Who knew strep throat could be a full body experience? I had no idea, I barely remember the last time I had strep throat - high school maybe? - but on Monday morning, my journey began.
I woke up Monday morning with a scratchy, raw throat, the kind that is brewing under the surface with the promise of lots of pain to follow. Sierra, the oldest twin, had come down with a fever and scarlet rash last week, which was then diagnosed as strep throat (her antibiotics almost immediately took care of her symptoms luckily), so I just knew that it was my turn. I'd escaped so many of their illnesses this winter, having only come down with one short-lived cold myself the entire season, but the misery of strep throat, I knew, loved company.
Driving Quinn to school, the body chills and aches started, a sure sign that a fever was coming, too. I dropped him off and since I still haven't found myself a good primary care physician, I immediately drove to the MinuteClinic at CVS in the next town north of us. I winced at the stiff cool breeze as I loaded the twins into the double stroller, piling in their snacks and books to keep them busy. Luckily I was the first patient of the day, the girls ogling the Nurse's every move on their Mommy; taking my temp, swabbing the back of my throat, the heartbeat clip on my finger, taking my blood pressure (always very low, 102/64 today), checking for swollen glands under my chin... Shockingly, the strep test came back "negative", but they would still send it out to a lab, and we'd get those results the following day. Guess my gut had been wrong, though I knew my throat would not be.
So, I winced again at the breeze as I reloaded the twins back into the van, and since it was apparantly just a virus, I figured I'd better get some necessities from the store since I could just feel I'd be in no shape to do it again soon. We hit the post office, texted my husband 'my turn to be sick', and then my head started swimming the whole way through the grocery store; I picked up whatever I saw and thought we could use, apples, baby carrots, cinnamin swirl bread for the girls... I even bought Ibuprofin, and I do not take pills, I just never do, not for allergies, not for headaches, nothing. I firmly believe that my body can heal most anything, but I had to give in to this particular evil within. We stopped back at school and picked Quinn up, and upon arriving home with all three ducks in a row, all hell broke loose within my body.
My throat was completely blocked, that full, blubbery pain in the back where you feel like you're gagging, and you just can't swallow and each time you try to swallow, a horrible pain shoots out. I also knew I had a fever; I was shivering and trembling, so so cold, like I was standing outside in subzero temperatures, yet sweating bullets at the same time, all while making the kids lunch, anything I could throw on a plate to fill their little bellies before I could put two of them down for naps and only have one left up to neglect. I knew my afternoon would involve me and the couch, and if the girls were napping, at least I could keep Quinn occupied in other ways while I melted into the cushions.
I apologized to the kids that Mommy wasn't being much fun just then. I told them that Mommy was really very sick, but that I just needed to lay and I'd be better and able to play again soon. I got the girls layed down for naps, comfy clothes on for myself, and directed Quinn to the armchair with his VTech Learning Tablet to babysit him while I layed on the couch next to his chair. And oh my God, it all hurt. I'd taken the ibuprofin but it was not doing anything. Every single bone in my body hurt, I'm guessing all my joints were inflammed. My skull ached, my neck and every vertebrae in my back was on fire, my knees and legs and pelvis were killing me, and yet I couldn't stop shivering despite the heavy down blanket I was covered up with. It's the kind of cold that starts from the inside, radiating from my bone marrow, stretching out from within, spreading up and down my skin. I know people say some pain is like being hit by a truck, and I can totally understand that - but it's not like the aftermath of being hit, it's that moment of impact when you can just feel your body shattering and the pain is numbing and you can't hear anything because your ears are smothered by the sounds of an explosion.
Of course the girls didn't nap that day - why would they? Of all days that I just needed them to nap and be indisposed for a little while, where they'd be safe and happy and resting peacefully? Not Monday, my worst Monday ever. I'd dozed for maybe 25 minutes on the couch before I had to give in to the calling for Mommy, and I knew that I really shouldn't let Quinn veg-out on his tablet for much longer anyway. It was an absolutely beautiful day - sunny and almost 70, one of our first spring-like days after a very long, snowy winter. I managed to cut up some apples and grab a box of Angry Birds (graham crackers), somehow managed to get Quinn's and the girls jackets and shoes on which is a daunting task even on the best day.
