Sicko

Colin is sick with his very first cold and I am stumped. How, exactly, is he supposed to breathe while he takes a bottle when he has so much snot running out of his nose that we might as well call it dinner? Poor Colin is sneezing and coughing and snotting all over the place, in addition to his already worrisome (for me) issue with spitting up everything that goes into his belly. So we combine hardly eating because he can’t breathe with spitting up whatever makes it in, and we have one concerned Katie on our hands.

This is yet another instance where I know just enough to freak myself out. What if he has RSV? When I looked up the symptoms of RSV last night, it listed “breathing difficulty”.

“Do you think Colin is have difficulty breathing, Patrick?” I asked, trying to conceal the note of panic in my voice.

Without looking up from his computer, he says, “Actually, I might say that, yeah.”

After a shocked moment, I forgot about remaining calm and asked, in full panic voice, “So you think he has RSV then? Should we take him to the ER? He might need to be intubated or something. What if he has more trouble overnight and I don’t recognize it in time?”

Patrick had no solution to this alarmist query, so I answered myself by barely sleeping and gluing myself to the baby monitor. Colin woke up a few times coughing or sniffing and I rushed into his room with the bulb syringe at the ready. But he never needed too much, mostly just rescuing from the crib bars. He is a champion scoocher, you see, and he manages to scooch sideways and backwards and wedge himself in all kinds of odd places in his crib. Last night was particularly bad because I angled the mattress (the internet told me to!), which aided in his sinus drainage and reflux, as well as his scooching efforts.

In short, Colin did not require intubation last night, but I stayed awake for much of the night, just in case. This, of course, was an exceedingly stupid choice, given that he was fussy and tired and ill today as well. Since I had not slept last night, so was I.

On a side note, Patrick will have you know that he is also sick. For the last three days, he comes in from work and says, “How is Colin?”

I sigh heavily and say, “Well, he’s sick. His nose is –“ but before I can finish, Patrick interjects.

“Me too. I’m sick too. I have a runny nose and I keep sneezing. Also, my throat hurts, but I think that’s from the runny nose. Basically my whole head is full of thin, runny mucus.” Around this point he notices that I’m glaring at him. “Oh, but Colin’s not feeling well? Hm. Maybe we have the same thing.”

I continue to glare at him until he comes over and takes Colin from me, saying to him that they will suffer their illness together. Colin seems amused by Patrick’s sniffling and enjoys it immensely when Patrick blows his nose. I, on the other hand, retreat to the bathroom, stand under scalding hot water, and try to scour off the day.