Caleb is sick. He doesn’t act sick. And, other than a little cough, he says he doesn’t feel sick. But he is.
I worked late yesterday. When I got home it was after 6pm and I was worn out. I made a mad rush to help Spencer get ready for soccer practice…searching for soccer socks, shin guards, his practice shirt and orange shorts. After I scooted him out the door, I sat down on the couch to put my feet up and take a little breather.
Not even two minutes later Caleb came downstairs. In tears.
I asked, “What’s wrong baby?” [Because he will always be my baby...even when he's 45]
He was mumbling something I couldn’t understand between gasping and crocodile tears.
“Spencer stopped watching me.”
WTF is he talking about, I thought. But instead I just said, “What do you mean sweetie?”
“Spencer was watching me, but he stopped.”
Um ok. Clearly I was getting nowhere with this line of questioning so I just gave him a hug and told him it would be ok. He stopped crying and curled up next to me.
About five minutes later he was looking off in to space and he said, “Can I have a do over?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A do over. Can I have a do over.”
“A do over for what?”
I looked around. Am I being punked? What the hell is this kid talking about?
Then the tears started again and he said, “I don’t want to die.”
Ok, now he was totally freaking me out. I was starting to get a Sixth Sense feeling. I almost asked him if he saw dead people. Instead I told him to lie down for a little bit. I figured he must have taken a nap after school and still be sleeping or something. A couple minutes later he asked if he could go up to his bed and lie down. Good idea.
Fast forward to 9pm. I was trying to get all the kids in bed since it was well past bedtime. I went to give Caleb hugs and kisses and his lips were on fire. I felt the back of his neck. He was burning up.
I ran downstairs to my purse to get the thermometer. [Yes, I keep the thermometer in my purse. That way I always know where it is and the kids don't misplace it. I also have tweezers, dental floss, soap, toothpaste, and a set of plastic silverware plus a napkin in my purse. I'm a regular Boy Scout. Always prepared.]
So I took Caleb’s temp. 103.5.
And then I freaked the fuck out.
“Leeee,” I bellowed in a big panic. I immediately thought back to the do over on life comment from earlier. I was worried Denny from Grey’s Anatomy was talking to Caleb and telling him he was going to die. [Have I mentioned before that I have an overactive imagination and tend to be a big drama queen?]
Lee, who is always the calm one, suggested we take his temp again. We too it under the arm. 100.7. Then back under his tongue. 101.4. Whew. Much better.
We gave him some Tylenol and put him to bed. He slept through the night. [Which is more than I can say for me. I spent the whole night worry that Caleb was talking to dead people.] And this morning his temp was normal. But we kept him home anyway. Just to be safe.
He was fine all day long. No fevers. No coughing. Nothing.
Then at 6pm tonight I was giving him a hug. And he was warm again. I took his temp. 100.5. What the hell? And now he’s hacking and coughing again.
So now I’m baffled. What kind of illness is this that only effects him from 6pm to midnight?