I am both too old and too young for this!

So The Child is still working Its way through the bout with Fifth Disease. And the DH is working his way through a bout with...I don't even know. Something vile, and vicious and involving his poor respiratory system. And what of yours truly? Well, I seem to have magically (at least thus far) been spared all of the aforementioned yuckys and ickys, but have instead been graced with a manifestation of Parvovirus b19 which happens to be peculiar to adult women: fake rheumatoid arthritis. As in, it isn't technically that ailment that many of my fellow Hoosiers still refer to as "the rheumatiz." It just feels like it. And looks like it. In other words: creepy, creepy creepy. And it's still barely even close to Halloween!!

My poor, barely-recovered torn ankle ligament feels (and looks!) like it's right back at week 3, post-tear, which is just plain spooky. I find myself suddenly thinking things like, "have I been wrong to have not been listening to scientologists all these years I've lived in SoCal?" But, luckily, those thoughts generally pass fairly quickly, especially when I remember that I'm way to broke at this point to be a scientologist even if I wanted to be. Also, not a celebrity enough. And these days, in California, I don't even know if the Scientologists would take me even if I was a celeb, broke as I am...nobody in this state can afford charity cases these days, even famous ones. *sigh*

So anyway, here I am , just barely 30-something, with joints that- from the knees down, at least- feel about 70 years old. And, along with my sense of youthfulness, I also seem to have lost a great deal of my newfangled, new-momist ideals regarding dealing with a sick The Child. I have now resorted to attempting to dribble cough medicine and prednisone into The Child's mouth whilst It sleeps, which makes me feel like some sinister poisoner-wife in a Lifetime Movie. (Or, as my friend brought up, "very Grosse Point Blank of (me)." LOL!) Amazing how all my hifalutin concepts go straight down the crapper after 2-3 nights of sparse sleep punctuated with frequent, heartrending cries of "MOM!! MOM!! MOM HELP IT HUUUUURRRRRTTTTS MEEEE MOM OH MOM!!!!!" Of course, by the time I am sufficiently panicked/awake enough to respond, The Child has descended once more into peaceful snores.

I've been drinking massive, and I mean massive, quantities of homemade nettle, raspberry leaf, rose hip, alfalfa and spearmint tea, all of which are reputed to have immune-strengthening and/or anti-inflammatory properties. If I don't get smoothly oiled joints, at least I'll get insanely hydrated. So there's my little silver lining. Also, the teas are surprisingly scrummy, which ain't half bad, either.

Okay, I'm off to try to stuff something other than popcorn into my face before the next outbreak of shrieking from The Child. Toodles!

Whatever Happened to Diseases 1-4??

Hooray!!

I'm back home, safe and...well, more or less sound.

So The Child has been a right little monster for the past almost-week, and I myself have been feeling more than a little under-the-weather, as well. I mean, not to brag, (okay, to brag just a little...) but The Child is, for the most part, as close to an angel as can possibly be expected from any toddler. However, in the past almost-week, The Child has manifested an almost preternatural, diametric change in temperament into a shrieking, hitting, literally crockery-flinging beast-on-wheels. And that just ain't right, right? I know!

I myself have had that charmant "did someone beat the crap outta me when I wasn't paying attention?" feeling for the past almost-week, as well. And, since I really have been paying real strict attention to whether I've been beaten or not, I did finally come to the conclusion that my problem is most likely pathogenic (as opposed to surreptitious-beatingic) in origin.

The Child, even when quite demonstrably damaged, inevitably answers "good" or "fine" to any/all questions regarding personal well-being, so a trip to the doctor was in the cards. And, hooray(!) they could take us this afternoon! After a screaming and kicking fight with The Child regarding the necessity of wearing pants when venturing out, we were off to the doc's office...thankfully less than a 10 minute drive from my garage.

As The Child and I were walking into the medical building, I noticed that Its cheeks were almost cartoonishly pink. The doc noticed it straightaway, as well, and he also noticed something else.

"Does (The Child) usually have this marking on (Its) arms? I know (The Child) is extremely fair-skinned, but this mottled-looking redness on (Its) arms...is this normal for (The Child)?"

Okay, so...whoa. No, doctor, that weird, zombie-esque mottled redness is most certainly NOT normal for The Child!! In fact, I can't imagine that it would be normal for anyone who hadn't been in recent physical contact with Rogue during the climactic final scene of an X-Men movie. Which, btw, The Child has not been filming. (I know this, because if It had, I would've been endorsing those juicy Equity checks, and I haven't.)

Our pediatrician has got his "Talking-to-the-Parent/s-Look" down to a flat-out science, and so, after pointing out the zombification that (yet another) genius-mom had overlooked, he turned and twinkled The Look out at me with particular intensity.

"(Its) ears look fine. And (Its) throat looks fine. Now, have you heard of Fifth Disease? Because what we have here appears to be Fifth Disease."

I was all, "OMG! I totally have heard of Fifth Disease! What the heck is Fifth Disease!?" Because if one thing can be reliably said about your truly, it is that I almost inevitably say something unbelievably inane and/or redundant when I am surprised. The pediatrician twinkled soothingly at me, and explained that it is "one of the childhood diseases" and that I can expect the child "to behave this way for about another 3 weeks. So just give (It) tylenol and aveeno baths as needed. And (in answer to my dawning-horror driven query) yes, it is contagious." And yes, I most likely did have "some sort of related viral infection," which would explain my enormously swollen mouth and tonsils, as well as the post-beatingesque malaise.

In my haste to get the heck out of the office and buy myself, er....uh, I mean, buy The Child some quick relief in the form of "big kid" chewable tylenol, I completely neglected to ask what TF exactly are Diseases One through Four.

Dr. Google, here I come!