Day six of Madeleine’s fevery bug. Sigh. Two hours from now, we meet with the doctor for strep test and anything else he might recommend.
Our school was cancelled for two days last week, due to this epidemic. Brendan is both perfectly well and utterly miserable, with no available playmates and a house full of either sick or irritable people. Thank goodness for school, today, for him!
Still pacing-with-chores, here, and restless. There are two fevers, Madeleine’s and mine, though mine cannot be measured by a thermometer. I am laundering everything that might harbor a germ. I am boiling water for tea, for me. I have been indoors, by her side, for all but five hours—a shift at the store, plus two glorious hours walking yesterday, skipping church. My fellow Sunday school teachers practically threw me out, fearing I am contagious. I found a sunny rock at a nearby State park, where no one could find me and ask me for anything. The rock radiated warmth into my back until I had to peel off layers of gloves and sweaters. Church is one of my favorite places on earth, but not today—stillness and quiet are better prayers, today.
Scott is trying valiantly to fend off this illness, taking every precautionary measure I throw at him, while his throat gets more sore and his cough more violent each hour he is awake. This is an important week at his workplace, state testing for his students, and all the staff was teasingly told “there will be no sickness, this week.” I sent him to work with a thermos full of boiling tea, elderberry and Throat Coat and Breathe Easy for health, Good Earth for flavor, scattered bits of candied ginger in there and a ginger maple syrup concoction, a dollop of orange juice. I have fed both my sicklings the chicken soup of their choice, this weekend. I have fed them the “immune system” supplements with echinachea and Chinese mushrooms. I have officially Done Everything I Can.
The weather is lovely, warm for a March day in New England, and after the doctor appointment, I may need to bundle Madeleine out in the sun while I sift compost or do some other fretful chores outdoors, to fend off my own fevery cabin fever, after we find out what to do about hers. For now, she made a bed in the bay window and is watching the fishing boats, with a mug of ginger ale and juice. She is not fretting. That’s my job.