I wrote a few days ago that I’ve felt a little “behind” since George started the Dungeness crab season. It takes a lot of energy to catch up (and then keep up) when you’re the only parent running the show, so I try to keep things as simple as possible. I don’t like to needlessly burn energy I might need later.
The really odd thing is that about 24 hours after I wrote that, my three-year-old came to me and said she was “shivering.” Oh, boy. I knew right away what that meant. I scooped her up, brought her to the couch, and held her as her fever spiked to 104 and I felt like a spot was being burned into my leg.
Now, Eva hasn’t been well for a few months and went through an especially hard time over the holiday season in which she experienced blue skin and nails, high fevers, coughing, shaking chills, and nausea. Eva seemed “better” but not perfectly healthy in the weeks following. Recently, she started complaining that her “tummy hurt,” and she wouldn’t let anyone touch her side.
When her fever spiked again the other day, my mom and sister insisted I take her back to the doctor, which of course, I did. Dad came by that night to watch Vincent while Eva and I made yet another evening trip across town to the doctor. The next morning, the doctor called and said some of her test results were back and we needed to come back right away. So, I called Dad again and off we went.
Long story short, Eva has pneumonia and because she has been so sick for so long, won’t be able to participate in any activities for the next several weeks where she may be exposed to children and more viruses. Her tiny immune system has taken such a hit that she will need to get well and stay well for a length of time before we can resume our usual activites (basically, everything!).
Talk about preserving energy and not over-extending myself! And thank goodness for family, who help out and lend a hand on literally a moment’s notice. In a lifestyle like this, their help is especially invaluable. I don’t know what I’d do without them! In fact, George’s mom may fly across the country and lend a hand as well until we get over the hump and can set about making a new schedule for ourselves.
The other night, Eva was in my room. She began to perform her special little sway-dance and and started singing a song I hadn’t heard before:
“Poor Eva, poor Eva. Poor Vincent. Poor Dada on the boat. Poor Brett. Poor Bryan. Poor babies.”
I’m not exactly sure where she came up with the lyrics, but it was about the saddest song I’ve ever heard.