It’s 3:37 a.m. and I find myself cradling my five-year-old in the living room, enveloped in darkness. He’s shirtless and trembling, his delicate shoulder blades moving in sync as he signs “more” to the melody of an off-key rendition of Paul Simon’s “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.” The tune, though far from perfect, brings a smile to his face—just enough to hold back the urge to call our pediatrician’s emergency line.
His bare feet rhythmically tap against my legs, a gesture that would normally be endearing if it weren’t a result of shivering. “Please, God, let this not be the flu,” I silently plead as he coughs with a deep, raspy sound that echoes like an old man’s. Just a week prior, a 33-year-old neighbor succumbed to the flu, which makes me wonder: if it can affect an adult, what would it do to my vulnerable child, who has cerebral palsy and tends to explore the world by putting everything in his mouth?
As I pause my singing, he nestles into my chest, sucking on the corner of his blanket. My husband emerges from the kitchen with Motrin, and we carefully prop our son up, a delicate balancing act. To my relief, he manages to take the medication and some water before we retreat to our bedroom. I can’t bear the thought of leaving him alone, even with the baby monitor.
So far, there has been no vomiting or diarrhea—two common symptoms of the flu in children. But I admit, I turned to Google at the first sign of his tremors and heightened startle reflex as I dressed him for bed. I had heard about the man who passed away and can’t help but worry about his young son, hoping he is doing alright.
As I reflect on the barrage of information that flooded my mind from social media, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Comments from fellow parents swirl in my thoughts: “Get him to the doctor for Tamiflu right away!” “Avoid Tamiflu! It made my daughter sick!” “My son had type-A and they sent us home with antibiotics—get a nebulizer!” “All three of ours got flu shots and still tested positive!” “Act fast; pneumonia is lurking!” “Don’t go to the doctor; they’ll just send you home!” “All local clinics are out of flu tests!” “If he has trouble breathing, rush to urgent care!”
At 4:40 a.m., with the pediatrician’s office still closed, I feel paralyzed by indecision. Yet, I have faced medical crises before—ambulance rides, intubations, and countless tests. It’s been three years since his last seizure, but I still hold my breath and keep my eyes wide open whenever he has a fever. This has become my normal.
However, as I consider the frenzy of urgent posts and the readiness of hand sanitizers and wet wipes, I realize that many parents are experiencing similar anxieties. The collective anxiety surrounding a potentially sick child is palpable. It’s a haunting experience to witness your child in distress, knowing you can only provide comfort, not a cure. The waiting is agonizing; the uncertainty is even worse. This is familiar territory for me, yet as I check the clock for the umpteenth time and place a gentle kiss on his forehead to gauge his temperature, I understand that I’m not alone in this. I am just one among many worried parents hoping to see our children smile with clarity again.
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In summary, as we navigate the unpredictable waters of flu season, it’s important to remember that we are all in this together. The sense of community among parents facing similar challenges is a source of comfort during these anxious times.