I spuddle.

I deliberated long and hard about whether or not to immunize the kids (and me) against H1N1. The vaccine has had only limited testing, no matter how the government wants to frame it up, they still just don’t know about long term effects. Then some more kids died from H1N1 and I found myself going slightly insane with worry. I know more about H1N1 now than any one person should because I spent numerous days researching it on-line from every different angle and I can tell you this: the arguments for and against the vaccine are both equally compelling. The thing was that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was saturated with information and overloaded with worry and I really did not know what the right thing was to do but I did know that I couldn’t spend any more time researching it because all the research was doing was making me more insane and less sure about what to do and the decision-making process was pretty much taking over my life, I’m obsessive like that, as you know, so I had to DO something.

I took the kids up to the VIHA clinic at UVic and we stood in line for 1.5 hours, which isn’t that bad compared to what it could have been, and The Bun had my iPhone to play with so was reasonably happy and The Birdy is like a module of self-entertainment so mostly she entertained herself by eating an apple and lying on her back shouting “Mooooommmm, I NEED you.” She’s taken to calling me MOM instead of Mummy, which is very odd and I have no idea where she’s heard MOM but she won’t let go of it and refuses to use Mummy because she is a BIG GIRL (she’s 2) and also she drags it out so it has two syllables, so it’s really more like MAwwwww – uuuuum, in that eye-rolling tone that fourteen year old girls adapt when they are trying to convey great disdain towards their parentage. The problem with the whole standing-in-line-for-1.5-hours thing is that it was irritating and I found myself becoming that person who watches the line closely and becomes violent towards line-jumpers, except not violent, more just infuriated. The ups and downs of my blood pressure in that line up should have been studied for science.

By the time we got to the gym where the shots were being doled out, I’d almost forgotten why we were there, and then when I remembered, I had a panic attack because actually I DON’T LIKE SHOTS but being a MOOOoooooom, I have to pretend that shots are AWESOME and I LOVE them, which was getting increasingly difficult as the shot itself approached. But I am nothing if not All About The Kids, so I pretended that the shot felt like being KISSED BY AN ANGEL which is true if the angel is also a vampire and dragging her teeth slowly through your flesh while spitting poison into your veins. Those shots? Hurt. Actually, that’s a lie. The H1N1 shot hurt not at all. In fact, I thought maybe she hadn’t done it. It felt like being prodded gently in the arm by a jersey cow. The FLU shot (and I have no idea why I agreed to have it, but by the time I got to the nurses, I was very susceptible towards doing anything they said just to get out of there) hurt like [insert swear word here].

Did I mention that our nurse was lovely? She was. She had the most amazing skin and claimed to be 40, i.e. older than me, but I do not for a minute believe her because I swear she was twenty-five and just messing with me, and honestly, in my next life, if I get to make a wishlist, at the top of my list is going to be “lovely skin” although I realize that you don’t get to choose and probably, if I’ve learned anything at all from Fairy Tales and other grimly moral stories, if you ask for lovely skin, you get it but you also get an extra leg or seven nipples or worse. So you should ask only for world peace and doves and happiness for all and then that’s when you get the lovely skin. You know, in case it comes up, you’ll thank me for that advice later.

The Birdy went first, and as expected, she was delighted to rip her shirt off and leap about with the nurse’s keys while chattering away about whatever The Birdy was chattering about, which I can’t remember. She barely paused in her monologue when the needle went in and was pretty excited to have bandaids and to leap up and continue with what she was saying. She did not appear to register the shot at all. Meanwhile, The Bun was getting increasingly anxious. I could tell he was faking being brave and it was KILLING me because oh my god, until you are a parent you don’t know how easily your heart will be ripped out of your chest and wrung out by the sight of your 4 year old pretending to be brave while his chin trembles in fright. He maintained a half-smile during the entire ordeal and did not cry because, he later told me, he hadn’t realized crying was an option. When he found out our neighbour’s son cried, he was beside himself. Why was Matthew allowed to cry and he hadn’t known you WERE ALLOWED? Anyway, TRUST ME, it was poignant. Maybe you had to be there.

In any event, after the painful shots, which were then becoming increasingly, insanely painful as the injected arm tried to vigorously reject the dose of mercury and squalene and assorted other crap and additives that it had just received, we were sent to the waiting area so in case there was some reaction, we would be near nursing professionals.

This is when The Bun lay down on the floor and began moaning. He mumbled, “I’m going to go to sleep, Mummy.” Because he still calls me Mummy. Like a normal preschooler who has not morphed into a teenager overnight. The Birdy at this point was trying to unfold bleachers from the wall, it looked like something that was going to end badly, so I was distracted, which is no excuse for shouting at The Bun, which is what I did, because I assumed he was fooling around and was not actually ailing, which was stupid because we were in the WAITING FOR A REACTION AREA and he was clearly HAVING A REACTION. After I shouted at him, I inspected him closely and realized he was absolutely soaked with sweat and his lips were blue.

We rushed back to the ER nurse who we’d just met at our station and she picked up The Bun as though he weighed 4 pounds instead of FIFTY, which is what he weighs and whisked him to the hospital-like bed set up in the corner, meanwhile I tried to catch up and concentrated on not DYING OF A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE HOLY SHIT HE WAS GOING TO DIE AND OBVIOUSLY I’D MADE THE WRONG CHOICE ABOUT THIS VACCINE. He didn’t die. This is not that kind of post. But it was scary. It wasn’t THAT scary at the time, it’s almost scarier now when I flash back to his face, bluish in colour and the sweat and the way he wasn’t really responding and seemed to already be drifting away. That is something you never want to see in your child’s face, TRUST ME.

I’m not telling you to sway your decision about what you are going to do with the H1N1 vaccine. Do what feels right to you. I feel OK knowing that I’ve protected him from a virus that could have terrible ramifications, but if I had to do it again, after seeing him the way I saw him, I doubt that I could.

He recovered pretty fast, within about twenty minutes he was sitting up and a nurse was stroking his sweaty brow and another one was gently dribbling orange juice into his mouth and I could tell that the balance had shifted between him being in a bad way and him actually relishing this lovely attention. His lips turned pink again and he was able to sit up and by the time we left, he was running around and shrieking as though nothing had happened. Which was good. It was perfect. It was the best ending to that story that I can even think of and I’m good at thinking of alternate endings. So then I went to the toystore and bought him a game that he’s ALWAYS WANTED because at that point I was so relieved that he’d pulled through that I would have bought him a boat or even a small Ferrarri or a goat for the backyard if that is what he asked for. The Birdy got a prize, too, although I am pretty confident she had no idea what was being rewarded as she’d forgotten all about the shot and was now more concerned about whether or not I was going to change her diaper already. Next up, toilet training!

Update: This morning, I woke up so dizzy I couldn’t stand for a few minutes and my arm feels like it’s been thoroughly smashed with a bat. The kids are grumpy (see: arm pain) and I almost threw up and/or fainted in The Birdy’s ballet class (all apparently normal after effects of this vaccine). This vaccine can BITE ME, although arguably it already is, so maybe it can just let up already because I’ve had ENOUGH.

Back to our regularly scheduled nonsense posts about nothing forthwith, I hope.

Filed under: Health, Kids