Week Eleven - Out of Commission

There is just something irresistible to me about seeing a movie in a theatre. The sound of the projector behind me, the dancing shafts of light cutting through the dusty air above me, that organic image consisting of light, colour, and film grain that comes to life on the screen before my eyes - not to mention the smell of popcorn, the feel of those cushy seats, the taste of licorice. To me, this is heaven.

I got home from the movie by 10:00 pm on Saturday night. Not a late night, which is a good thing because my sore throat had just started acting up again. When I walked in, I hung up my coat and dumped my purse as I checked in with the babysitter. Fishing around for money, I asked how my daughter had been in my absence.

"That rash looks pretty red," she said.

"What rash?" Hmm. Interesting.

I didn't have to wait long to see what the babysitter was talking about. When I went upstairs to get ready for bed, my daughter woke up, so I went in to check on her. She had a rash on her arms and legs and she felt warm. Uh oh. This doesn't look good. Is it chicken pox? Or something worse? I went to bed vowing to take her to the Medicentre in the morning if she seemed sick.

My daughter and I spent the entire morning - from 9 am when it first opened, right until noon - waiting to get in to see the doctor. Her rash was now horrendous - it covered her entire body, including her little delicate ears and soft baby cheeks. The rash was raised, in some places it even looked like welts, and was an angry red on her arms and lower body. While we waited in the Medicentre she deteriorated, and by the time we got in to see the doctor her temperature was 103F. The usually feisty little creature didn't even put up a fight when the doctor checked her ears and throat.

"She's not even crying," he remarked, surprised by her listlessness. Knowing what she's usually like, letting everyone within a 2km radius know exactly what she wants and when she wants it, this was especially troubling to me.

"Well, it's a virus, there's nothing you can do," he told me as he finished up her exam - those common, dreaded words I inevitably hear after waiting for hours at a walk-in clinic. They always say that. It makes me wonder if bacterial infections even freakin' exist, and what the hell these stupid doctors are any good for. Thanks, doc - bed rest and fluids it is. That was so very worth the wait with a sick and miserable child!

On the way home I picked up some Aveeno Baby Colloidal Oatmeal Bath. That was noon on Sunday. Since then, my life has consisted of giving cooling oatmeal baths several times a day to my daughter, dosing her up with medicine - alternating between Tylenol and Motrin every three hours, and continually monitoring her temperature to see whether I should just take her to the hospital.

I've missed two days of work so far while I stay home and nurse my sick, miserable toddler back to health. Given that I have determined (after consulting with the daycare's owner, who then consulted Alberta Health) that my daughter is officially suffering through the H1N1 virus (aka, swine flu), I may have to miss the whole week. No work, no bicycle commuting, and a whole lot of sitting on my ass doing nothing day after day after day.

Save for a brief sojourn to Safeway to pick up some additional survival items, I haven't left the house since Sunday morning. For someone who can't handle being unproductive and is quite prone to cabin fever, this has been torturous. The only thing that makes it bearable is that my daughter is indeed getting better. Yesterday was a day full of sleeplessness (she was up at 3:30 am and didn't sleep at all, not even a nap, til the evening), screaming, and dealing with a temperature of 101-2F after taking fever-reducing medicines. Today, her fever has been down to 100F with medication, she slept most of the day, and she even managed to feel well enough for an hour or two to play with me. It was truly heartwarming to see the little girl I know and love peek through from beneath all that misery. And, I must admit, given that my daughter is absolutely not a snuggler, I have been appreciating all the time she's been spending curled up in my arms sleeping or snuggling into the curve of my neck. I'll take whatever I can get!

Even though I'm feeling well and would gladly be out riding through the streets as usual, I am stuck at home with my poor, pink-cheeked, red-rashed Baby Lady. As much as I'm feeling lazy and gross and even though boredom has inspired me to eat way more than I've needed to these last few days, I know I need to be here with her. Wiping her runny nose in my hair, scratching at the red rash on her legs, and falling asleep on my chest - there is simply nowhere else my daughter should possibly be. And of course, that leaves me - acting as her snot-rag, her security blankie, her mattress, and her constant source of snuggles any time of day or night - being exactly where I need to be, taking care of my little sickie as best as I know how.