Aaron has been sick all week. It’s hard to tell when he’s really sick, because he complains a lot. Something always hurts. Something always aches. I blame myself because I always have something that hurts or aches. As I tell him though, I have The Syndrome (aka Sjogren’s Syndrome) and am much older than he. So when he told us on Sunday that everything hurt, we didn’t exactly believe him.
He didn’t feel warm to the touch. I know allergies are out of control here in Chiburbia. The almost-winter and warm spring did a number on the atmosphere so allergy sufferers are miserable. I started giving him allergy medicine and telling him to drink water. Jim’s solution was to take him out to play basketball.
Sunday night I noticed he was sluggish. Even more than usual when he’s been cut off from the television. I told him if he felt bad in the morning he needed to let me know right away so I could call him in to school.
Monday morning I woke up, felt him, took his temperature and realized he had a 102.8 fever. I freaked a little. He’s 13 years old! He shouldn’t be getting fevers that high, right?! I called him in, filled him with generic Tylenol, and sent him back to bed. By bed time his fever was almost 102.
Tuesday he had no school and I swear we were going to do some fun-filled family activity. Honestly! We definitely planned on having lunch with Jim (bring on the Gino’s East pizza, baby!). Instead, I took him to the clinic. Once again pre-generic meds that I cannot spell, his temperature was 103.1. Yowza!
Seems some nasty strain of flu is wending it’s way through Chiburbia. The clinic has run out of flu tests. Not even the hospital has any more! They’ve been seeing people of all ages in with terrible fevers and a flu that lasts seven days. Even doctors and nurses whose immune systems are exposed to everything are getting sick! Luckily Aaron didn’t have strep or an ear infection, so he didn’t need antibiotics.
Monday and Tuesday were days with a seriously sick child who lay in front of the television, bundled in covers, propped up on pillows. There was an occasional sniff. An almost audible moan.
Then came today. He’s getting better. He won’t shut up. He insists on repeating everything the television says in case I’ve missed it. He even insists on rewinding so I can see it first hand. No, Aaron, I don’t need to watch that commercial!
He’s making plans for spring break (next week) and for his complete future. Like where to buy the RV he plans on living in. Where to park the RV. Can we have egg McMuffins for breakfast? What would I do if he woke me at 5am? Midnight? What if he lost all his points at school and can’t get any ice cream? Why can’t he breathe out of both nostrils? Why does he have to drink water? Can he have new ice cubes? Can we eat at Long John Silvers soon? How about Pizza Hut?
I know you’re thinking that’s no so bad. But those are the questions from the last hour. While I was doing the taxes! For God’s sake, they might not even make RVs when he’s a grown up!
I’m really trying on being a patient parent. I want him to remember me as a kind mother, not as a screaming banshee.
But it’s hard. It’s oh so very hard.
Remind me some time to tell you how Jim almost killed him with the cough medicine. It was an accident!