Scarlet(t) isn’t just a Southern belle!

I guess it started Friday night, when she only picked at her pizza. I really began to notice when, by Saturday at lunch time, Audrey refused to eat anything at all. We were going on three meals and one snack time where she had little more than a few feeble gulps of milk. There were no other symptoms until later that afternoon. The four of us were at J’s friend’s surprise 29th birthday party and A would not leave his arms. She became lethargic throughout the evening and earlier on during the party we noticed that she had what looked like a faint rash on her chest and back.

By the time we said our early good-byes, she had developed a raging fever. We couldn’t figure out what it was that had come over her so quickly. We dosed her with Tylenol and put her to bed, only to be woken up in the middle of the night by her screams and a returning fever.

Grandma and Grampa M. attempted to coax her appetite and energy on Sunday by bribing her with chocolate and Curious George balloons, but their efforts were ignored as Audrey clung to her daddy, weak and despondent. I scoured the Internet between the cries and trying to comfort Maggie, who clearly knew something was amiss. I looked through my book of what to expect blah blah blah, only to find five different things that it could be. Rash. High fever. Loss of Appetite. I finally diagnosed her with a general virus. A bug that would go as quickly as it came.

But she didn’t eat that Sunday. And we found ourselves awoken again in the middle of the night. Another fever had crept up when the medicine wore off. And this time, it brought along more of the rash. It was now up to her neck and ears.

By Monday morning, the three of us had seen approximately two hours of sleep. Maggie remained blissfully unaware of our torturous night and slept soundly for her usual nine hours, snoring softly into the neck of Cookie Number One. I got out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to go online to check the time when the Beans’ pediatrician opened for the morning. I left a message asking them to call me as soon as they got in for an appointment. Her fever was down again, because of the Tylenol, but I knew it would return. If I didn’t receive a call back right away, I was mapping in my mind how I’d take her to the ER while J stayed behind with HRP, all the while telling myself that I’m a crazy mother and they’ll tell me she’s just a little sick.

At the office, Dr. B. looked at her rash first. By now it had spread to her forehead and chin. She asked me immediately if I knew of anyone who complained of a sore throat. I replied that I hadn’t heard anything of the sort and asked her why I should be concerned about that. She didn’t respond immediately and checked A’s ears and throat. She informed me that her throat was inflamed and that she had been in the throes of strep throat and now had scarlet fever.

Scarlet fever?

I didn’t even know that people could have that anymore, in this century. I thought that it was a storybook illness. Gilbert Blythe, after all, was sick with scarlet fever, which causes Anne to fall back into love with him. The little boy in The Velveteen Rabbit had most of his toys burned because of it! WTF?!?!? Of course I freaked out. I’m a mom, remember.

My no-nonsense doctor laughed off the look of fear in my eyes, told me that she’ll likely have a fever for another three days and sent me off with a prescription for a bottle of Amoxicillin and the warning that, yes it is contagious, and, yes, Maggie has been exposed already.

My heart jumped into my throat. I couldn’t handle two Beans like this. Though A was weak with the fever and lack of nourishment, it didn’t diminish her ability to cry incessantly, which she had been doing since Sunday. I couldn’t imagine handling both of them with this. It was enough that M was beginning to feel the brunt of most of my attention being given to Audrey, and responding accordingly.

We trudged home, both of us weak and in need of a good long nap. The rest of Monday consisted of more tears (from both of us), another fever and no sleep. By Tuesday, J had to return to work, so we sent M to my mom’s house for a little TLC while I tried to figure out thirty different ways to move A from arm to arm without sending her into a fit. I didn’t know if the rash (now spreading to her arms and legs) hurt or if she was crying from the inflamed throat or the malnourishment or if it was all of the above.

Her fever finally broke Tuesday night, which was a sign that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. She still had the rash all over her body, but it seemed to be fading from its origin, on her back and chest. By Thursday, she began calling for her sister, who had been separated from her for four days. Because of this, I knew that she was starting to feel better. Later that night, I saw her first real smile in a week and my heart warmed to see her sprinkling her sister with spontaneous hugs throughout the evening. On Friday, I rushed home from work and, like the last several days, inspected her body to see if the rash had retreated. This time, I saw that her rash had all but disappeared. She was better!

This weekend, the only remnants of the weeklong illness to be found on the Bean were the wobbly walk and the khaki shorts, which only last week fit perfectly, that occasionally fell into a pool around her ankles.

I told S. last week that it is miserable when you are ill yourself, but it’s infinitely more painful when your child is sick and weak and you have no idea how to make her suffering end, how to comfort her and tell her that it will all be over soon. It just tore my heart to see her lying limp on the floor, having fallen asleep mid-cry, completely broken. To a parent, no cut is just a minor one, no fever is something to not worry about and no rash is just that – a rash. Your baby is sick and all you know is that you need to make her better. And she is. Finally!