Last Saturday, the day before we were to leave for Dallas, C came down with a fever. A deep, sinking feeling hit me in the pit of my stomach. It was not a good thing, this fever. I was worried about his ear infection and/or pneumonia possibly rearing their ugly heads again. So I gave him medicine at bedtime and prayed he would sleep.
He didn't.
By 11pm, C was in the bed with us. Burning up with fever, restless, and feeling terrible. So we dozed while watching a rerun of Saturday Night Live, and I thought things were about to settle down.
And then he puked.
I somehow managed to do a spectacular job of catching the chuck with C's rag, while kicking and yelling Husband awake, screaming for him to, "Get me a towel! Now!" And by the time he'd awakened from his deep slumber and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, the puking was over.
I did use the towel though. Amazingly, we managed to escape with only a little on me and C and none on the bed. But that still meant an emergency wipe-down, change of clothes, and of course, a load of laundry.
We finally settled back down and I managed to get C back into his own bed in the wee hours of the morning for a few hours' sleep.
Knowing that C was in no shape to go to church, Mom came to keep him while Husband and I fulfilled our duties at our annual Christmas Lord's Supper Service. And by the time I got home, C's fever was even higher.
And the decision was made to postpone leaving for the Big D and get C to the doctor on Monday morning.
So, first thing on Monday morning, I called to get C a doctor appointment. I had to wake him up to make our 8:30 time slot, and he was fever free. It was a good thing.
Dr. B said that C's lungs were clear, and his ears were not infected. And that we were probably looking at a virus, but we should be ok to travel for Christmas. It might take C a few days to get over his fever, but since he wasn't feeling completely horrible, he should be fine.
So we loaded up and hit the road.
C slept until we stopped for lunch; At which time he learned to dip his fries in ketchup and suck it off without eating the fry. Basically, he used the fry as a delivery system for the ketchup. And he loved it. Curious, because he's never cared for tomato products in any way, shape, form or fashion before this time.Sickness does strange things to the boy, apparently.
And don't think the possibility of ketchup puke in the car didn't cross my mind. But as C was still fever-free at lunchtime, I was hoping we were on the downhill slide of whatever bug it was that was plaguing us.
We arrived at S & B's house later in the afternoon and were greeted by Nana, S, and cousin J. And a temperature of 104.
C might have been a little hunka hunka burnin' fever, but he was ready to play, play, play. He and J got acquainted and had themselves a good ol' time.
B, Z, and Poppy arrived home from paintball and we enjoyed a great dinner and played their new PS3 game, Buzz. We loved it. And I totally rock.
And for the short version of the rest of the evening:
Hotel. Unload, unpack. Puke. Bath. Restless. Wiggle. Cry. Sleep, precious sleep. But not much.
We'll finish this up later. Maybe we'll even make it into a trilogy. All the good screenwriters seem to be able to make that work. I see no reason I can't.
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