Flu, Fevers and the ENT
I need to get this all out so that I don’t go into that place. You know the one. The one that when you get so far in, you don’t know if it’s easier to turn around or keep going, because who knows which is faster?
It started on Sunday afternoon with a fever. It turned into me subbing out my Monday morning class because I was so miserable, I couldn’t fathom lifting weights. Then I subbed out Monday night because spinning wasn’t happening, either.
Tuesday I was going to power through, but Matt flew out in the afternoon and my fever spiked again, so I asked, again, for a sub. Wednesday morning I felt good. I felt strong. Mom came over to watch the kids and I was set to go to the gym. I got there, I started warm up, and oh, woah…why am I so lightheaded? I powered through, came home and immediately had chills. Fever came back.
Last night, I was up at 2 with full on chills, the fever started an hour later, and I couldn’t fall back asleep until 5. I didn’t get out of bed until nearly 8. By that time I had cancelled my 8:30 am class, and felt terrible for doing so.
And all while I’m sick, so was Audrey…and Mae…and now Claire.
I’ve been to the doctors’ twice now. Once for Audrey, and another for Claire’s startling temp of 105.
It’s viral, they said. Ears look good, nose looks good, throat looks good. It’s just a really nasty virus.
And during all of these doctor’s visits, I never once asked them to look me over. Never once. I don’t know why. I’ve gotten so good at putting myself on the back burner these days that I didn’t even consider it.
So on top of feeling physically down, I met with the ENT for Luca today, as well. He was looked over by several people and when the doctor came in, he didn’t mince words. He looked at the sheet I filled out about how he’s been ill. Looked at him. Listened to my recording of him sleeping. Asked me my concerns. Then he said, “OK, we need to schedule this. But I’m going to tell you right away, it’s a difficult procedure for him. It’s very painful.”
I’m a nurse. I know that, obviously, any surgery in a throat and sinuses is going to be painful. But hearing him say that to me, with those kind, but deliberate eyes, made me feel that awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Am I making the right decision?
Matt’s out of town. I feel sick. I am sick. I feel alone. And then there’s this little guy who is so excited to show Claire the spiderman sticker he got for being brave.
“Am I getting my tonsils out today, mom?”
And I explain to him, that, no, it needs to be done when you’ll be home for three weeks, so you can have time to get better. I tell him that I need to set up people to come and help me while you get better. And people are going to be so excited to spend time with you, and they’ll bring you ice cream and applesauce and make you all the smoothies you can handle.
Then we get to the car, and I sit for a minute and try to keep it together, because my baby is going to be getting surgery and I’m scared, but I can’t show him that I am, because he sees everything, so I get it together, and drive us home.
This week alone has been so trying. But to throw in where I’ve been with sick kids since March, I’m so ready for this to be done. Two weeks ago I spent the better part of the evening into the early morning while Luca was in the ER being given IV fluids because of dehydration because of these tonsils. He doesn’t eat. So I know that he’s not going to eat after surgery. He won’t. I know that I’m going to most likely be spending time at the ER giving him fluids, because he’s stubborn and won’t drink because it’ll hurt. No matter what I give him, it’ll hurt.
He’s lost 3 pounds since the beginning of May, which doesn’t seem like a lot to some, but he’s 6 and only 40 pounds. He doesn’t have a lot of room to loose.
But as my friend Jen said, “Prepare for the worst, and maybe it won’t happen. Just take it one hour at a time.”
I’ve already sent an email out to family asking for dates and times where I’ll need help. I already know that I cannot do this alone with just Matt and me. We just can’t.
Right now I’m in the processing phase of all the news. Maybe tomorrow it’ll seem a little better, a little more manageable. But until then, I have just over a month of worry until the big day. I’m usually so strong. I usually don’t let people know I’m scared. But this is bigger than me and I think it’s okay that I’m scared.
I just really want Matt home.