My daughter has croup, and if you were to randomly stop by right now, you would see that we look like an official sick-house (after I drop kicked you across the street). Do not randomly stop over.
What I mean is, there are enough plastic bags strewn across our small house from various pharmacies to take down planet earth in five years. It is almost as if we thought that Walgreens would have something that CVS did not have but Rite-Aid might have, if we could just get her to stop coughing and please, please, please stop crying. And please sleep.
If you looked through our recent calls on our telephone you would see that we have called the doctor so many times that if they blocked our number forever, we would not blame them. In fact, they might just pick up the whole office and move.
My house is a filthy disaster and those sticky Motrin syringes are everywhere, collecting dust and cat hair. It is not that I am careless enough to leave them everywhere, it is because I have THROWN THEM ACROSS THE ROOM after an effort to get my daughter to take the medication that I promise will make her feel a little better for the next 4 hours. How does she do that, though? Scream while locking down her lips, so that the tiny syringe tip does not even stand a chance?
I am not complaining. This is parenthood. I can't tell you how many times I have held and rocked her, thinking dear God, just transfer this illness to me 100 fold and make her healthy now.
In doing this, I cannot imagine how insane I would get if I had a child that was chronically disabled or ill. I want to take all of those parents into my arms and say, dear God, give me their grief and pain 100 fold, just so they can have one moment of peace.
So there it is. My lesson that I needed to learn. My perfectly healthy girl is going to get taken down every now and then and I am going to have to learn how to deal with it better than I have in this past week. It could always be worse.
I am grateful for our health care, our warm house, and my husband who has witnessed my complete and utter childish reaction to this whole thing. He has has two babies to deal with.
What am I doing now? Listening to her cough in her crib over the baby monitor and of course, waiting for the doctor to call.
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3 comments:
gently pinch her nose closed and she'll open up her mouth a crack, and she'll have to then swallow the motrin in order to breathe. it really does work.
i have a post-operative toddler at home with some foul tasting pain killing medicine.
good luck.
Wow, and I complained about my pain from the disc. There is nothing more disturbing and depressing than to have a child that is suffering and not be able to simply make it all better.
Aw, poor things, all of you. I hope she gets better soon.
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