The kids were overjoyed to be outside in the nice weather. They flew like little birds from the backdoor, cheering and smiling, their arms in the air, the warm breeze rustling their soft hair feathers. Within minutes they had their jackets off, like pink and orange and bright blue leaves decorating the ground in the yard. I grabbed my hat and winter coat, and sat on the back deck stairs, still freezing even in the warm air - okay, "sat" is a graceful to describe me, I was slumped like a slug across the two steps between the patio and the deck, but the sun was warm on my black yoga pants and the patio was warm on my legs, and truthfully, unless one of the kids was in danger, I couldn't have moved even if I'd wanted to.
I layed there watching them, through tears (from the fever, not from crying), as they were jubilently swinging on the swingset, pushing toys around the deck, playing bus stop with the wagon, eating their snacks from colored bowls on the deck, giving me a teasing look as they threatened to go up two many rungs on the ladder or attempt the slide on their own. I would call out safety instructions every now and then - 'don't go any higher', 'don't walk in front of the moving swing'...- and apologies - 'sorry Mommy can't push you on the swing today', 'sorry I can't play tag'. Thankfully, Doug got home at 5 that night, which is early for him, and he took them for a walk, the girls in the wagon and a bike ride for Quinn, while I somehow mustered the energy to boil and bake something for dinner. Then I layed down on the couch and mentally and physically checked out.
In my fevery dreams, I tossed and turned and could hear things taking place around me - the kids got home from their walk and ate dinner, Doug gave Sierra her amoxicillin, he spent a long time doing dishes after dinner while the kids ran around the house, jumping on me and eventually playing in their book room. He wrangled the girls to bed and bathed Quinn, and at some point, he came back to see what I needed. My temp was 102, my body was still aching and my joints burning, I wasn't hungry, my throat raw, but I ate some apple slices to take more ibuprofin, and it must have done some good because I actually fell asleep. I vaguely remember walking up the stairs to my own bed, bringing an extra blanket to cover up my freezing body.
Tuesday morning dawned just the same as the night had been. I gagged on the giant lump in my throat, which only made it hurt worse, and I pulled on a cardigan sweater over my pajamas, as if a very uncool tribute to Kurt Cobain, and went downstairs and prepared the kids breakfasts slower than a snails pace. I laid my greasy head on the table while they ate, since I had no bowl of my own, telling them again that "Mommy is still really very sick, I'm sorry I'm not talking very much". Lots of television ensued that morning, as I layed on the couch under my down-blanket cocoon, coming out more frequently than I really wanted to but I had to get them snacks or diaper changes or other things. I took them down to the playroom, and I layed at the bottom of the steps so they couldn't get past me if I happened to close my eyes for a minute; surely I'd feel them crawl over top of me, right? I prepared lunch very slowly, again, just putting together things with very little preparation involved that could still pass as a meal. I found I could still do some things as long as I moved slowly and if I whispered the word of what I needed to get (cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese; grapes grapes grapes grapes), so I wouldn't forget what they needed before I got there to retrieve it. I can only imagine how crazy I must have seemed, but luckily the kids aren't old enough to know what crazy is, or to be alarmed by it.
I got the girls down for a nap and halleluh, both girls slept that day! I succumbed to Quinn's repeated requests for a tv show (I'm sure he sensed my state), and he layed on the couch with me, under his own little blanket, as I dozed in and out during that wonderful 30-minute reprieve. I heard my phone ringing it's vibration on the counter, but I was powerless to answer it. After a little while, I heard Kelsey wake up, so I grabbed my phone on my way out from picking her up. The kids sat on the couch watching yet another show (sorry little brains, I'll make it up to you somehow). Under my downy shield, I listened to a voice mail - CVS got my strep test back from the lab and it was "positive"! 'Thank God', I thought! At least it was something treatable and not a wait-it-out kind of sickness anymore.
Sierra awoke moments later, so I let her join in the show while I slowly prepared snacks for the car. I left the girls in their regular shirts and sleeping pants, and put the girls dress shoes on them because the slip-on option was much more appealing than tie laces or even zipper boots, even if they looked like the cutest little clowns you ever did see. Quinn was excited that he didn't have to wear shoes in the car. And off to the drive-thru cvs pharmacy we went. I was so dizzy, my head was swimming, but I had to get those pills, though I probably had no business operating a motor vehicle that day. I picked up my penicillin and drove home, resuming my place on the ground/steps in the back yard so the kids could play (yes, I made Quinn get shoes after all). I had put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner, which I served with baby carrots. Cardboard Dinner served everyone (hey, they were organic carrots though!). Doug came home at 6 and took over again.
