Have I mentioned before how I have a very queasy stomach? And a hyper-sensitive gag reflex?
Pretty much every significant event in my adult life has involved vomit.
Just so ya know.
Engagement, wedding, birth of each child…
It’s funny, though. I could change my own kids’ stinky diapers, but put me on diaper duty in the church nursery? Fuhgetaboutit. Not pretty.
Vomit is another story.
(I sure hope you’ve already eaten.)
Somehow our home has managed to avoid all the stomach bugs and flu and nastiness going around for the entire year. My hairdresser credits the bowl of cherry tomatoes that sits on our kitchen counter. Antioxidants and all that.
It could also have something to do with the obsessive hand-washing that I have
In any case, we’ve been very, very lucky.
Until this week.
Griffin woke up on Thursday morning with a sore throat, tummy ache, ear ache, and fever. He was moaning on the floor next to the toilet when I woke up. Michael gave him some ibuprofen, and I sent him back to bed…with a bowl.
Thirty minutes later, it was time for Meghan, Nathan & me to get in the car and take Meghan to school. I went upstairs to get Nathan and check on Griffin – just as he was throwing up. In the bowl.
Now, vomit in the toilet is one thing. Vomit in a bowl is something entirely different.
Mother Of The Year tried to get near him to pat his back and almost had to leave the room. So she stood an arm’s length away with her head turned, covering her nose and mouth and trying to say between coughing and gagging, “It’s OK, buddy.”
But it was still time to leave. So Mother Of The Year left her vomiting son (who had somehow managed to get to the toilet and emptied the bowl) and took her other child to school, all the while taking very deep breaths and talking herself down and trying not to think about The Bowl.
Very sensitive gag reflex. Like I said.
The short version of the story is that I was able to get him into the doctor that morning, and he tested positive for strep throat. Bad because it’s strep throat, but good because of antibiotics and a quick 24 hour quarantine before he’s non-contagious.
He stayed home from school on Friday, too – although he was jumping around and feeling great, which is a little annoying. “Can you at least pretend that you’re sick?” I begged. If you’re staying home from school, then you’re gonna be in bed. That’s the rule. Not so easily enforced. So Wii basketball in the chair was the compromise.
By that afternoon, the fever was gone, the sore throat was gone, and (thank you, God) the vomiting was gone. The Bowl, however, stayed in the bathroom for a little while longer until I could psych myself up enough to bring it downstairs, put a squirt or a full bottle of liquid soap in, and leave it to soak until my dear stomach-of-steel husband could come home and clean it out.
One vomiter in the house is enough, thank you.