Ah, the bliss of sending the kids back to school! That joy is often short-lived, though, as they quickly return home spreading every germ imaginable. Suddenly, you’re knee-deep in tissues, cough syrup, and an assortment of other “fun” symptoms like sore throats and fevers.
Since school started a few weeks ago, my two eldest have been home battling nasty viruses. As the designated nurse of the household, I’ve come to realize that I go through the following seven phases each time illness strikes:
- Denial. One morning, my son woke up sniffling and complaining of a scratchy throat. My immediate response? “Really? Are you sure? Maybe you just slept with your mouth open or something.” I check his temperature—no fever! That’s a win! I hand him a hefty dose of DayQuil and assure him he’ll feel better once he gets to school. Off he goes, right?
- Acceptance with a Dash of Panic. An hour later, I receive a call from the school nurse. My son is in her office, still complaining about that stuffy nose and scratchy throat. Oops, guess he really is sick. I bring him home, set him up in the lounge chair with a cozy blanket, some ice water, and the TV remote. My day’s plans? Canceled.
- Hope. At this stage, I cling to the hope that this cold will be the 24-hour variety. I stock up on fluids, popsicles, and soup, optimistically turning on a movie or two. Fingers crossed!
- Love and Concern. I check on my son frequently, offering him saltine crackers and chicken noodle soup, letting him lounge in bed with the TV on. I’m patient and loving, bringing cool compresses and doling out medicine every few hours. This lasts a day or two—max—before things take a turn…
- Anger. On the third day, his fever is still at 103. There’s visible vomit in the toilet that’s too high to flush, and we’ve run out of cold medicine and soup. I’m officially done with this! I call the doctor, who says it sounds like a virus and there’s no need for a visit. They remind me that viruses can linger for 5 to 7 days. No antibiotics? Great. I hang up and mutter under my breath about the lack of a cure for the common cold. Serenity now!
- Depression. By day four, I’m losing it. The walls feel like they’re closing in as I’ve only seen my husband and the grocery store cashier for what feels like ages. I’m in pajamas all day, glued to the couch with my unwell child. I notice my friends on Facebook living their lives, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It sinks in just how low things have gotten when I start looking forward to back-to-school night as a chance to escape the house.
- Joy! Finally, my son comes downstairs one morning declaring he feels much better! We celebrate this victory together with high-fives, and I send him off for a shower while I step outside to bask in the sunshine.
But wait! Just as I think we’ve reached the clear, I glance at my youngest and see those red, puffy eyes. Oh no, pink eye! Back to stage one—nooooo!
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In summary, navigating the ups and downs of childhood illnesses can feel like an emotional rollercoaster for parents. From denial to joy, it’s a cycle that many can relate to. Just remember, you’re not alone in this chaotic journey!