Friday, 25 March 2016

Happy Easter

I was woken this morning at one of those times that I refuse to acknowledge exist. Before 6:30 at any rate. And I was woken by a sobbing small boy, who told me swallowing hurt, and that he couldn't even yawn his throat hurt so much. Cuddles, water, a trip to the bathroom, some cough medicine, and a (hopeless) attempt to get some more sleep before our pathetic little scrap climbed into bed with us. It didn't take much snuggling to realise (a) he was not himself, showing no interest in playing, sitting on Daddy's head, attacking my bunny with a great white shark or otherwise causing havoc and (b) he was really rather warm. "Warm" turned out to be 39.5C. A quick trip to the Calpol bottle and Google, and we then spent another hour or so all lying rather pathetically in bed, and occasionally reading about sharks.

Once the Calpol had kicked in, and a small quantity of breakfast had been inserted, LittleBear's world seemed to be improving, to the extent that a large chunk of morning was gently passed playing with Lego. The planned trip to GrandmaBear and GrandadBear was deferred, as LittleBear's temperature was still a bit on the high side, and 4 hours in the car didn't seem like a great idea. Instead I popped to the shops to acquire lunch.

When I got back, it was to a truly pathetic sight. LittleBear looked even littler than usual, curled into a ball and tucked under BigBear's arm on the sofa. The fever was spiking again, and he complained of his head and neck aching. Naturally my mind went where every parent's mind goes when hearing of fever and head/neck ache, so after spooning ibuprofen into my baby, I was straight on the phone, getting a medical assessment and a referral to the out-of-hours doctor.

The ibuprofen did very little, but an hour later, the next dose of Calpol worked its magic and we had a lovely afternoon with a happy, funny little boy. He even helped me wash the windows. (Yes, that's right, when I'm at breaking point with exhaustion, my son is sick and I almost feel physically sick with anxiety over him, my first instinct is obviously to wash windows. Naturally.) At the appointed time, we popped down to the emergency doctor. And had to wait an hour. But we had a dinosaur sticker book, which amply filled the time, rather to my surprise. We didn't even have to wheel out the back-up dinosaur encyclopedia or Winnie the Pooh.

When we eventually saw the emergency doctor, he was reassuring about the state of LittleBear, full of information about what would constitute a panic-worthy set of symptoms, and also very firm that with a fever that high we had done the right thing in seeking medical attention. He did recommend dioralyte rehydration salts though. Oh dear. We tried to give LittleBear some, but once there were tears and snot smeared over every available surface and person and he was looking strangely red and blotchy with hysteria, the 15ml I'd persuaded him to ingest seemed more than enough. We promised that if he drank plenty of water we wouldn't make him have any more today. And I've frozen the rest in an ice-cube tray so he can crunch them up if need be. Just have to remember not to put those ice-cubes in my gin... <shudder>

And despite all of the above, I've had one of the nicest days I've had in a while. Whether this is a testament to how crappy the last few weeks have been, or whether it's the simple pleasure of having both my Bears home together for a whole day for the first time in three weeks, or whether it was just that other than being ill my LittleBear was a quiet, loving, lovely little poppet all day I don't know. But it wasn't as bad a day as a dangerously high fever, and an hour and a half in an emergency doctor's surgery should have made it. Happy Easter everyone!

Oh, and what could say "Easter" better than a cuddly Opabinia? So here we go, a project finally finished tonight:


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