By Wednesday morning, I was still in pain, achy from another sleepless night and the inflammation, but Quinn was now complaining of a sore throat. We thought it might have just been an act, because he was still chasing his sisters around, playing, jumping off the couch, doing his usual routine, but we decided I'd better take him into the doctor. Doug stayed for a little while that morning to help with the kids so I could shower, and he set the appointment for 10 a.m. We left at the same time, him to the office and me making another shaky drive with three precious cargos in the car to get to the pediatricians. Quinn was positive for strep (brave little guy didn't even flinch when they swabbed his throat), so they tested Kelsey, too - also positive. I'd had three doses of penicillin by them and an ibuprofin that morning, so my bones weren't quite as painful and my fever was coming down so the shivering was at a lull, but my head was still throbbing and I was barely holding it together mentally, just enough to function.
We drove to the Rite Aid pharmacy, and went next door the grocery store to buy more popcicles and milk. The girls were being rambuncious in the double stroller, squealing and trying to grab their brother, making it hard to steer, and when Quinn wasn't playing "can't touch me" with the girls, he was running up and down the aisles (some show of sickness...). My head was pounding and my vision was all shaky because I was dizzy, my field of vision bounced and rattled with every step I took. My neck hurt, but cracking it only made the dizziness worse. We went down the bread aisle, Quinn skipping ahead of me and step-dancing, when my ears picked up the sounds of the terrible Muzak that was playing overhead, a provocative techno beat and strange raspy vocals talking about "we don't have to rush tonight, baby, let's take our time tonight" or something along those lines, and in my head I'm thinking how that's highly inappropriate for a grocery store on a Wednesday morning, and it's so incredibly loud and pulsing. The girls are hanging out of the stroller, my arm is breaking under the weight of the gallon and a half of milk, Quinn's dancing and probably drawing attention to the odd music, and I notice an old woman in the aisle with me, and I'm sure she's embarassed by the song (assuming her hearing aid is turned up to hear it). I catch a wave of dizzy and try to head us up the aisle toward the checkout, and two more elderly folks turn the corner, and in my head, I imagine they're hearing the song, too. As we turn out into the main aisle, there are 5 more white-haired people, and I'm surrounded and can't help but smile because I'm completely lost in my head, feeling like I'm having some kind of strange drug-induced trip, but it's only penicillin, and listen to those horribly sexy words being blatantly sung loudly to all these old people. I actually laughed out loud, it was too much for my fragile mind to handle, too funny not to recognize, and we pushed our way to the self-checkout because I just need to get the hell out of there. We paid, and I gulped in warm, moist air as we leave the store, to pick up the kids' medicines. The same song is playing in Rite Aid, but it's much quieter and there aren't any old people, and I just feel sick to my stomach. All I can think is, 'What was all that?'
At any rate, we got back to the comfort of our own home, and I'm putting the kids lunches together with a little more ease this time. I was surprised that both Quinn and Kelsey had come down with it; yes, I know it's highly contagious, but they'd been acting perfectly fine, hadn't had any symptoms. If their poor little throats felt anything like mine did, or if their little bodies were just as achy as mine, I felt so bad that I hadn't noticed, or worse, that they'd caught it from me and there I'd been lost in my own feelings of illness to consider this. I don't know if it was the timing of the penicillin and that maybe it was finally doing it's job, or the fact that I realized that my babies were sick, but I was suddenly able to put my own sickness aside to focus of their needs. I started Quinn and Kelsey's doses of amoxicillin, continued Sierra's rounds, seeing all our medicines lined up at dosing time was quite a sight. I read them books despite my raspy, still sore throat, cuddled with them, tried to cook them healthy, less-shortcut meals, focused and tried to spend time just playing whatever they wanted to play. It was actually really nice to just BE with them for a change, instead of worrying about all the other things on my "To-Do" list that I knew I had no hope of doing (like painting, building shelves, etc) since I wasn't fully recovered myself.
By Saturday, everyone is mostly back to normal, other than needing to continue the meds even though the kids think they're feeling better already. 10 days it will be, not a day less - I'm not taking the chance that this horrible round of strep comes back. I'm in no hurry to ever feel that way again! So thankful that it is all over now... Fingers crossed we've met our quota on sicknesses for this winter season. Bring on spring!
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