August 27th, 2009 by

Sick Day

For all of Danny’s health issues in his life, the kid has a remarkable immune system. We got through the last winter with very few sick days, and the summer has been the same. Online, at times, I’m asked how many doctors are following him … and the answer is none. Well, not quite. He has a pediatrician, of course, and we see his neurologist once every 6-12 months at the NICU follow up clinic, but that’s it these days.

It would seem that he saves getting sick for the really good ones.

Of course, that’s an exaggeration. A stomach bug is nowhere near “sick” when it comes to Danny vocabulary. I’m not sure I’ll ever see “sick” in the same light again. Regardless, I went to get Danny up and ready for school last Wednesday and smelled a smell. I grumbled and went and got some wipes, thinking he had filled his diaper in his sleep.

I should have known it would be worse than that if I was smelling it in the hallway through the closed door. Walking into Danny’s room, I knew it was no filled diaper. Vomit covered half his crib, and half of him.

Ew.

One stripping and wiping down later, he slid out of my arms and fell back to sleep naked (with diaper) on the floor before I could even get him a bath or clothes.

He crawled over to me not long later, letting me get him dressed and demanding I get some food into him. Of course, it was a fight. I, in my brilliance, decided since we weren’t working on anything particularly tough to eat (I’d stuck to the BRAT diet of kids and stomach bugs and grabbed a banana), I’d try to get him to feed himself instead of playing baby bird and just opening his mouth for me.

Obviously, he was not interested.

Suitably fed, he turned around and did what I’d expected earlier: filled his diaper, with force. Once bath and change of clothes later, it was time to hang out. We tried playing, but he was in no mood for that, so instead we cuddled and he did a good job of being miserable. I snuck the scissors out, thinking I had a brilliant time: he was being still! That never happens. So I cut his hair. Poor kid got one heck of a hack job, but his hair was all over his ears and the back of his neck. Trims are good.

Eventually, he wiggled and slid from my grasp again, crawled away to find a favorite toy to hold, and fell asleep.

And woke in a much better mood, allowing us to enjoy the second half of our sick day with rousing games of peek-a-boo, so big, walking, and lots of sound and speech.

Plus a huge heaping of mama loving, the best medicine of all.

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