The digital thermometer has taken up residence on the kitchen windowsill. On the counter, just to the left of it, stand two bags of cough drops, two bottles of Junior Motrin, and two packages of chewable Children’s Tylenol. Also present is a long-neglected and, until recently, barely used bottle of Robitussin. I had to reach into the recesses of our cabinet to find that one, and was grateful to discover it there, behind bottles of vitamins and chewable vitamin C.
The newest member of this collection of medicines: a very Heavy-Duty cough syrup that contains codeine and so must be taken Sparingly. A small, two-teaspoon dose of that stuff almost makes me forget I’m sick, but also makes me want to lie still and prone for hours together, always on the edge of sleep, my mind occupied with harrowing thoughts of the Most Negative variety which are (only barely) combatted successfully with the mental recitation of Great Is Thy Faithfulness.
Today is my third day out sick from work, and also Bill’s third. It’s Will’s third day out from school. Emma Grace brought this home to us early last week, but seemed to shed it soon enough and finished out the week Just Fine. It was Everett’s temp (registered on the school thermometer at 101) that sent him home early on Friday, and the rest of us thought we had escaped it until Sunday morning, when Will and I both awoke “feeling all achy.” Bill started Sunday night, just after the Super Bowl.
And so on Monday everyone was at home but Emma Grace, who went off to school bravely enough. Everett didn’t register a fever at all that day, and so he’s been back at it (school, I mean) for two days now.
Bill and I were abed yesterday, trying to quell our incessant and painful coughing with the meager (but, it must be admitted, not-negative-thought-inducing) powers of Robitussin, when the phone rang. Emma Grace was in the nurse’s office; temperature? 101, thank you very much.
I’m wiping out the sinks with disinfectant regularly. I’m washing the hand-towels at least once a day. We all have new toothbrushes. We’re remembering to wash our hands. And in between it all, I am still the mother, managing the laundry, managing the dishes, managing the meals, and making sure everyone is drinking his fluids.
We will get through this.
Eventually.
