Yikes.

Seriously, it has been a heck of a week.  Akiva came down with what I innocently assumed was the virus-of-the-week, and proceeded to treat as such.  Three days later, we were in the Urgent Care (another story altogether---eek!) grossing out the doctor with my third-born's preposterously pus-pocketed throat and stunningly swollen glands.  Rapid step was negative, but the doctor was in favor of antibiotics nonetheless, as the boy was "very close to being abcessed."  Ew.  I am not fan of antibiotics in general, and can count on my fingers (and maybe a couple of toes) how many times we've had one of our progeny take them.  In this instance, though, I was all in favor---his throat was phenomenally gross, and he was in a ridiculous amount of pain.  We left with a script for amoxicillin, had it filled at a nearby pharmacy and had him back in bed within the half hour.

24 hours later, though, our little sicko was not looking any better.  He'd slept most of Shabbos and hadn't been able to eat or drink, other than some water, grape juice, and a little chicken broth.  When he came downstairs Saturday night, he was gray and dreadful-looking, miserable and on the verge of a trip to the emergency room.  Luckily, my amazing nurse-neighbor persuaded me to give it till the morning, and another wonderful friend took Jess shopping for fluids and tempting goodies for the patient.  He perked up considerably around 10 PM, and has been improving steadily since, Thank G-d.

We all slept a little late this morning, but my day got kicked into gear when Chevi came into the bedroom covering her sobbinbg face with blood-drenched hands.  Stoic that I am, I kept from fainting, vomiting or screaming aloud, and slapped a (white) towel over the apparently gaping hole in her head.  I sucked down some Rescue Remedy, considered, gave the small bloody person on my bed some Rescue Remedy, and removed the towel for a second look at the wound.  Which was roughly the size of a beebee, in reality, yet lent a Carrie-esque vibe to the bedroom.

The kids are fine, but I'm traumatized.  Blood and pus---and we're talking copious amounts of each, here---are more than I can comfortably deal with in 24 hours.  I'm keeping the Rescue Remedy in my pocket and the Godiva chocolate chips close at hand, but I think it might take more than that to get me back to normal.  I'm planning an emergency screening of Newsies after the munchkins are in bed---let's hope that's enough to do the trick.