We've all heard of it before. We've heard the horror stories of what The Force can do. How silly it can make moms and dads look. How stupid and irrational it can make us feel. And, we've heard the unfortunate stories of when The Force is no longer with you.
Yesterday I experienced the power of The Force myself, and I hope it never happens again.
It started sometime Monday. Harvey was acting funny, whiney, low-grade fever. Then he didn't eat dinner and was in bed by 7:00. That's an hour early for our wild man. Something was brewing for sure. Not being one to jump the gun during cold and flu season, we waited.
Tuesday, same deal. Runny nose, not eating, low-grade to sometimes real fever (101), extra clingy, just overall not really himself. There were a few glimmers of hope right after a good dose of Tylenol or Motrin, but overall he seemed sick. Tuesday night---no dinner and bed by 7 again. And, he let me rock him to sleep. Extra weird.
Oh, and I failed to mention John was up in the middle of the night with him on Monday and Tuesday nights. He was sweaty and his bedding was soaked. So let's add night sweats to the list. Check!
Wednesday morning he's moaning, his right eye is pink, he's running right around 101 (100.2 in one ear, 101.1 in the other. Why do those thermometers do that?!), he's all congested and coughing. So John and I decide it's time to go to the doctor. After three days we no longer feel like we're being "those parents" who run to the doctor all the time. He doesn't eat breakfast, he cried after he coughed, and he was just pitiful. I make an appointment for 3:00 (right in the middle of nap time, no less), feed him an early lunch (which he didn't eat) and put him to bed early.
I packed up some uneaten items from his lunch, grabbed some toys and loaded the car. When I went to get Harvey up from nap, he's soaked with sweat. With each symptom, I'm feeling more and more affirmed in our decision to go on to the doctor. He's a zombie in the back seat throughout our entire 30 minute ride.
Enter: The Force.
We get out of the car and walk into the doctor's office, and I'm confused as to where my child has gone. The child I had been with for the last three days was pale, clingy, pink eye-ish, sad, and overall lethargic. The child that I was now following all around the waiting room was energetic, giggling, laughing, dancing, playing with toys----giddy. What in the world?
He played out there for a good 15-20 minutes (busy day full of pretend sick children I suppose)before we go back into the exam room. In the exam room, Harvey keeps asking to "eat eat eat!". So I pulled out what I had from his lunch and he ate it. All of it. And kept asking for more. They take his temperature----obviously, 98.6. The doctor comes in and Harvey yells "Hi!", with a big grin. Yup, pretty darn sick. I told his doctor about his miraculous recovery in the waiting room, and he told me it was The Force. The one we've all heard about, that makes sick children suddenly better right before they see a doctor. I was still kinda hoping we would find something to justify our visit and copay (note: I obviously would never want there to be something wrong with my child. My pride was just taking a serious hit).
Ears: perfect. Throat: totally good. Chest: sounds great! Pink-ish red eye: looking clear. He was in, out and done in 2 minutes or less. Off to check on someone who actually brought in a sick child or something. He was nice enough to acknowledge that it's a catch 22. You bring your child in: he's totally fine. You don't bring him in: he suffers through an ear infection for several days before you finally take him in. After his ear drum ruptures. It's true, that's really how it works.
We went to see John at work, I ran a couple of errands with him, and then we met up with John and had a family dinner date. And Harvey.was.amazing. So well behaved, he drank out of a big boy kids cup and didn't act like a monkey in the zoo. Amazing.
Today: back at it again. Fever was 101.4 in one ear and 102 in the other (again, driving me crazy), runny eyes and nose. But he ate 5 Bagel Bites like a champ at lunch. At least his appetite for carbs and cheese is on the up and up.
So we carry on. It's probably just a weirdo virus that will work itself out in a few days. I'm thinking we just need to go play in the pediatrician's office more often. Miracles happen there.
After you're done here....
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