Sick Week (40, for those of you counting with me)

Trainwreck!

That about sums up the past week.

Sunday, Daniel's eye looks a little pink starting about about 7:30 am. By noon, full blown pink eye. Call the pharmacy...they want a doctor to authorize a refill of his eye drop prescription. I'm not willing to wait until the doctor's office get back to them. So I call the doctor and the on-call guy prescribes what he calls the "cadillac of eyedrops." We give them to Daniel when we get back home from running errands and again right before bed.

Monday. I'm home from work because Daniel needs 24 hours on meds before he can return to daycare. He wakes up right about six with his left eye swollen like he got bit by something nasty and sealed with nasty goop. I get his eyes cleaned up and give him drops. (That's the last we see of nasty goop...the doctor wasn't kidding. Vigamox...write that down.) Daniel's remembered mommy's "wave the mardi gras bear" rouse from the last bout with pink eye. Squirming, kicking, dodging, screaming, tearing, and other attempts to hinder mom's mission ensue. Daddy's help will be necessary for the next dose.

Also, the innocent little cough he's had for a week suddenly grows horns. Uh oh. I know that cough. I've had that cough. I've needed copious amounts of Robo for that cough. But as suddenly as it shows up, it disappears. The coughing come and goes during the week. By Thursday, I'm coughing uselessly as well. (As is half of Rob's co-workers.)

On Friday, I take Daniel to the doctor just to be reassured the child is not developing pneumonia. He's not. He's got the same nasty chest cold as half of the kids in Baton Rouge, and an ear infection to boot. Poor guy. Anyhow, instead of a few seconds of fighting for one drop of medicine in each eye, the doctor is prescribing a treatment which involves holding a plastic mask to Daniel's face. For seven MINUTES. Well, at least he likes the antibiotics.

Its Saturday now. Twenty-four hours after Daniel's first 102.5 fever, his temp is normal and Mommy's now coughing more than he is. (A LOT more.) But despite his mostly playful demeanor, he's thrown up lunch and has no appetite. I'm concerned about dehydration, but Cousin Andrea tells me not to worry too much. He'll eat when he's hungry. That makes me feel better.

Poor little monkey.