I hate when my kids are sick.
And the worst thing about it is when they are too young to tell you what’s wrong. Even if they can speak, trying to figure out what is really wrong with them, requires special powers.
Case in point – my four year old is sick. AGAIN. She came home today and I took one look at her face and I knew she wasn’t well. She wasn’t her usual smiley self, so I wasn’t surprised when a few hours later, she was fire hot and completely miserable.
So, as any mom of a young child will do, I tried to figure out what was wrong.
Me: What’s wrong bunny, what hurts?
4yo: My tummy hurts.
Me: Your tummy hurts?
4: Yeah, and my head hurts two times.
Me: Your head hurts two times? What do you mean?
4: It hurts me on two spots. My ear is hurting me.
Me: Ok, so your tummy hurts, and your head and your ear?
4: My eyeball bothers me.
At his point, I may or may not have excused myself for a short visit to the liquor cabinet.
Me: Ok, bunny, so you have pain in your tummy, your head, your ear and your eyeball.
Me: Why don’t you come here and sit on my lap so I can hold you for a bit.
4: Ok, but don’t touch me. You bothers me.
Me: You want me to hold you, but not touch you? That’s impossible.
4: I need a bandaid! My finger is bleeded!!!!!
At this point, because I was worried about the fever and the fact that everything was “hurted”, I took her to the after hours clinic. We waited an hour and a half. During that time, she asked me to hold her but not touch her more times than I can count. Then, she promptly fell asleep on the chair. Eventually, thankfully, we got called in to a room.
The doctor came in and asked her how she was feeling. She smiled and said, “FINE! I not sick!”
So I, Mommy Munchausen, say, “Well doctor, I’m not exactly sure what’s wrong with her, but she has a fever, and she says she has pain in her stomach, head, ears and eyeballs. Also her finger, but that’s because she chews on it like it’s beef jerky.”
So, after a sample, a swab and a couple of stickers we headed home with the dreaded diagnosis of VIRUS, which basically tells you no more than what you knew when you arrived. Good times.