Monday, January 12, 2009

Strep and other maladies

My daughter is with my parents this morning. She said it hurt to swallow yesterday afternoon, and she was coughing about once an hour throughout the day. Towards 7pm she started to feel warm. By 9pm her temp was 99.4. I was determined she would make it to school today at that point. By 11pm her temp was over 100 and I was forced to revise my plans. This morning, while still in bed in her pj's, her temp read 101. By the time she got dressed and my parents were standing in our kitchen ready to take her to the doctor to have a throat culture done, it had gone down to 100.2. Of course. She never has a fever when she is actually at the doctor's office. At this point, the three of them are chillin' at Village Inn. Doctor isn't available to do the culture until 2 this afternoon. By then, Leo (I've decided to call my husband Leo) should be back in town and he can take her. My parents are 74 years old and it can be a struggle to have the energy to run all over town multiple times a day. This morning, my mother especially, looked fragile bathed in the flouresent light in the kitchen. I wish my husband had known them when they were younger, when they were more vibrant and less temperamental. In a lot of ways, I've already said good-bye to them. They are still here, but not as they were. Just as my sweet baby is gone, and my toddler is gone, and my pre-schooler is gone forever. It seems aging is a constant exercise in saying good-bye.

2 comments:

gudnuff said...

Don't get me wrong...I love the 8-year-old who is almost as tall as my chin, who can laugh at my jokes, tell me about her day. I love that my parents will celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary this summer, that they are able and available to help out, and are willing to. I love that I still, as old as I am and as old as they are, I still can feel their love for their little girl (me). I am so lucky/blessed/grateful to have them with me still. Aging is also an exercise in saying hello. It's just that I'm given to wallowing in nostalgia (or despair, or melancholy, or bittersweetness or poignancy...basically, I am a wallower at my core). While I can recognize and do appreciate the gains that come from change/aging, I keenly feel the sense of loss along with it. Images of my mother when she was, say, 58 instead of 74, or of my precious daughter when she was truly my babydoll infant that I rocked in the rocking chair with her swaddled in blankets after a bath, those images haunt me like ghosts.

Hyphen Mama said...

I already miss the babyness of my kids. Mack is only 2 1/2 but he's so not a baby anymore. I miss Wynnie's sweetness as she's moved into a sassy 5 year-old. I also can't imagine watching my parents age. Currently they're 60 & 62.

I hope your daughter doesn't have a bad virus!