A Pox on Thee!
< div>Why does a diagnosis, a label make things so much
easier?
on Søren’s legs weren’t actually ant bites, and having gotten our phone
service back, Aodán into the three day old routine of the new school
year, and being totally exhausted from Søren waking at 3 am
uncomfortable, inconsolable and ready to wrestle for three hours, we broke down
and went to the doctor’s yesterday. And I was surprised at how happy I felt to
have Søren’s misery officially labelled chickenpox. I’ve been thinking
about the power these simple labels
have.
Knowing this is chicken pox, I am
suddenly much more patient with Søren — it no longer feels like I am
purely a slave to the whims of a small tyrant who will never, ever let me pursue
my own interests again. He’s uncomfortable and I am Comfort Personified. And
it won’t last forever. Delving just a bit into the really personal, it’s like
having PMS confirmed as PMS and realizing you’re not actually crazy, mean, or
unfit for human society, and you can be a bit more patient with yourself, which
actually makes you a little bit easier for everyone else to be
around.
Anyway, chicken pox! The
doctor hadn’t seen a case in a very long time. Aodán and Xander have
both had immunizations for it. Raven and I have both had it. I am not able to
totally quarantine the poor child, since we have to pick Aodán up from
school each day, but I’ll avoid pregnant women and other infants for a while. I
am considering the nickname “Germ Magnet” for the little guy — I have never
known a child to get sick so many times in his first nine months, but he’ll have
a fine immune system by the time he’s in school, I guess. We are relatively
isolated even, it’s hard to make room for much play dating when you’ve got three
kids with different needs and abilities (I fear the older two strike terror into
the hearts of those poor first time mothers of Søren’s cohort) and while
it’s nice to not have a long list of people to call and warn that they’ve been
exposed to chicken pox, it’s even more of a relief not to sit and blame the
person who unwittingly exposed us to the germ, always a rational game to play
when you’re up and worried about a fever at three in the morning. And there’s a
grace in letting him be sick and resting that I am fully taking advantage
of.
