the rotavirus

The rotavirus, not to be confused with the rhododendron virus, which does not exist, but is far more lethal, is a gastrointestinal virus that is fairly contagious and causes diarrhea and vomiting.

So, Monday, a week ago, my poor 3 year old son develops a cough. We take him to the doctor and he is declared asthmatic. This particular occurance could have been caused by virus or allergen. Then Sunday, as I have documented, I mowed the yard without respiratory protection and had a horrible allergy attack. It only made sense then that he and I were both allergic to something that was pollenating.

Then my allergies turned into a cough and my daughter also developed a cough. Well, I have spent the last two days out of work because of this illness and because my whole family seems to be coming down with it. Now my wife is showing signs of it, and before long her boyfriend, and his whoever and et cetera, and thus are viruses propagated.

But today, as my son and I were staying home ill, this respiratory virus did something awful. It invited his friend in. I'm sitting on the couch, watching Teen Titans for the umpteenth time, feeling like I could sleep for days, when my son says, "Daddy, I want to lay down." This may sound innocuous to you, but 1. my son is a very active child, 2. he is well over his cough (I was only keeping him home because I was staying, and frankly it was easier than taking him to day care), and 3. he was already laying down.

"Ok," I said, "Lay down on the pillow."
"Ok," he said, and did. He really is the sweetest little boy in the world.
Seconds later he said. "Daddy, I want to lay down."

Finally I started to get wise and I asked, "Are you ok?" to which he invariably responds, "Yeah," but this time he said, "No." I sat him up just in time for him to launch two cups of Kool Aid and several chewed up Cheez Its all over himself, the couch, and the floor.

Seconds later he reached all the way back to breakfast and coughed up coagulated strawberry milk. This must have been hard to cough up, it was like cream cheese. And, Oh Dear Lord, the smell. I can still smell it.

Anyway, we are people of science right? We know how to disinfect shit, right? Well, I played the duteous parent. I cleaned up the horror, changed my son's clothes, tossed the towels in the wash, Lysoled the couch and floor and my feet and everything that might have been remotely associated with splatter, washed my hands, and then I sat down. Then I looked over at my son and saw that he was very downtrodden. So I went over and I snuggled him and sat next to him and watched Teen Titans, (*sigh*) again, and basically stuck my face right in his.

You see, if illness just happened to adults there would be no illness. The first person to get sick would summarily be placed in a quarantine where nurses, appropriately attired, could tend to him and doctors could exact nature's cure. In this way, no one would ever be exposed to the ill patient, and the disease would never spread. But illness happens to these cute little kids. And although I know he is a volcano of disease, out both ends I might add, I look at his cute face and I can't let him sit there by himself. He is so sad. And even though I know vomit is coming and it will likely spash in my face, and get under my nails, and I will aspirate it, et cetera, I can't help but cuddle him.

Anybody want to lay odds on how long it will take before I'm spending quality time with the trash can on the throne?

Don't even get me started on the poop-soup I had to clean.