’t have call block on my phone, that’s not possible.”

“His call was blocked, that’s why he couldn’t get through.”

“We don’t have that feature on our home phone, why wouldn’t he have been able to get through?”

“So tell me how your son is feeling?” she asked me, completely disregarding my befuddlement and the argument at hand. The rest of the conversation was brief, and my pediatrician never once got on the telephone with me. Coward.

I was already in the process of switching doctors, but this whole exchange just kind of reinforced my decision.

Needless to say, it’s been a long weekend. My six year old is fully recovered from his flu outbreak and my two year old is on the mend, still drippy nosed and coughing, but much improved. Thanks to everyone for the concern and support. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to read and comment much in the past few days, but hopefully I’ll be able to catch up with my pal Google Reader during the coming week. I mean, all four of my kids will be home, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty of free time. Right?

It didn’t take a crystal ball to foretell that one sick and contagious child was only the beginning of my woes. Especially when said plague bearer was continually hacking unrestrained bits of toxic phlegm in to his younger brother’s previously healthy face. Not to mention the inadvertent cup sharing, face licking, and finger sucking.

The  dominoes are falling, one by one, into influenza’s sinister clutches.

The two-year-old, my diapered bundle of harnessed electricity, is currently a bleary eyed feverish mess. It is compounded by the fact that his ability to communicate is not quite as evolved as his older brother’s. Complaints and requests are usually shrieked at an inaudible pitch, possibly one only dogs can hear. Trying to decipher the words is another thing altogether. It’s almost like playing a really angry version of charades with someone from another country where language and hand gestures are completely reversed - holding your stomach means you want to be carried, rubbing your eyes means you’re cold, throwing up in Mommy’s bed means…well, that one is self explanatory.

So of course, mostly capable Mom, is for the interim, reduced to a worried, neurotic, scatterbrained lunatic. I’m agonizing over every cough, every whimper, every uneaten bite of Jello and unsipped cup of water. It makes me short tempered and irritable and generally unpleasant to live with…just ask the rest of the family.

It’s going to be a long weekend.