The best laid plans ....
Ziad is sick, and my plans have gone agley indeed. Ever since Thursday, when his first waking thought was "Can we reschedule the playdate we have planned?" life has been on hold. Passes to the ballet dress rehearsal? Adieu. I don't so much mind having missed it myself, but by the time I realized that there was no way for me to be comfortable leaving such a sick child, it was too late to find someone who could use them. Not that I didn't try. Reservation-only, docent-led wildflower hike on private land in Santa Cruz not normally open to the public? Oh, man, letting go of that one hurt. Ballet tickets tomorrow? Well, those, at least, I can exchange.
I'm not by any means bucking for martyr of the year award. Part of me is perfectly content to hunker down and mark time waiting for him to get better. Plus, really, how many moms could really enjoy themselves knowing their child was languishing on the sofa, coughing pathetically?
Thursday he spent dozing off in odd situations. Friday he seemed better, but all of a sudden I realized at four o'clock that the weekend was coming, he had a high fever, and medical help was going to be limited to emergency rooms if I didn't deal with the situation a little more proactively. I called the doctor's office, and after talking to the nurse I knuckled under and took his temperature, something I try to avoid doing because it usually scares the hell out of me. Guess what? 104. Damn. Actually, I guess I can pat myself on the back, because my guess ahead of time was 103. Do I know my kid or what? Anyway, a long conversation involving three or four calls ensued, because my children's tylenol had expired, so I wanted to give him some adult Tylenol instead. Except that had expired, too, and all I had was some Advil. Plus there was an involved discussion of why three tablets with 160 mg. of acetominophen are better than one with 500 (the difference is 20 mg if you don't feel like doing the math). Isn't one pill that you swallow better than three that you chew, especially if you are a picky eater who doesn't like fruit flavors? He ended up taking 400 mg of Advil, leaving him 80 mg short, but it seemed to do the job. He felt much better and left off his imitation of a wood-burning stove.
And yet, here he is today, coughing lethargically while his temperature steadily rises again. Good times.
I find myself accusing myself of being incredibly self-involved, because I tend to think of this medical situation in terms of how I feel about it. Can I handle my little boy having a high fever, or am I going to freak out and need to rush around doing stuff? I keep forgetting that he's old enough now for me to ask him how he feels and what he prefers. Does it hurt too much, does he feel like he needs medicine, or does he want to tough it out (always the preferred option in my book)? Can he be persuaded to drink enough fluids to help his body cool down? Does he understand that popsicles are better than tea for soothing his throat? Yes, yes he can and does. Good times.
I'm not by any means bucking for martyr of the year award. Part of me is perfectly content to hunker down and mark time waiting for him to get better. Plus, really, how many moms could really enjoy themselves knowing their child was languishing on the sofa, coughing pathetically?
Thursday he spent dozing off in odd situations. Friday he seemed better, but all of a sudden I realized at four o'clock that the weekend was coming, he had a high fever, and medical help was going to be limited to emergency rooms if I didn't deal with the situation a little more proactively. I called the doctor's office, and after talking to the nurse I knuckled under and took his temperature, something I try to avoid doing because it usually scares the hell out of me. Guess what? 104. Damn. Actually, I guess I can pat myself on the back, because my guess ahead of time was 103. Do I know my kid or what? Anyway, a long conversation involving three or four calls ensued, because my children's tylenol had expired, so I wanted to give him some adult Tylenol instead. Except that had expired, too, and all I had was some Advil. Plus there was an involved discussion of why three tablets with 160 mg. of acetominophen are better than one with 500 (the difference is 20 mg if you don't feel like doing the math). Isn't one pill that you swallow better than three that you chew, especially if you are a picky eater who doesn't like fruit flavors? He ended up taking 400 mg of Advil, leaving him 80 mg short, but it seemed to do the job. He felt much better and left off his imitation of a wood-burning stove.
And yet, here he is today, coughing lethargically while his temperature steadily rises again. Good times.
I find myself accusing myself of being incredibly self-involved, because I tend to think of this medical situation in terms of how I feel about it. Can I handle my little boy having a high fever, or am I going to freak out and need to rush around doing stuff? I keep forgetting that he's old enough now for me to ask him how he feels and what he prefers. Does it hurt too much, does he feel like he needs medicine, or does he want to tough it out (always the preferred option in my book)? Can he be persuaded to drink enough fluids to help his body cool down? Does he understand that popsicles are better than tea for soothing his throat? Yes, yes he can and does. Good times.
Labels: family
posted by Sarah at 6:06 PM
1 Comments:
I hope he's feeling better.
And if you ever need any meds... we are unusually well stocked.
Not to say that we use them when needed.
I've decided kids never get sick the same way twice. It's always a guessing game. Give them Motrin? Give them Tylenol? Stay home? Go out? Go to the emergency room? Wait till tomorrow?
Good times indeed.
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