The helplessness that I feel when my kids are sick is overwhelming. Right now, Stella is really, really sick. Sick enough that when Dan took her to Emergency at the Children's Hospital (ACH for those overly familiar) they waited all of 10 minutes. (For comparison, I waited 6 hours when I took her in 2 weeks ago. Or maybe it was Dan's Quebecois good looks?)
The doctors now think that Stella has asthma -- although they are reluctant to label it "officially" until she is 5. Her DX for her current sickness is "viral-induced asthma". Apparently this covers the laboured breathing, the constant coughing, the wheezing, the vomiting, the diarrhea, the lethargy, the fever, the crying.
What can I do? I just hold her and rock. In a way, it is easy, and I will miss it -- the simplicity of the comfort provided by simply physically being present.
I feel like raging against the universe -- haven't the dice rolled enough against my sweet, sweet girl? ACC, ear infections, extropia, and now asthma? Hey, God? Don't you think that's enough? Hey, God, are you listening?!
Francis has just recovered from some kind of flu-like illness as well. When he announced that he felt cold, and needed to go to bed -- in the middle of the day! -- I knew he was sick. (This is a kid that has to be coerced -- I mean, "motivated" -- to go to sleep). He's recovered, now, but Stella's illness drags on and on.
And of course this is all timed for my return back to work at TransAlta. Excellent.
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