Bug Off

My sweet little boy has a list of diagnoses a mile long—most of which I could care less about, but the doctors insist on fussing over.

However, there is this one thing that causes me to worry incessantly, act a fool in public, and makes my husband roll his eyes (or maybe he’s planning an intervention?):

Compromised Immunity. Low Immunity. No immunity.

The poor kid can’t fight anything off. This is evidenced by the 9 cases of strep throat he’s had in the past year.

For crying out loud, we even have rules!

1. Wash hands immediately after returning from being out. Or before eating. Or after eating. Or if mom thinks you’re grubby.

2. When soap and water is not available, douse children with copious amounts of hand sanitizer.

3. Never, EVER touch the Shopping Carts of Doom.

4. The home–all surfaces that hands touch–will be Lysoled or Cloroxed twice weekly. More if Mom is feeling especially creeped out.

5. Shoes are deposited at the front door.

6. We do not share straws, spoons, etc. and for the most part we use plastic silverware when sick (unless you’re mom, who uses them all the time, but that’s another neurosis for another day).

7. Upon returning to the home from work, mother or father will deposit work clothes to the laundry,wash up, and then don fresh clothes. In that order.

You see, I am trying to keep my kid healthy. I really am. The thought of building him a bubble is looking better and better….

Imgaine, if you will, a pleasant Monday morning. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the trees are budding….the first cup of coffee has hit your tummy. Your child’s teacher arrives, in all her grumpy glory.

After trying to make your child learn colors, shapes, and numbers (you know, it is totally appropriate for a developmentally delayed 4 year old to know what the number 14 looks like, right?), she off-handedly mentions that she’s been sick with the stomach bug all weekend.

(do you hear crickets?)

My lovie has a g-tube and a Nissen Fundoplication. If he gets the stomach bug one of two things could happen. He could blow that Nissen to high heaven. OR, he could puke, aspirate, and end up with another bout of pneumonia. The stomach bug is pretty much the scariest thing ever in our house. Truly.


What part of “medically fragile” do they not understand? Or maybe she thinks that I like to call him medically fragile. You know, because it’s fun?

What to do? Lysol the entire house until there’s a cloud of Lysol so thick you need a hazmat suit to enter? (maybe) Bleach every solid surface you can find? (um, sorta) Wash the children head to toe in warm water water? (yes) Beg God to intervene? (absolutely)

Someone hand me my straight jacket…

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