My daughter’s fever had settled by the evening, and after her last big bowl of soup and rice and some ice cream (it was homemade!), I thought the worse was over and gave her a dose of paracetamol before bedtime for good measure.
But like most monsters, it wasnt. At nearly 2. am that night, the big scary fever monster struck one more, and my daughter was boiling with a fever of 39.6 degrees. After a hurried dosage of ibuprophen, she started coughing and promptly vomited in bed. Soupy rice, ice cream remnants and yes, ibuprohen. Oh dear.
After another dose of meds (this is what sucks about being mommy-doctor, you have to make a call on the right second dosage after puking and hope for the best), clean sheets and a story, we settled in for the night – but it was 3 am already! (explains my dire need for coffee today)
The next morning the fever came back by lunchtime, a much less aggressive monster to the tune of 38.4. After more Calpol, and even more of the Disney channel, by 4pm she heard her baby brother outside plaing with the neighborhood kids and pleaded to go outside.
I was apprehensive, but Daddy thought that “fresh air will do her good” (how typical!), so out she went, like nothing happened at all – albeit some coughing my Mommy-bionic-ears could hear from the kitchen.
Aren’t children such a miracle?