Sick Day

It’s like having a baby in the house again, only we didn’t get 9 months to prep. 

Connor’s had a cold for the past 9 days.  It started with an asthmatic cough last Friday? Saturday? (I don’t even remember anymore) where he couldn’t get his breath.  He’s been on the nebulizer every 4 hours (Albuterol), and taking Pulmicort every 12 hours.  This treatment is working, marginally, to loosen his lungs so that the incessant cough becomes slightly productive.  However, either Bill or I have been up with him twice a night for the past week, giving him treatments, propping him up in bed, and otherwise trying to get his body to quiet down.

With great hopes, I planned to run on Saturday with my Saturday Morning running group.  I’ve been home with a sick child for 5 days straight during the Christmas season, which means all my shopping and wild madness has come to a complete standstill.  I haven’t seen an adult in days and desperately needed the exercise, routine, and friendship a running group provides.

Sadly, Saturday morning was just like the other mornings.  I dressed in my running clothes only to hear the beginning strains of a coughing fit, signaling that sleep was over.  Since I was already up, I didn’t feel like I could ignore the needs of my child, run out the door, and force Bill to get up and give Connor the breathing treatments.  With a big sigh I embraced my parenthood and took care of my sick boy.  With a little (secret) sigh of relief, I realized I didn’t have to go running on Whiterock Trail in 20 degree weather with a sore throat (thanks Connor).  I curled up with him in his bed, pulled the comforter around my shoulders, and drifted in and out of sleep to the hum of the nebulizer.  My tiredness was apparent even to me, and the secret sigh of relief I felt at not running in 20 degree weather got a little bigger when I realized that I had no energy to run, at all.

I hoped all through the morning that timing would work out so I could sneak out for even a quick 5K in the sunny 45-degree afternoon.  After Sophie and I got home from her Championship basketball game (her team won) and Bill and Connor returned from the Doctor’s office, the kids got involved with their parallel activities, Connor started coughing again, lunch had to be made, Bill went to Costco to pick up prescriptions and the last of the stocking stuffers and I… started losing my mind.  Cabin fever hit me like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz.  Sophie’s  pecking at Connor was hen-nish, and I embraced my parenthood once again.  Bill returned home, I packed Sophie into the car and left for a flurry or errands, any errand I could think of was fair game.  Just…to…get…out…of…the…house.

So.  No running yesterday, unless you count the mental laps.

By 8 PM Connor was finally, blissfully, asleep.  I crawled into my bed next to a very sad little 10-year-old who is jealous of the attention Sick Boy is receiving from Mommy.  She cuddled right up next to me, and we both let sleep take us to the magical place we only dream of during the day.

The big news is that HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!!  It was 5:56 when the coughing started, which is 15 minutes shy of a full 10 hours of deep, restful sleep.  I feel pretty darn good this morning, and am watching the colors in the sunrise deepen as I type.  It’s 28 degrees this fine morning, which is a VAST improvement from yesterday’s 20 degrees.  The neb treatments have been completed, medicine has been administered, Bill is up making coffee and I am READY to RUN.  Woo-hoo!!