I am officially over it.
If you have no desire to read on as I whine, bitch and moan for the next 750 words, I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But I have to get this out.
I have had a stomach thing going on now since Tuesday dinner. For those of you not looking at a calendar, it’s now Friday past dinner. Except I haven’t eaten more than 6 saltines and a half a banana since Tuesday. I’m hungry. And grumpy. And tired of feeling like crap. Oh, and no solids means no chocolate. When was the last time I went 4 days without chocolate? Yeah, never. I don’t have any idea how anorexics do this. My brain has stopped functioning properly and I’m starting to see things. (Seriously, twice today, I thought I saw big strange things flying through the air. Scary, right?)
OK, so I’d rather be sick like this than throw up once. I have said it a million times and I stand by it. Except last night I thought Nick was sick (going around school again) and I had the most vivid dream where Maggie puked all over me. It was awful. The dream was way more involved, but I can’t even go there. It hardly seems fair to avoid puke only to have it be all you can think about.
So today we were feeding Annie and were going to try to get her out of the cage and she bit Maggie. Drew blood. Freaked us both out. Not sure what Annie’s fate is going to be, but it’s not looking so good for the little finger-biting rodent. (Here is where I get to play the rodent card.) So again to google. Google freaked me out more. I can’t go there either. We are watching for infection, but I think it looks like it’s going to heal fine. (Wild rats take a chunk out when they bite, this was not that severe at all, but still a bite. And it bled.) There is the whole rat-loving culture out there saying no worries, and then there is the CDC saying in rare instances… I can’t take much more.
Maggie finally said what we both had been thinking.
“I wish Annie had died and Jack was still alive.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
Then we got the call that Maggie’s strep culture did in fact grow more strep so it was not a false positive and she needs another round of antibiotics. Which really makes me want to cry. Hell, I did cry. I am drowning my daughter in the poison that is antibiotics. I totally get “pick your poison” now. Either the poison of the antibiotics or the poison of the strep. It makes me sick to even think about it.
Mike picked up the new antibiotic at the pharmacy (since I spent the day in my pajamas being sick) and did not have them add the flavor. He brought it home and I gave her a dose and she looked at me and said “NO!” Normally she sucks it down and asks for more. This is a 14-day prescription, 3 times a day, 2 teaspoons at each dose and it’s potent stuff. I almost started crying again. I called the pharmacy to see if they could add flavor and the pharmacist said “Uh, yes. I wondered who was going to be able to take that without flavor. It’s the worst tasting medicine we have.”
So I got out of my pajamas and went to the pharmacy and asked some more questions. The literature with this prescription basically scared the crap out of me. All I had to read was vomiting as a side effect and I was done for. Not to mention the stuff about something collapsing on itself and being fatal. Rarely. Right. Because that makes me feel so much better.
So he says I don’t have to wake her up in the middle of the night to have the doses every 8 hours. But I also feel like I can’t mess this up because this has to be the end of the strep. How much more can her little body take of these horrible medicines? It’s been most of June and now most of July. Not to mention 1/3 of February and 1/3 of April. I am over it.
I have always had a nervous stomach. At the first stress, my appetite disappears. Mike even asked me if this stomach bug was from stress. I wondered the same thing too, for the first day or two. But I am sure now that it was something actually wrong that is getting better. But really, until my kids are better (Maggie with the strep thing and Nicholas with the neurologist) I am pretty sure I’m going to be a wreck. And it sucks. And I am over it.