Because I Said So

Sick, Sick, Sick

Henry was sick, then I got sick, then just as I was recovering Henry got sick again, then I got sick, now Jon is sick. 'Round and 'round. Exhausting! Now Henry and I are at the tail end of our colds (runny noses, coughing) while Jon is at the front end (rest, plenty of fluids, and large doses of bad cable television).

Made wise by my recent illnesses, I impart some wisdom: do not read Anne Sexton while ill. Do not read her poetry. Do not read her daughter's memoir. Do not allow yourself to feel cast down into the depths of suffering, as though a special, Kleenex-clogged ring of hell were created especially for people with snot drying on the fronts of their sweaty t-shirts.

It's just a cold! Lighten up!

Instead: People magazine, National Enquirer and their ilk, VH1's Celebrity Eye Candy (or any of those "I Love the 80's" or "Infamous Celebrity Feuds" shows), any of the "Planet of the Apes" movies, any one or all of the first three (last three?) of the "Star Wars" movies (the early ones -- beware Hayden Christensen! whose acting is another surefire way to drop through that chute of depression and into the abyss).

By following this simple plan (eschewing reading about incest, manic behavior, alcoholism, etc. and instead focusing on the superficial and/or strictly entertaining), you can embrace your illness, give yourself permission to sink back onto the pillows with a sigh of near-contentment as Charlton Heston runs around in a fur loin cloth, or Luke Skywalker claims with boyish bravado, "I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home."

May the force be with you, and your virus-laden days be few.

Needles and Scans

Had to get up early today to have Della at the vet by 7AM for an ultrasound and a needle aspirate of her liver. And now I'm at a bagel shop having a little breakfast before I head off to another appointment across town.

Yes, they've got free WiFi here. Before long, there will be WiFi everywhere (many municipalities are talking about providing it as a city/county service) and those men who slump down and doze in the car while their wives are in Target will be able to spend their wait time surfing.

Henry had his MRI on Friday, and it went very well. Henry woke up happy and relaxed -- didn't mind being bundled, still in his pajamas, into the car without breakfast or a drink (he had to be fasting) and then driven off to some strange place where he was man-handled and stuck with needles and shoved into a strange, growling machine.

Of course, he was unconscious for most of this. They gave him some gas that smelled like oranges (yummy) before they put in the IV for the anesthesia. In 30 seconds, he was out, still clutching his Elmo doll, and Jon and I were banished to the waiting room. It was frightening to see him lose consciousness like that. Not as bad as the first time he was anesthetized when he had tubes placed in his ears a little over two years ago. When he awoke from that procedure, he was completely disoriented and looked at us with fear and not a trace of recognition. Then he cried and cried. It was miserable.

This time, he awoke gradually as if from a nice nap, wanted to snuggle on my lap almost immediately, and was happily distracted by an episode of Sesame Street on the TV in the recovery room. Then we all went out for pancakes.

This Friday is the sleep-deprived EEG procedure; they'll be checking for signs of epileptic activity. We have to put him to bed later, and wake him up at 4AM and keep him awake until the 7:30 appointment. This, I'm not looking forward to. It could so easily go wrong, so very wrong. Ideally, he will be sleepy and relaxed enough to doze off in the clinic and not mind that strangers are sticking wires to his head. Just as likely, he will be sleepy and crabby and angry and will not cooperate no way, no how.

In a couple weeks hence, we'll meet with the neurologist again to go over the results. Best case: they find nothing. Second best case: they find something treatable. Third case: I'm trying not to think about that.

The House That Time Forgot

Henry's been sick all week with either the flu or a severe cold, and as a consequence normal life ground to a halt: no school, no speech, no daycare. I did manage to have a bit of a break on Tuesday, when Jon stayed home from work to care for Henry while I went shopping and to a movie with a friend. Sweet freedom!

Otherwise it's been a wee version of "The Magic Mountain" around here (the Thomas Mann novel, not the Disney ride). When Jon closed the back door as he left for work each morning, the "real world" retreated and our world settled around us. Time seemed to thicken and slow. Kleenex drifted in snowy banks. We sensed the bitter cold beyond the walls and windows and sunk deeper into the blankets. Elmo sang about the potty over and over again, the cheerful melody a counterpoint to Henry's discomfort: struggling to breathe, to sleep, to eat.

As the week wore on my hands became raw from washing, the laundry piled in the basement, and Henry began to make a recovery even as I became more exhausted. Now it's Friday, the week drawing to a close. Jon will be home tonight, and I'll get some much needed respite. Where did the week go? That strange contradiction of time: the hours pass slowly, the week in an instant.

Out of the Running and Into the ER

I missed blogging last night. Therefore I'm out of NaBloPoMo for this year. I have a good excuse. The pic at left is a clue. Anyone? Anyone?

OK, then, I'll tell you. I spent last night in the emergency room, and I didn't get back home until 1:30AM. As we were rushing out of the house, my panicked brain had two thoughts: "Maybe I should bring my computer," and "I'll grab a snack for Henry." As it happens, Jon's panicked brain and mine were on the same wavelength: the diaper bag already held a snack baggie. This is what parenting does to you: in a crisis, you both think, "GET THE CHEX MIX!"

(Here comes a parenting tip for any pre-parents: You do not want to be left in a potentially lengthy, boring wait with your toddler or pre-schooler without a decent snack. Don't leave it to chance, thinking there will be a snack machine available. Because there won't be.)

As for my first thought (bringing my computer), I set it aside -- in hopes that I wouldn't be admitted to the hospital, and that I would be home in time to blog. The first came true, the second -- alas -- not.

I don't really want to be all mysterious about my emergency room visit, but I don't really want to write much about it, either. How to solve this dilemma? Write about it, but be brief: I had a miscarriage. I found out about it a month ago. I went in for an ultrasound, and there was no heart beat. This was the sadness I mentioned in my posts.

The first couple weeks were difficult. Though I was only a few weeks along (about eight), it was still sad and discouraging. Medically, I was given the options of letting it happen naturally or having a D&C. I chose the former. A few weeks went by, and nothing happened. Then, two days ago, it started. Rather dramatically. Last night was very dramatic. And disturbing. Hence, the visit to the ER.

I am doing OK now. I'm tired, I'm weak and a bit anemic, but I've got some medicine to help me. I went through the emotional turmoil back in October. Dealing with the physical aspects is far easier.

I haven't done any writing in two days. Perhaps I'll get some done tonight. I haven't given up on NaNo, but I am quite behind. However, I'm not anxious about it. I'm too tired and too ensconced in "real life" to really care that much right now. Or maybe I'm just using good sense.