This is the first week in six that we haven’t had to travel to a hospital appointment. We have been at the GP three times. Three. Times. In five days.
H has such a rotten cough that she makes herself sick with it. She is struggling to sleep because the coughing wakes her up. She is miserable, my heart aches just looking at her poor swollen pink eyes.
She can’t hear our ‘shhhh’ing or our words of reassurance. She looks at me with such fear as she coughs until she is red faced and sobbing and hurling. I can’t sign to her that she’ll get better because she won’t let me put her down.
W cries for ages because his ears are so sore from an infection. He is streaming from his eyes. His chest rattles and his nose runs.
He can’t wear his hearing aids because they hurt too much so he is upset, disoriented. He can’t hear us call out a warning as he is about to fall because of his poor balance because of the infection. He can’t hear us explain what’s wrong, that the medicine will help, that he shouldn’t fight it.
I know that they will get better. I know that the infections will pass and they will once again laugh and smile and be willing to be left alone for a few minutes.
But I also know that by then we’ll be back at the hospital for more testing, more discussions, more results and more decisions.
I know that next week I won’t be crying because I am exhausted from lack of sleep and not having had the chance to clean my teeth or eat a meal for days on end.
Next week I’ll be crying because I’m exhausted from trying to get the baby to keep her hearing aids in, from teaching her sign language, from learning new signs myself.
I’ll be exhausted from trying to discipline my toddler whose language is poor and whose attitude is strong.
So you see, I’m particularly bitter about this week and about how very sick my kids are. Because, for me, it doesn’t end when they are better.
Because life just keeps hurling these God damn lemons at me. And I am working so very hard at coming to terms with the giant deaf lemon I get disproportionately bitter about the little, everyday lemons that are coughs and colds.
Once, just once, I’d like life to throw me a strawberry, or a pear.