Thursday night, Spawnling developed a fever. We were in the pool for about three hours with only minimal sunscreen application, so I assumed heat exhaustion and felt tremendously guilty for not being more vigilant.
Over 48 hours later, we're pretty sure it's not heat exhaustion. He still has a high fever, but absolutely no other symptoms. For the first day or so, it wasn't responding well to medication, but we seem to have it mostly under control now if we alternate between Tylenol and Advil. Back and forth, back and forth, like an adulterer on Jerry Springer.
Here's the thing: Spawnling got very sick last year. His first and only persistent symptom? A high fever that responded poorly to medication. And even though my brain knows that my littlest gremlin is not having a second bout of scary illness, my heart has crawled up into my throat and won't leave until the fever does.
If I'm not mistaken, this is Spawn's first fever since he was blindsided by Kawasaki Disease in August of last year. If he has had others, I don't remember them, so they must have been fairly mild and accompanied by other symptoms that would make me think "Oh, it's just a little virus. Nothing to worry about."
And all I've done for the last three days is sit and watch him, feel his forehead, ask if anything hurts, give him medicine, follow him around, and make sure his lips aren't cracking and his hands aren't peeling and his eyes aren't bloodshot.
No, I beg you: Please try to contain all your envy of my latest hobby. I'm sure you have awesome stuff going on in your life, too.
I admit to being a total spaz. I admit that I'm overreacting and dwelling on the past too much. I don't like it and would do just about anything not to be sitting here fretting about my child's fever which is probably nothing more than a fever. But instead, I ran him into the local children's hospital at six this morning because his temperature was nearly 104f and not coming down fast enough with Advil.
I was running on three hours of sleep after going out with some of my awesome peeps last night for patio drinks (I, of course, got a little risky with not one, but two glasses of Diet Pepsi). Geekster pretty much forced me out when I tentatively asked if he'd mind holding down the fort. He could probably see my crazy starting to bubble up to the surface and figured he'd rather I not implode. I'm glad I went, but I did worry an awful lot while I was out despite the excellent company. I fell asleep sometime after 2:30 and woke up at 6 when Geekster brought a very hot three-year-old into our bed. So, off to CHEO we went, Spawnling and I, with only a brief stop at a drive-thru for some essential - like, seriously essential and not pretend essential like usual - caffeine.
Diagnosis? Well, there is none, of course. He either has a virus (surprise!) or a reaction to some insect bites. Either way, there's not a whole lot anyone can do other than wait it out.
Oh, and maybe I could chill the fuck out a little in the meantime, too.
I wasn't like this before. Really, I wasn't. I left my paranoid new mother phase in a medical waiting room several years ago and never went back to claim her. I like not flying into a panic at the first touch of a hot forehead. I like scoffing at a sneeze, pshaw-ing a cough, shrugging off a runny nose. I was getting really good at saying "Sure, bad, scary, random things have happened to other kids I know and that's awful. But those are other kids, not my kids. I am so great at not making things all about me!"
Until, you know, it was my kid.
And when it was your kid, your perspective changes. I get that now. I wish I didn't. I wish I could ignorantly roll my eyes at me right now and tell me I'm being too emotional.
My goal over the next little while is to try and make a fever just a fever again. Meaning that I don't let my thoughts run away with me to the dark alley of what-ifs to perform dirty deeds with assumption, the lusty john that he is. I'm going to try and look at a sickly Spawnling as normal and not serious and not dangerous.
Logically, I know that everything will very likely be okay. When we do get his temperature under control, he acts completely normal. He has energy, he's chatty, he plays games, he has attitude - all good signs that this is mild, whatever it is. I loathe my inner panic button for not just letting me ride on logic. I never bought tickets to the emotional roller coaster and I do not wish to keep going around the track. Feeling suck. I think sociopaths are on to something. Is there an "off" switch somewhere?
In two days, if Spawnling's fever is not gone, I need to take him back to the hospital for testing. If any other symptoms of infection crop up before then, I need to bring him back sooner. But, of course, he will get better. The fever will break, and I will breathe a sigh of relief that it was, truly, just a fever this time.
Breathe, Maven. Just breathe. Focus on the good stuff, like how your friend is coming tomorrow from the US and you can try and pump her as full of Canadian misconceptions as humanly possible over the next six days. And how your older two are going camping with their dad and you'll only have the sickly Spawn to deal with, who will very likely have made a full recovery by then.
Just breathe. And quit whining. And go have another coffee, because that two hour nap you had earlier today isn't doing much for your mental state, obviously. You freaking basket case, you.
Since this post wasn't terribly funny (sorry, it's kind of hard to make anxiety over your child's health a ha-ha moment), I'll post a link to something I wrote last year about hospital wall art. I read it again recently and it made me laugh.
Take that back! I'm not lame, ok? I'm just that awesome.