Behind the Iron Curtain

No, I'm not a communist. It's a metaphor.

So it's been a little bit since I've updated the world on the dark, sick world of the Miller family. Hyperbolic? Maybe. But let's be fair...we haven't had three healthy people in the same house since September. I'm tired.


At my last report Benjamin and I both had upper respiratory infections. On Saturday I went to the doctor because it was fairly evident that tiny elves had begun to construct some sort of shelter in my sinus cavities, and they were drilling and hammering away. Also because green crap was oozing out of my eye holes. Two hours later I emerged with sinusitis, conjunctivitis, antibiotics, prescription-strength Tylenol, old-school pseudo-ephedrine, and eye drops. Two days later I took Ben to see his doctor. We emerged an hour later with an ear infection, a sinus infection, and antibiotics. Matt had also started to feel congested. This morning Ben's babysitter texted me to tell me that her daughter, with whom Benjamin spends several hours a day, has croup. So.....we're praying our little hearts out on that one. Winner winner chicken dinner.

All things considered, at least no one is in the hospital. We may have paid for a new MRI machine at Kaiser with all the money we've spent on doctor visits, hospitalizations, and medications, but it could be worse.

I would love to tell you what else we've been up to, but really we've just gone to work and sat around at home feeling miserable and trying to comfort our sweet little boy, who has turned into a holy terror...and justifiably so. He can't breathe very well and he coughs constantly, so he can't sleep, and is therefore in a constant state of being over-tired. He doesn't have much of an appetite, so he's not eating much, so he's weak. And he's in a good amount of pain. And he's been feeling like this constantly for over a month. I can't blame him for finally becoming a crazy monster. Last night he threw his dinner at me, hit me, then wanted me to hold him while I ate dinner. He is NEVER aggressive. But feeling like crap for a really really long time is starting to take an emotional toll on him. Today my blessed mother came over and watched him after I called her at 6:40 panicking because I just found out his babysitter's house is infected with whatever and it was too late for me to call a sub. Ben was an angel. He played and laughed all morning, and actually took a good nap. Right now he is happily playing with his cars. I could cry I'm so happy. I'm really hoping that, as his doctor promised on Monday, we have our son back.

In other news (and actual good news, at that), Benjamin apparently sensed my imminent freak-out about him not talking and has at least doubled, if not tripled, his vocabulary in the last couple of weeks. Woo hoo! We don't need any silly speech therapy. Silly Kaiser.

So that's the state of the union at present. Some day I dream of leaving my house and interacting with other people. I dream of going on a date with my husband, going to the park, and spending time with my friends. Some day. Sigh. Until then, I'm thinking we should quarantine ourselves, maybe until mid-March.