Key Issues

Mom, MD

That's how it feels sometimes, anyway. Today, I was particularly slow with the diagnosis.

Woke sevenish. Passed back out. Woke on the hour until around eleven, at which point, I refused to sloth in bed any longer, despite the fact that I felt as though I had been sedated.

I puttered much of the day, slowly accomplishing simple goals, such as feeding children and folding laundry, until I eventually noticed that one Miss Priss was demanding most of my attention, while the youngest remained curiously quiet...

Finding him curled up in the lazy boy, looking cherubic, I immediately took his temp. 104. Great.

As he is just recovering from bronchitis, I immediately feared pneumonia and an ER visit. I asked him what hurt. "Nothing."

Motrin it is.

So I cooked a pot of chili, fed kids. Sick one played it in a bit, then developed chills. I tucked him under covers, and went back to the kitchen to pour myself a bowl, stopping short as a wave of nausea perished the thought. And it suddenly hit me that most 4 year olds do not recognize the feeling of nausea until it reaches the level of "I need to throw up!"

Uggh. Good news: He does not have pneumonia; rather, he has a stomach bug. Bad news: So do I.

Within the past hour - as I chatted with my gurl, begging for her company this weekend - I finally managed to choke down a half cup full of oyster crackers flavored with a bit of chili. And I figure, if I can keep this bug in my system for another month or so, perhaps I can actually be rid of that last fifteen pounds without my discipline issues sabotaging the plan.