What a strange nether-world (note: I did not say nether-region) I'm living in right now. I am perfectly well - just a lingering sore throat, but nothing debilitating - and yet, I am stuck inside like a quarantined invalid. I spend my time caring for my daughter, who is (thankfully!!) getting better every day, and even then is still so miserable. Many of her waking hours are spent crying, whining, or yelling out in pain as she scratches incessantly at her rash-riddled thighs. Her fever is down, at least. However, given that she can not return to daycare until she has had 24 hrs. without symptoms, the likelihood of returning to work at all this week looks pretty low.
I have returned to my horrible old ways, the binge-eating habits I developed during the caged-animal days of my maternity leave. The irony is that I have a lot of energy, energy that is best spent being "a flaming extrovert" (yes, that is a verbatim quote of someone describing me) and doing things like randomly breaking into song and dance for the amusement of my colleagues. When I am stuck indoors, alone, trying to take care of a miserable baby who cannot tell me what she wants and for whom I can do nothing more to help, this energy becomes a brutal curse. It leads me to do things like cook and bake - even though I am the only one eating - and invent reasons to go to the store. It leads me to by a box of cookies in the hopes that my daughter might eat if I offer her something palatable. Then, when she continues to refuse to eat - preferring instead to curl up in my arms and snuggle into my neck as I watch TV, I proceed to eat the whole box of cookies myself as I absentmindedly watch another episode of Dexter or Mad Men or The Office. This energy leaves me feeling the weight of my loneliness the way gravity is felt by astronauts returning to earth.
Thankfully, my daughter was just well enough for us to embark on a small outdoor adventure today. We drove to the neighbourhood bike shop, even though it's only a few blocks away, because my daughter is still not well enough to withstand a 20-minute walk each way in November weather. I figured there would be no better time than this week away from work - and therefore away from bike-commuting - to get my winter tires put on. This also happened to merrily coincide with how, at the end of last week, two spokes on my back wheel broke (what's that about, anyway? I've only had the damn bike since August and it's too uncomfortable to ride it roughly!). So I got those broken spokes fixed, too, while Mike was in the shop. They had to take the back fender off to get the new Schwalbe Snow Stud tires to fit, but I'm hoping that's not that big a deal given that I always ride with my rack and panniers in place.
Picking up the bike today and seeing those bad-ass tires on Mike made my heart sing. I am ready for you, SNOW!! I can't wait to try out my new and improved Mike! In the meantime, though, with nothing but bare pavement out there, I'll ride Eastwood until enough snow accumulates so that I won't feel like I'm ruining the studs if I take Mike out for a ride.
Aside from the trek out to the bike store, I've done nothing else all day. Snuggled with my daughter, napped with her, watched TV with her in my arms, given her baths that she absolutely hated, and kept trying to offer her different kinds of foods to see if her appetite is back yet. She ate more than yesterday, but still hardly anything. At least her fluid intake is good.
But, man, all this pent-up energy with no healthy expression has got me thinking: maybe I should get a treadmill, or an elliptical machine, something to spend some of this damn energy on! Well, there's nowhere to put equipment like that, really, and I can't afford something so expensive, and I'm afraid of the consequences of my daughter playing on something like that and getting injured.
Hmm - what about a bike trainer? It's a piece of equipment that automagically turns a regular bike into a stationary bike for indoor training. Sure, it might cost as much as my actual bike - or five times as much, if I hook Eastwood up to it - but it's sure cheaper than a new treadmill! And it's something I can easily store away when not in use. This will be perfect! I can bike-commute and have a stationary bike for those days I can't get outside! It'll give me something active to do while my daughter's napping and I'm stuck inside just waiting for her to wake up! I can even exercise in the evenings after she goes to bed - while watching TV, in my living room, while wearing pyjamas!!! Oh, Great God of Bicycle Trainers, you have SAVED me!!
Perhaps if my daughter is up for another outdoor adventure tomorrow, we'll have to swing by MEC and put my credit card through it's old paces. Oh, credit, you make life worth living!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
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.
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.
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