Greetings from the Sick House

Yep. Fun times afoot.

Nathan has had this weird sort of illness. On again off again. He has fever, about 102-103 one day & the next it's gone - with this strange kind of cough. At first it was loose, but now it's actually becoming a bit more serious.... This has been going on for about two weeks. Brought him to the Dr. on Sunday, she said maybe a sinus infection, gave him antibiotic & he was better Monday. Today: fever again. Gonna take him back to the doctor (hopefully an early appointment!) and my sitter is going to be here the whole day.

I figure I'm not going to stress over whether or not X will help with the extra babysitter money. I need her to come, so I will ask her to come. Too many stresses (missing work, will he pay...) have to cut down on that. Just have to live how I have to live, and if he helps -- all the better.

Max was stomach ache free all the rest of Friday (after X was able to get him off to school) and Saturday... and all of a sudden.... Sunday evening, wouldn'tcha know... Then, yesterday morning it was an absolute teeth gnashing fight to get him out the door.... Allow me to describe: "Max. Get up!" "I can't! It hurts" "Max. Get up!" "But MOM - it really really hurts!" "Max. Get up." "MOM!!" "MAX GET UP OUT OF THAT BED RIGHT NOW! IF WE MISS THAT BUS I WILL BE LIVID!"

Max slithers out of bed, kind of like a snail, or a snake, or maybe more like an inchworm. He can't stand up, you know - because "IT HURTS!" (Sorry, reached my sympathy quota last week.) He inches his way, on his stomach, to the couch. He gets there. "I'll have a flip flop waffle." As right as rain.

Hmmmmm

Then he starts with the Pokemon cards. He is not moving. Not eating. Not getting dressed. Not nothing. Just Pokemon. "Max. Put down the cards. Eat your breakfast." "Ok." "Max. Put down the cards. Get dressed." "Ok." "Max. Your breakfast! Clothes! Put DOWN the cards!" "Ok." "MAXPUTTHOSECARDSDOWNRIGHTNOWORI'MTAKINGTHEMAWAY!" "Ok."

Snatch.

"Oooohhhh... my cards! Ohhhh... you are the MEANEST MOMMY EVER! I am NOT getting dressed UNTIL I get the cards back! I'm NOT!"

(Said in a cold, quiet voice) "Maxwell. I have the power. I have the cards. You will get dressed. Also, if we miss that bus, you know that whole binder of cards that you have...." He got dressed. We walk out the door - and dontcha know - he's fine. Like the whole morning trauma: POOF! Gone.

This morning was eerily similar. Except his hurting/screaming was far more dramatic. I got out my camera phone and videoed. I couldn't believe the drama, the pathos, the nearly real tears....

But he got really upset. He said "I can't believe you humiliate me like that!" "Humiliate?" How does my seven year old even know that word?!? I apologize. I told him I was just trying to calm him down. He said "Did your mom ever do stuff like that to YOU?" I said "Oh no - but she did other things..." (You can talk to your shrink, kid, like I do to mine!)

I don't know... does his stomach really hurt? I think it does.. but I can't understand why it's just during the week? Could the stress of school really manifest itself into these stomach aches? I see him wince in pain, and I can't imagine a seven year old could keep up this pretence for so long...

All his tests came back normal (Celiac, Crohns, etc) I have to take a stool sample (yuck! Even yuckier when I asked the Dr how... don't worry - I won't tell you!) to test for H. Pylori. Every doctor says he's "fine" -- and I have to believe them, right?

But ugh. I'm totally reaching saturation point with all this, that's for sure.