As far as I know, his dad put him in the bed and when Ivan woke me sometime before 6:00 AM to tell me that his mouth hurt again, he was all glassy eyed with hot pink skin. It was very sad, and I would have been sadder if I were not so exhausted that I could barely think about anything but survival. Ivan's temperature measured 102, so I sat beside the phone waiting for the doctor's office to open, slugged coffee like I was a participant in some terrible drinking contest, and fretted. It took a bit of investigative work, but I finally figured out that when Ivan said his mouth hurt, he meant that his throat hurt. His throat was indeed very fuschia colored.
We headed to the doctor's office with no makeup, unwashed face and hair, and questionable body odor. Ivan wore his PJs, and behaved alternately thrilled to play with the no doubt disease infested toys at the doctor's office and miserably ill. Ivan bravely endured a strep throat culture and much throat looking, temperature taking, weighing, and ear looking before being declared most likely strep free. Final results will be had tomorrow.
The fever endured throughout the day and did not break until after nap time. The whole day was pretty much spent lounging around and slurping children's Tylenol. It was pretty dull, and I was thrilled that my husband took over sickbed duties when he came home so that I could got for a three mile run and then hit the pool around the corner for a mile swim.
Now, the bummer about fevers is that nursery schools and gym nurseries and Bible study nurseries do not want you to bring children back to the nursery until they are fever free for 24 hours. This means that Ivan will most likely feel better tomorrow, but we will be again stranded at home.
Bleh.
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