Sunday night, with his fever peaking at 103.84, I was back in oh-shit-Rachel-just-said-her-water-broke mode with one foot out the door. Time to round up the jumper cables, bottle of Clorox and the monkey wrench. Moments prior, Rachel and I had vowed that 104 was "go time" and it appeared as though the Gods were testing me.
.16 more degrees and we were off to Riverside (Heaven forbid our son ever get sick at 8:00 am on a Wednesday).
We're now pretty sure that this is the same fever he had a week ago. But prior to today, we were certain that Tenzin had conquered the evils of daycare germ warfare and had that thing kicked...
...but it was back...with a vengence...and apparently Tenzin had talked trash about its Momma.
Just to recap the week prior, those of you without children might not know this, but:
Such was the case for poor, unfortunate Rachel. We had just got done feeding Tenzin and as she went to carry him down the hall, Mauna Loa erupted and the alligator tears began. He had just received his innoculations only two days prior and was already not feeling well, but we had just assumed that it might have something to do with him acting as human pincushion at the doctor's office. Now, as Rachel stood before me, looking like she just said "I don't know" on You Can't Do That on Television, we were pretty sure he was, in fact, sick.
After the eruption, everything was pretty uneventful. Our weekend was shot, so we missed a family trip to Great-Grandmas in order to stay home and pump him full of pedialyte and OJ. He did well. He was receptive to the occasional cracker-or-two and began eating more and more. The fever inevitably broke and he was back to his high-fiving self (you've got to see it...it's pretty cool). Crisis was averted, or so we thought.
So Saturday (this week) rolls around and out of nowhere, he spikes back up to 102. He had been fine all week, but apparently just listening to Amy Winehouse on the Grammys can trasmit diseases.
We strip him down, dose him with some Motrin, start the fluids, and by morning he seems fine. I had battled a mild fever on Saturday and thought that I that I might have been the carrier, but we decided it was teething. This little man is cutting some major molars. And even I, as a kid, ran super high temperatures, so we knew that while it might be above average teething-temp, we didn't think it was impossible with my medical history.
So morning comes and he's your average everyday poopmachine, playing like a normal child in the family room with all the boxes his toys came in. He's eating regularly, drinking fluids and crying big, watery tears. All is good, yes? Then the sun goes down and he spikes back up again. He is literally on fire.
It's now Sunday night, the thermometer is almost 104, and I'm debating on wether or not I should double-knot my shoes before I jog him to the hospital. We've tried everything; he's been stripped, showered, cold compressed, rolled in the snow, wrapped in a case of beer, slooooowly unwarapped one-by-one, washed on the "delicates" cycle, and taped to a window-unit air conditioner.
This was about to be the longest .16 degrees we've ever had to wait through.
I don't have much more else to say and I'm not really sure where I was going with this post. The fever subsided and he seemed fine. Then he had a small fever again at my mom's house on Tuesday, so we snuck him in to the doctor in the afternoon. Turns out he has a half-infection in one ear, a full-blow infection in the other AND a sinus infection. I, to Rachel's dismay, requested a shot to get the antibiotics rolling and he now seems like he's getting better.
Like I said, I'm not really sure where I was going with this. Our son was sick and is now getting better again. Big deal. But there's a large part of me that really really really wants to vent and another part of me that should probably just let it go.
Basically, this is now his 4th strain of antibiotics in 16 months and it's driving me crazy. I hate the fact that he's taking them because I feel like they're detrimental to his immune system. But what are we supposed to do? There aren't any options. If we leave the ear infections as they are, he could lose his hearing (which could always be a plus, considering we're going to Phoenix in two days and Brandi likes to whistle). So give him the antibiotics and let him get well. Yes?
But it's the ear infections. I know a lot of this is par for the "winter" course and four infections is on the high --not absurd-- end of the spectrum. But I feel like we can't go a month without the Zen being sick. It makes you feel helpless as a parent. And while I can assure you that my blessings have been counted and I understand just how fortunate we are to have a usually-healthy child, I want it to be over. Done. Finished. No more staring at his red cheeks at 3:00 in the morning. No more night sweats. No more wife covered in pink goo. Seriously. I'm almost yearning for pink eye, or lice, or poison ivy...just something other than ear infections!
Anyway, I just needed to get that off of my chest. He's a tough little guy and he bounces back super quick, but it kills me to see him lacking in spirit. There's nothing worse than seeing him lay there, lethargic, staring off into the distance.
In other news (besides the fact that the Zen is better), we'll be in wonderful Phoenix, Arizona in just 1 1/2 short days. Jared, being the wise financial advisor that he is, decided to invest in smiles and is flying us out to his neck of the desert. It's one of the best Christmas presents we've never had to unwrap. Money is tight and we couldn't even think of flying out there for family fun in the sun, so this will be a VERY WELCOME vacation. I think the day after Jared hinted at the trip, I already had my golf clubs washed, polished and bubblewrapped. We're bursting at the seams with excitement. In fact, Tenzin was so excited that he peed himself! Then he pooped a little. Then he peed again.
We can't wait!
And speaking of West Coast, happy birthday to Deena. She and Chris just returned from a much-deserved birthday vacation in Las Vegas. Happy three decades, ya old fart!