At the doctor's office yesterday the nurse told Brad to add a degree whenever you take a temperature under an arm. I'm surprised that more parenting books don't mention this (they probably do) because really. Really. WHO has the patience and the heart to throw a squirmy, feverish infant over their lap and check their temperature in a very uncomfortable place?
Anyway. Her fever was actually at 102.9 when the nurse took her temperature through her ear. Brad said she was talking up a storm in the waiting room. I think rather than moaning and groaning her aches and pains... (keep in mind she was really out-of-it yesterday) that she may have been discussing her opinions about Elizabethan Gardens and kite-flying* with Mia, Grandma & Harriet all at once.
No, really, she is out of it. I've never seen her so weak and cuddly and pitiful. There were times when she was laying on Brad and watching television last night and generally BEING STILL when she would just frown and whimper. Although I melt like butter with sympathy and wish she felt as good as ever, I guess I am insensitive enough to say that I love this cuddly version of her. I KNOW! I feel horribly selfish for thinking it and I don't wish her any pain, of course. I guess sometimes being a needed source of comfort and having moments of pure affection is what puts beauty in the battles. The battles of parenthood.
There. That was eloquent enough to make me feel unselfish for a couple of minutes.
Gosh, get to the point, Rae!
We were instructed to collect a urine sample and keep it on ice. In our fridge. You know, where the food is? I'm not complaining, it's just that it was a surprise every time I opened the door. We dropped off the sample this morning and now...
it's just a waiting game.
I don't think she was nearly as hot as she was yesterday, but it's difficult for me to tell. I am hoping that it's just a tame strain of virus, like a really weak flu. It's apparent that it's not a cold and she does seem to have some of the more obvious symptoms of influenza such as fatigue, achiness, fever, chills, and watery eyes.
Another question has arisen: how big a mountain can a new parent make of a molehill? I do go on, don't I. I am hoping I can rely on my trusty system: the more I worry, the smaller the problem will be in actuality.
*She loves kites! Maybe I will get her one when this is all over with. I used to get a toy on sick days, too. Maybe it's spoiling, but isn't that a reflex when one's child is sick?