Sick boy

Isaac felt terrible this evening. He had chills and a 99.9 degree fever, was whiny and lethargic, and was so exhausted by 5:00 p.m. that he lay down to rest and ended up taking a nap. Every time he had to move, he cried. Instead of eating dinner he lay limply on the couch. Besides all this, I knew he was really ill because he declined ice cream. (Offering dessert to a sick child is one of my diagnostic tools.)

Joking aside, I actually called the pediatrician after office hours because Isaac was complaining of headache, which he has never had before, and I was wondering about meningitis. However, the doctor wasn't worried about that possibility -- it's lethargy and headache minus fever that equal trouble, apparently. Anyway, despite Isaac's total lack of respiratory symptoms, the doctor suggested that he had the flu. When I pointed out that he has had both the seasonal and H1N1 flu immunizations, she seemed a little concerned and told us to keep a close eye on him. Just what you don't need to tell a mother with health-related anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder!

At bedtime I helped a listless and miserable Isaac into his pajamas, read him a story, and tucked him into bed. Then I lay down next to him. He started crying and moaned, "I've never felt like this before!"

Just as my worry kicked into high gear, he abruptly threw up all over himself.

He didn't even turn his head to the side, so he started choking on his own vomit; he was like an inebriated '60s rock star. I had to pick him up and hold his head over the side of the bed so he could finish his puking on the floor.

And my first feeling upon seeing him throw up? Relief.

Vomit I understand. Vomit I can handle. I comforted him and cleaned him up and we both felt much better.

I actually deal very well with clearly defined medical events, and I am calm and controlled in real emergencies. It's when illness looms on the horizon, when it is still emerging and mysterious, that I am most nervous and uncomfortable. I hate wondering exactly how sick someone is, and how sick they are going to become. I especially hate wondering how closely I need to monitor the situation. It makes me feel sick to my stomach, too.

Even though I still don't know exactly what's wrong with Isaac, his vomiting has provided my uncertainty and worry with some resolution. But we'll still be checking on him tonight. That's not obsessive-compulsive; that's just good parenting!