Cleaning up 30,000 pounds... of mashed bananas

The boys in my house were sick again this past week. We've literally had to deal with one sickness or another every week for the last 5 weeks. First, Evan and Nick were both sick with the virus written about in recent posts. Then, when Evan hit 18-months, I took him in for his well-baby check up and shots. The doctor informed me that he had a sinus infection and wouldn't give him his shots. She sent us on our way with a script for the pink stuff and told us to come back in 2 weeks for his shots. The day after he finished his antibiotics, he started with the green snot drip again, so I called the doctor, told her and got a new prescription for stronger antibiotics for him. Within a couple days of him finishing this round of medication, he developed a rash from head to toe. Back to the doctor we go. This time she says that he has a rash (thanks, I knew that, that's why I brought him in) and it's possibly viral. She still will not give him his shots. Tells me to come back in 2 weeks, after this possible virus has run it's course.

Last Sunday Shawn bought a bunch of bananas at the grocery store. Nothing new there, my kids love bananas.

Nick ate one that day. That night, while we're eating dinner, Nick throws up directly onto his dinner plate. Luckily the deeper wells of his Thomas the Tank plate caught the majority of it. It did, however, still put a damper on the rest of our appetites. We gave Nick a bath and cleaned up the table. Before long he was asking to go back downstairs to finish his dinner (I'm thinking he didn't realize where his vomit landed). He seemed fine the rest of the night. We put him to bed with a bucket and that was that. No more vomit, no more sick. Off to school he went the following morning.

Over the next couple of days Evan eats the rest of the bunch of bananas except for the last one.

At some point during the night - Wednesday night/Thursday morning, Shawn is woken up by Evan whimpering. Shawn goes in to check on him to find out that he's thrown up all over his crib. Shawn, being the WONDERFUL father/husband that he is, cleans up the baby, throws a towel over the crib mattress and puts Evan back to sleep. I know nothing of any of this until morning. I told you, Shawn really is wonderful. Evan proceeds to throw up and blow out diapers for the next several days. A call to the doctor informs me that he's probably caught another virus (gee, ya think?!) and to watch for signs of dehydration. By Friday we're getting concerned because he cannot even keep the pedialyte down. This is no good. Shawn's scheduled to work on Saturday and I'm going to be home with a bored-out-of-his-mind Nicholas and a puking-all-over-the-place Evan. My parents are in the mountains and I'm, again, on my own with all this vomiting.

This is where it gets entertaining - to me anyway...

Friday night Shawn comes home from work telling me that he thinks it's the bananas. There was 1 left and he ate it at lunch. "Now, if I get sick too, we know it's the bananas for sure." Yes, I know there are faults in his logic, like the fact that he lives in this germ ridden house right along with us, but I don't think it's worth arguing that fact. I'm too busy trying to plan out how I'm going to entertain Nick while cleaning up after Evan.

At approximately 12:32 a.m. on Saturday, Shawn bolts out of bed and runs to the bathroom. He spends the next couple hours trying to figure out which end should be pointed at the toilet. The rest of the night is spent laid out on the couch praying for sleep. By 7:30 a.m. Shawn has decided to call work and tell them he's going to be in late, he needs some more sleep. By 11:00 a.m. he has acknowledged that he simply cannot safely work, he can't even leave the house. Now, I've been with Shawn for 10 years. In those 10 years, he's only called out of work 3 times - this being the 3rd. I know he's feeling pretty badly to call out of work. He spends the rest of the day whimpering on the couch and sleeping upstairs.

At some point during the morning hours I called Evan's doctor again because I'm worried about dehydration. In the past 24 hours he's only peed 3 times and he's not making real tears. When I relay this information to the doctor, she tells me to take him directly to the emergency room for IV fluids. There is no way Nick can stay home with Shawn and I'm NOT taking both kids to the ER alone. It was bad enough with just Evan last time, I don't want to deal with both of them this time. I ask if there's anything else I can try given the situation. She calls in a prescription for a anti-nausea suppository.

I now believe the way to cure most ailments in most men is to threaten to shove some foreign object up their ass. Without utilizing a single bullet, Evan seems to be on the mend. I'm glad because the side-effects of the medicine seem dangerous (possible shallow breathing which could be fatal in children under 2-years-old).

By Sunday morning all my men seem to be feeling much better. Evan wound up having a bit of a set-back Sunday night. I'm thinking it was from the pizza he ate for lunch. He stayed home from school again Monday, but re-joined his friends yesterday.

The school was very concerned about him while he was sick and they were glad he was able to go back. My boss was just as happy since I was able to re-join the work force. His doctor is relieved he didn't have to go to the hospital. Oddly enough, the only one still complaining is my insurance company who keeps calling to yell at me for skipping his 18-month exam and shots!

Somehow, even though I was caring for and cleaning up after everyone in the house all week, I managed to not get sick this time. Interestingly enough, I was the only one who didn't eat any of the bananas.

Damn bananas!