After my son’s accident on Thursday I haven’t slept much. My constant battle with the fever that cropped up early Saturday morning has left me feeling strung out and overly tired. The doctor has prescribed rest and antibiotics for my son. I wish he would have prescribed some for me. I desperately need some. Despite my ministrations, his fever raged on through all of Saturday and into today causing my worry to escalate and more intense one on one phone consultations with our doctor.
I feel as I have been transported back into time to the days when my son was a newborn and I would constantly check on him while he was sleeping to insure he was in fact breathing. I was a typical mother of a newborn. I hovered over my baby worrying about whether he was breathing, eating enough, sleeping enough, crying to much, or if his poop was the right consistency. I must have driven our doctor insane with my worries! Since my son’s concussion I have been frozen in a constant state of worry. Yes, I have prayed. I have found seeing our doctor and trusting him to have the situation well in hand has calmed my fears a bit. The adrenaline that fueled my panicked worry has fled me and left me feeling strung out and exhausted. I still worry that my son will miss another day of school due to the fever that has stuck around. The rule of thumb is that a child must be fever free for a full 24 hours before he is able to return to school. As of yet, that hasn’t happened.
I counted my blessings that at least he hadn’t vomited and only felt nauseated. Feeling nauseated is perfectly normal when there is swelling on the brain they say. Then my son vomited, and that obviously temporary feeling of things returning to as they should be fled and the worries returned.
I am so tired, but do I dare rest? He may need me. There is laundry to finish up. The groceries had to be bought and put away. The dishes had to be done. I must write to fulfill my goal to blog each day for NaBloPoMo. Is the washing machine and dryer finished with their cycles all ready? The silence tells me they are. It is time to put in more and fold more. It is fast approaching 7:00 pm. There is supper to be fixed and eaten.
Where did the day go? Why do I feel like I haven’t accomplished a thing when I have? Go lie down and rest my husband insists on one of his many calls today. I can’t. I must do this, this, this, and this first. It is time for my son to have more antibiotic again. It is never ending and time marches on leaving me in the dust. Am I moving in slow motion while the clock speeds up? There is no rest for the wicked, but hopefully one day soon there will be until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.