the gross post

According to dictionary.com, to be plagued is to be “troubled, annoyed, or tormented in any manner.”  Yep.  My family is plagued with illness at the moment.  Five out of the six of us have been to the doctor in the past two days.  Four different doctors have diagnosed us with “a virus” and told us to just treat the symptoms and wait it out.  Fun!  I’m so thankful I got out of bed and put on real clothes to go have someone tell me to just “wait it out.”  Because I refuse to see my glass as half empty I have been trying really hard to find some humor in the middle of our misery.  I haven’t had much success in finding humor, but I have noted a few interestingly bizarre and pretty gross occurrences…..

After almost two weeks of a fever, coughing, and blowing gallons of green snot from her nose, Sofija broke out in a rash on Valentine’s Day. It’s one of those bizarre viral rashes that comes and goes in different places all over her body.  She’s been absolutely miserable. 

True confession:  I’m not too heartbroken over her being so sick.  She has asked us to hold her and cuddle her and kiss her and hug her more in the last two weeks than she has in the last two years.  Which leads to interesting  occurrence number two….

To our knowledge, Sofija has never thrown up in her entire life.  Anyone who has known our family for any length of time knows that we consider it a true gift from God to have a child who isn’t a puker.  We are a puking family.  When my big kids were little I washed bedding every single day.  A lioness typically awakes each morning and heads out to hunt for food.  This lioness spent many years going on a morning hunt for partially digested food spread out in someone’s bed.

Yesterday, Sofija joined our club.  She climbed in her Tata’s lap and asked him to tickle her back.  And then… she opened her mouth and spewed all over him.  She then proceeded to totally freak out.  My poor baby had no clue what was happening.  To make matters worse, in an attempt to teach her how it’s done, Chad carried her to the bathroom and told her to throw up in the toilet.  Once again, she freaked out.  “Don’t throw Sofija in the toilet!”  “I don’t want to go in the toilet!”  And today, every time she coughs, she starts crying and says, “Please don’t put Sofija in the toilet!” Baby girl, don’t worry.  Nobody is going to put you in the toilet.  And since you just don’t understand how it’s supposed to be done, you can just keep puking on your Tata as you see fit. 😉

Interesting occurrence number three is really a small victory.  Remember the warts on Seth’s feet?  Well, they haven’t gone anywhere.  We have attempted to freeze them off five times, applied duct tape, soaked them in near-boiling water, covered them with various cooking oils, and painted them with nail polish.  He has been incredibly brave through all of our home-remedy torture.  The patch of warts in this picture haven’t really been a concern to us.  They appear to be shrinking and we’ve just gone with the doctor’s assurance that (even it takes a year or two) they will eventually go away on their own.  On his other foot, he has a HUGE plantars wart in the middle of his arch.  All of our efforts to get rid of it seem to have actually made it worse.  The thing is like an alien life-form.  It just keeps getting bigger and uglier and judging by the many shades of red it’s taken on in the last few days, I’m pretty sure it’s pissed at us for trying to destroy it.  So today, we broke up the monotony of being told to “just wait it out” with a look at the foot monsters.  Since dear hubby is a soldier, we receive medical care at a military treatment facility  This means we often deal with the frustration of getting to know a completely different doctor every time we need to be seen.  Today we got a different doctor.  But…Today was not one of those frustrating moments.  Today, my baby boy got to see a different pediatrician from the one who told us to just use duct tape and soak his feet in hot water.  Today, he got to see a kind lady who had compassion for the fact that a stimmer does not need the additional stimulation of constant pain in the arch of his foot.  Next week we see a dermatologist.  Small victory, but we’ll take it.

Occurrence number four is one that I’m sure I will laugh about some day.  Just not today.

When illness shows up in our house, I have a tendency to get a little crazy.  Okay, on a normal day I’m a little crazy.  When illness shows up, my kids and dear hubby would probably say I’m totally neurotic.  As evidence of my neurosis, I have a recycle bin that is overflowing with empty Clorox wipes containers.  Despite the fact that winter never showed up in DC this year, everyone in our house has hands that look like we live in the Canadian rocky mountains due to my insistence that hands must be washed every hour.  Me and Howie Mandel could hang out. (All of my international friends, Howie Mandel is an American game-show host who is famous for being a germaphobe)  Of course there would be no handshaking or hugging involved, but we could stand on opposite sides of the same room and totally understand each other.  My dear hubby may not understand or even sympathize with my germaphobe neurosis, but because he loves me, he plays along.  On Valentines Day he went out for cough syrup, a new air filter, and more Clorox wipes.  He came home with everything on the list AND four boxes of Anti-Viral Kleenex.  That man totally speaks my love language.

Since everyone is still coughing and snotting and running fevers, I decided that we needed to take additional measures to sanitize the house.  “Wait it out” could have many interpretations.  Right?  Some action on my part must be required in the waiting.  So, I made a stop on my way home from the doctor just to buy new anti-allergen mattress and pillow covers.  Since I had to get out of bed and get dressed anyway, it only made sense that I seize the opportunity to make my bed a little healthier before climbing back into it. Who knows?  Maybe the plague bugs are living in our pillows and just keep reinfecting us night after night. So anyway, I got home with my new germ-buster pillow and mattress covers and placed them on the kitchen counter with all intentions of putting them to good use after once again wiping down the doorknobs and switch-plates and eating dinner.  And then, just before I tossed a germ-infected wipe in the kitchen trash, guess what I discovered.  One of my precious new pillow covers was not only out of its package, it was wadded up in the trash.  I removed it from the trashcan, stretched it out, and gagged.  Add another 1/4 cup of snot to the gallon my baby girl has blown out in the last two weeks.  Me~ “Sofija, did you blow your nose on my new pillow cover.”  Sofija proudly replied, “Yes, Mama!”  Looks like I’m getting dressed and going to the store again tomorrow.  Maybe I should grab new toothbrushes for the entire family while I’m out.  And, since I don’t have a germ-proof pillow to lay my head on tonight, I think I’ll write Isaiah 40:31 on several index cards and post it all over my house.  After all, if I have to wait for something, it might as well be the Lord.

Yet, the strength of those who wait with hope in the Lord
      will be renewed.
         They will soar on wings like eagles.
            They will run and won’t become weary.
            They will walk and won’t grow tired.

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