A flip of the coin

Caution: This entry contains references to various bodily functions that might be offensive to my more sensitive readers (i.e. bachelors).

If I believed in the gods of Mt. Olympus, I would know for a fact that every morning of this past week, a coin was tossed. Based on the results of each coin toss, it was determined whether our day would in any way resemble what was planned or whether it would spiral into chaos for the amusement of those watching from above. As you shall see, we lost more than we won.

For background purposes, you should know that a week ago Thursday (Aug. 20), I took Ryan to the doctor for what I believed was a sinus infection. The doctor listened as I described his cold symptoms, but he really perked up when I said, "Oh, and while we're here, could you tell me what to do about these bumps that keep popping up on his skin?" He only needed a quick glance before he knew exactly what we were dealing with. "That's a staph infection. It's clearly reached the bloodstream, so he'll need to go on an antibiotic to clear it up. Lay low for the next few days because it can be highly contagious." The doctor was rather calm, but to me the word "staph" raises all sorts of alarm bells. We filled the prescription, notified friends and family that they quite possibly had been exposed to staph, and obeyed his instructions to stay close to home.

Monday: I receive word early in the morning that my father-in-law's knee is swollen and quite painful. My in-laws are headed to the doctor. They normally babysit Ryan on Monday afternoon while I take Pilates and then enjoy a few hours to myself. I call to cancel the workout. We also have dinner at my in-laws every Monday, but we planned to meet up for dinner as usual.

Since I am now going to be home for the day, it seems the perfect opportunity to bake bread. I prepare the dough while Ryan plays with a variety of toys in the living room. The phone rings at 11:22 a.m. It's Paul. He's calling to tell me that the house could be shown anytime between 11:30 a.m. - 2:30 p.m. That leaves me 8 MINUTES to prepare for a showing. The kitchen counter is covered with flour, the sink is full of dishes, and toys are everywhere. Somehow I manage to get the house cleaned up, the dough rising in the oven, and Ryan down for a nap - all within 15 minutes of the phone call. The house is shown around 12:30 p.m. and all is well.

Not long after the showing, the phone rings again. My father-in-law's white blood cell count is high, indicating some sort of an infection, so the doctor has sent him straight to the ER. We are worried about what kind of infection he might have. That also means dinner is off. It's Paul's first night of MBA classes, and he doesn't have time to come all the way home for dinner. I scramble to prepare a dinner to take to him at work by 5 p.m. We eat as a family "picnic style" at his office and while there receive word that my father-in-law is headed home from the ER with multiple antibiotics. And the week has only just begun!

Tuesday: A fairly normal day, except for the fact that my son stops eating. No interest in food whatsoever. We also learn what type of infection my father-in-law is fighting: staph! We will never know who gave what to whom or if this is simply a wild coincidence.

Wednesday: Another early morning call from my mother-in-law. My father-in-law's knee has worsened overnight, and they are headed back to the ER. This time he will be admitted. Paul heads straight to the hospital to see his parents before going to work.

Meanwhile, Ryan is not acting like himself. He didn't eat much breakfast, and seems tired and irritable. I decide to lay him down for a morning nap, even though he never takes one anymore. While he's napping, I'm on the phone trying to arrange babysitting for a doctor's appointment I have in the afternoon (my in-laws certainly weren't going to be available). Paul also calls to let me know that his dad is going to have surgery at 3:30 p.m. to drain the pus in his knee.

I go to retrieve Ryan from his nap, and as soon as I open the door, I know that something has gone horribly wrong. The odor coming from his room is indescribable, and that's when I notice my diaperless son moving restlessly in his crib. Yes, he has taken off his diaper... prior to the moment when he needed it most. And oh how he needed that diaper. Now it's time for Ryan to take a bath, sheets to be changed and washed, the crib sanitized, windows opened, and fans turned on to air out the room. While I clean, I am praying the phone doesn't ring to announce another house showing.

Paul graciously agrees to come home and babysit Ryan for my doctor's appointment. We receive word that my father-in-law is out of surgery and seems to be doing as well as can be expected. He'll be in the hospital until Friday. Only one more twist before the day is done - I am supposed to teach two classes at Veritas on Friday morning. The teacher calls to request that I come in on Thursday instead. Why not? My friend Courtney agrees to babysit at the last minute. I spend the evening preparing to teach.

Thursday: I leave the house at 7:30 a.m. to head to the school. I am extremely excited about teaching again for the first time in 18 months! The plan is for Paul to drop Ryan off at Courtney's house on his way to work. I teach both classes and enjoy every minute of it. Then I hop in the car and drive to Courtney's house. She rushes out to meet me as I pull into the driveway. "He's not here!" she says. "Paul called. Ryan threw up after breakfast." At this point in the week, I receive the news calmly and really without any surprise.

When I arrive home, Paul shares with me that he has experienced his worst nightmare. Not only did Ryan throw up for the first time, but he threw up all over Paul (who, by the way, was already wearing his suit and tie for work). The vomit even made it down to Paul's shoes. It had taken Paul an hour and a half to bathe Ryan, scrub the kitchen floor, rinse out his and Ryan's clothes, clean the tub, and then shower himself. Paul did discover that his worst nightmare wasn't as bad as he feared - the distress on Ryan's face and the love of a parent for his hurting child goes a long way toward lessening the gross factor. I am still glad it wasn't me!

Around 10:30 p.m., Paul realizes the refrigerator is not cooling properly. He uses a 20 lb. bag of ice to return temperatures to the "safe zone" and leaves a message with a repairman.

At 2:30 a.m., Ryan wakes up with dry heaves. I guess there was nothing to vomit up after hardly eating all day.

Friday: A day at home so that Ryan can rest and take it easy. I call the pediatrician about stopping Ryan's antibiotic. The infection has cleared up nicely and it seems likely the antibiotic is causing the upset stomach. My father-in-law is released from the hospital. He has a long road to full recovery ahead of him, but he is showing improvement daily. Oh, and the refrigerator has miraculously repaired itself!

Saturday: A great day - beautiful weather, time to relax as a family, a trip to the park, and a son who seems to be returning to normal. He even eats dinner for the first time in almost a week....

And Ryan throws up in his bed at 2:37 a.m. I always wondered if I would be able to recognize over the monitor if he was vomiting. The answer is unequivocally, "Yes!" You understand immediately what is going on, are wide awake and sprinting to the nursery in seconds, and know exactly what you will see upon turning on the light. By this point, you know the drill: bath, sanitizing, fresh sheets and pajamas, laundry, airing out room, etc. before falling back into bed at around 3:15 a.m.

Sunday: All plans are canceled for church and a friend's first birthday party. It will be another day at home. More importantly, it will soon be a new week. May the gods have mercy.