I don't even want to think that Minky has swine flu, not because I'm scared of the flu itself, but I'm trying to have faith, as my sister-in-law has taught me. Also h1n1 is an enormous drag -- it has to be said. As it is, she's on the nebulizer, inhaling albuterol while watching Gossip Girl, has managed to down a bowl of pasta thanks to LemSip day flu formula plus ibuprofen for the aches and pains in her legs, and I've put a vaporizer in her room so that she has some moisture. There have been a couple of therapeutic two-minute whole-body hugs (a Reiki thing without doubt), a lying in the bed with a normal cup of tea for me and one with masses of sugar and milk for her, a hello to her friends on video ichat, and a cupped in my arms moment or two to assure her, my nearly fifteen year old pumpkin, that swine flu is not in the cards and no, she certainly will not die from it.
But as Minky has had asthma since birth, the effing (Pediatrician's office) nurse's questions piss me off more than a little:
Office Nurse "So is she wheezing now?"
Me "No, actually all the time."
ON "So, when she plays, Mommy?" (that's what they call you -- MOMMY)
Me "She's 14. She doesn't play."
ON "So during sports, yes, Mommy?"
Me "No, chronically and all the time."
My irritation is so acute I dare not speak. But I do.
"I know the doctor isn't there today but would you mind calling in an inhaler to the pharmacy, please?"
"Has she had this medication before?"
"Um, don't you have her file in front of you?"
I creeped in her room at 5am and she's sleeping soundly. I held my hand above her head, not on it for fear of waking her, to detect fever. I checked that the mister was working, told the dogs to be quieter, closed the door.
Why is it that even when our children are almost old enough to drive cars we still feel compelled to go into their rooms in the middle of the night to make sure they are still breathing?