an unrelenting ailment...

The past three days have been spent holding my little one close to me, stroking her cheek, patting her hair, offering any type of relief that my feeble mind could conjure up. Tuesday morning, as I retrieved her from her bed, I could detect in her mere emotionless expression, that things weren't right. Her body was hot. She refused even a taste of her rice cereal, a morning ritual, and one of her favorites. After we got John off to work, I took her back to bed with me and ran my fingers through her silken hair as her listless body lay next to mine. I checked her temperature. 102. I continued to caress her little body, wishing if only her words could communicate to me the derivation of her discomfort, of her pain. She became restless, anxious, irritable, whiny. I knew from her gestures that she was on the brink of...on the verge of...please don't tell me...oh no...vomiting! Those who know me well, know that I do not handle this kind of thing very favorably (it doesn't matter whose child it is). I have a weak stomach (inherited from my mother), therefore one could only imagine the trouble it gave me cleaning up such a compound. After stripping the bed, throwing everything in the washing machine (including our clothing, which was saturated), dousing the rest of the house in Lysol, and giving myself and my little Ruby a thorough scrub down, I had to reward myself with a pat on the back. For I had accomplished the unfathomable. The impossible. And I had done it all - by - myself.
This daunting series haunted me as I repeated the steps several times throughout the day, and into the next. Each time I cried as this unruly urge came over my daughter's helpless little body. I cried because she cried. I cried because I knew that she didn't understand what was happening to her and why. We were troubled because she wouldn't hold down any liquids, and after a while, refused even to sip anything at all. After making an after hour phone call to Ruby's doctor, we were told to take her to the emergency room. She hadn't had anything to drink in over 24 hours, and had only one or two wet diapers in the same amount of time. We feared that unless we could get some fluids in her, she would become dehydrated.
After four, long, wearisome hours at the pediatric unit of the Banner Desert hospital, it was determined that among other things, Ruby had an ear infection. Some drops were administered to numb the pain in her ear, as well as a portion of a Zofran tablet to control her nausea. Within a half hour, she was calmed enough to drink a few ounces of Gatorade. We were relived immediately, as the need for an IV seemed no longer apparent.
Today, she has made remarkable improvement, but is still exhibiting signs of pain and discomfort. We have her on an antibiotic for the infection, drops to momentarily dull the pain locally, and the Zofran, which will ease her upset stomach. I enjoyed more fully the time I spent with her today. Holding her in my arms. Patting her back. Stroking her hair. I enjoyed it simply because my soul wasn't troubled with worrisome thoughts. I was at ease knowing that my baby was going to be just fine. I had to enjoy the moment, knowing that before too long, she would no longer find contentment lying peacefully, and still in my arms....but rather, will be twisting, writhing, and squirming her way out of them...