Tuesday, February 3, 2009

St. Blaise, pray for us!

Mother's Log:

Star Date January 14, 2009: Little Therese arrives home complaining of a sore throat. Head cold for the next 4 days, moving into chest for another week thereafter.
January 16, 2009: Baby wakes up. Snot factory opens for business. Side note, Mom also discovers that all four Baby canine teeth are attempting to erupt at once. Baby and Therese taken to pediatrician to ensure ears and throats are clear, as letter detailing strep outbreak at Therese's school arrives in early afternoon mail. Cultures are clear.
January 20, 2009: Mother/Professor lets evening students go home after first hour of three hour class due to aching legs, fever, lightheadedness, and feelings of dread. No, not inaugurational malaise. 48 hours of flu, at least a gallon of tea, and only a few hours of vertical time ensue.
January 23, 2009: Just as Mother begins to feel human again, still-slimy Baby sends out rare 3 am distress call. Fever = 103* in both ears using Thermoscan. At 10 am, pediatrician discovers bilateral ear infection. At 6 pm, Beloved announces that he will not be joining us for the evening basketball game against the crosstown rivals, as he will be in bed for the next 48 hours under the electric blanket, attempting to hang onto his mortal coil, but pondering eternity and the state of his soul...just in case.
January 24, 2009: Princess awakens early for a grueling day of pre-competition practice, appears at the side of my bed holding her throat, weeping gently, and cursing us all for breathing on her. Exam week involves aforementioned snow day atrocity, skyrocketing stress level, and deteriorating physical health.
January 29, 2009: Princess arrives home from cheer practice complaining of achiness and abdominal pain.
January 30, 2009: Mother spends 3rd straight Friday at the doctor's office, this time with Princess. Ears are sore but clear, glands are swollen, throat looks suspicious. Strep, blood, and mononucleosis tests are indicated, as Princess also has tender area on left side, to close where spleen is located. Meltdown begins, as cheer competition is the next morning. As test results will not be back until Monday, and are only precautionary and more to "rule out" than to confirm, Doctor agrees that so long as she does not get worse, Princess may compete, given that she is not going to be thrown in the air, nor is she catching anyone who is so thrown.
January 31, 2009: Princess awakens on day of competition sounding like 75 y/o chain smoker. Mucinex, Motrin, and DayQuil are stuffed into cheer bag at 7 am before bus leaves for cheer competition. Princess and crew WIN their divisional cheerleading title for the squad's first time in several years! Despite psychological benefits of win, Princess arrives home and sleeps for the next 15 hours. Miasma in lungs thickens, voice disappears. Mucinex is administered and affords relief, but she is down for the count.
February 1, 2009: Despite dire warnings to stay away, Athlete comes over check on Princess at Superbowl halftime. Proceeds to become happy human pillow for second time while Princess slumbers on couch, and marvels aloud that he never thought he'd put girls before football, but a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Beloved's narrowed eyes relax for a brief second of shared mirth before returning to sniper-like focus darting between tv and adjoining couch. No untoward contact is observed or attempted.
February 2, 2009: Call from Sheepish Athlete. Embittered (and apparently hoodwinked) physician father of Athlete demands to know if mono results are back for Princess. Track season starts in a few weeks, and the team needs its captain, who is in his senior year and will be disqualified if he has mono, which upsets physician father far more than it does Athlete son, who is philosophical and reveals that the true risk of exposure would have occurred the day before, when he - ahem - "congratulated" the victorious Princess ("right there in the gym in front of onlookers!") after the competition. (Beloved and I must have missed that....)
Message immediately put in to Princess' doctor's office. Late in the day, results are back. All clear. Intel reports that embittered physician father of Athlete is relieved. Not as much as attorney professor full time Mother, whose Beloved will be deploying in a week for a stint somewhere in the Middle East as part of the new job.
February 3, 2009: Mother has been coughing all night. The Princess Plague, perhaps? Can this really be happening? The Circle of Germs. The Wheel of Misfortune. And I'm teaching tonight...

No way I can make it to daily Mass, so St. Blaise, I'm crossing my throat as well as my fingers, and I'm counting on you from here at home...pray for us!


a thorn in the pew said...

This mom is sick Oldest breathed on me. I had throat blessed Sunday. This must have other benefits because escaping sore throat and infection is not one of them.

Anonymous said...

Oh Kit- I'm the one with it here. Taking LOADS of QVAR and thinking that as I only had it last month I will have to go to the doc this time. {{minor tantrum}} Ah well!
God bless you and all your coughy snotty ones

Packrat said...

I hope you are all well soon!

LarryD said...

Man, what a bummer - hope you start feeling better soon!

the mother of this lot said...

Kit - I'm back! And I did make to to Mass today, so if St. Blaise's blessing is transferable, you can have mine!

gemoftheocean said...

I'd wanted togo toMass yesterday but couldn't. Have been under the weather with a sever case of the sniffles and my stomach acting as if it wanted to get an ulcer or something just to irritate me even more plus some fun "no it's not really a diverticulitis flair up, though you deserve one for all the crap you've been ingesting" pains. I broke out some of those in-case-of-emergency-break glass vicondin pills. I wave a sympathy kleenex at you and yours.

Nerina said...

I was the only one to make Mass last Sunday as three of the remaining 6 members of the family were taking Zithromax, the 7 year old was barking like a dog and the 2 year old was pouring snot like a faucet. I, thus far, have escaped the creeping crud.