Chippie’s flatness had turned to severe clinginess when we arrived at destination yesterday afternoon, complete with a fever, and a not very nice sounding cough.
Dash to local chemist before bed to get hands on some baby panadol, which we had neglected to pack before leaving home yesterday morning.
Pandolled up before bed, where he slept on the loungeroom floor with Monkey Boy and I, and he slept like a log. Until about 2.30, where he woke, burning hot, cried a bit, made his way over to me, gave a horrible, seal-like cough, lay on me and promptly fell asleep again. A hot little bod against mine, and hot little head wedged into my neck, I found it difficult to return to sleep myself. Torn between letting him sleep and getting up to get some more panadol for him, I chose the let him sleep. Another awful cough in his sleep then quiet.
A little too quiet.
Far too quiet for my liking at this hour of morning. I held my breath, because that’s what you do when you need to listen better. I could hear breathing. I’d ruled mine out, because I was slowly asphyxiating, but was sure I could only hear one person breathing. Attempt to determine which of my two son’s it was.
Just short of passing out I established that both, in fact, were breathing and still alive, my panic returned to normal and I eventually drifted back to sleep, toasty warm from toasty warm baby lying on top of me.
Sleep was short lived as he awoke again not long after, still hot, still coughing horribly and I contemplated getting up and driving to nearest hospital so they could do something with it. They’re much more knowledgeable about these sorts of things, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to be responsible for babty who frightens bejesus out of me at Stupid O’Clock with horrible cough and lack of breathing.
Decide at 6am that that is exactly what I’m going to do, get up, get dressed, give him some panadol for his temperature and go and inform Grumpy where I’m going. He decides to accompany me, which sets of more concerns relating to the likely length of time we’ll be away, the fact that Godzilla has no idea that we’re leaving and how they’ll be with relatives that we (unfortunately) rarely see for who knows how long … an hour, 6 hours, a whole day?
I’m supposed to be on holiday! Aren’t holiday’s about relaxing and not worrying about the stresses of the day to day? LIARS! Big. Fat. Liars!
Off we head, locating the hospital (went there as it was 6am and a weekend – and we had no idea where else to go). No one in emergency, except for a crazy lady who kept talking about Jesus, so we went straight in, Chippie diagnosed by an extremely tired looking doctor who, I’m hoping, was about to finish his shift and not start one, with croup, given whatever it was he needed and we were sent off home again with a prescription. Back to our destination within the hour!
And then the day began … visting, musuem, Parliament house, wineries …. all in the plan.