As we begin a new month of quarantine, I was thinking about what I’m particularly grateful for today. And the word that keeps popping into my head is sickness, or the lack thereof.
I’ve talked a lot about sickness when it comes to my family (mostly my children), and how we’re always fighting something. We’re generally ill from November through May, passing different variations back and forth among the four of us. Over the years, we’ve missed countless parties, events, excursions, holidays, you name it. Sometimes our symptoms are mild and sometimes we end up at the ER, although thankfully the last time that happened was one year ago almost to the day (another thing for which I’m grateful!).
My son generally gets the brunt of it because his colds almost always move to his lungs—his danger zone thanks to his bouts with RSV in 2017 (another ER stay), when he was just over a year old, and then croup at the beginning of 2019. Whenever I hear this kid cough, even the briefest, tiniest, most microscopic inkling of a cough, my insides turn over, my heart starts pounding and drops into my stomach, and my anxiety soars through the roof.
In fact, this happened about a month ago—not long before schools closed. He woke up in the middle of the night with, of course, a barking cough and off we went … nebulizer treatments, humidifier, steroids, calls and visits to the doctor, no sleep for days, panic and anxiety attacks, all the goods. I am not even close to embellishing when I tell you this kid didn’t stop coughing for almost four days straight. It was incessant, barely even a second would pass before the next wave would hit. All day, every day (and night). Nothing helped. Well, that’s not true. The only thing that helped was steam from the shower. Over and over again I would blast the hot water and just let him stand there playing with his toys…he loved every minute of it (and I got my hot second of relief, too). 😊
Yes, now I can smile about the memory, but I wasn’t smiling then, let me tell you. I was petrified and going mentally insane from listening to him cough and watching how the strength of it forced the veins to bulge out of his cute little neck. It was crazy and scary as hell. Gives me chills just thinking about it. The only silver lining during that time was that—for once!—the virus didn’t move to his chest, so there were no breathing issues other than when he couldn’t catch his breath from the racking cough. We suspect it was just a severe drip from his runny, congested nose, but because he’s only 4, he obviously doesn’t know how to rid his small body of all the mucus that builds up when he gets sick (sorry for the TMI, but holy cow does this kid get mucus!!). Unfortunately, we as parents can only do so much in situations such as these. But within a week, my baby was a lot better (though it seemed much, much longer from where I was standing)! In fact, he had pretty much just gotten back on his feet and back to school (after a whole week out sick) when all the COVID-19 pandemonium hit.
Anyways, the point of this story comes back to what I’m most grateful for today. And that is the fact that we have not been sick in almost a month—during flu season no less!—because schools are closed, and we’ve been on strict quarantine for two-and-a-half weeks. As difficult and challenging as it is being housebound and home schooling, and as much as we’re all feeling stir-crazy and getting on each other’s nerves, I will forever be thankful for that. That’s my silver lining on this beautiful Wednesday afternoon, this first day of April.
Of course, I’m still scared and anxious over what’s happening in our world. My children’s breathing issues and propensity to get sick are my primary motivations for taking this quarantine so seriously. I’ve seen what a simple cold does to my kids—especially my son. So, when I hear about a novel virus that attacks the respiratory system and could lead to pneumonia (which both of my kids have already had in their short lives, I might add) … oh, hell no. There’s just no way I’m letting them leave this house, irrational or not.
For once, I can rest easy knowing my babies are safe and sound here with me, inside our happy, cozy, comfy cocoon. And I will take comfort in that for as long as I’m able.