Bedside Manner

On a Wednesday two weeks ago, I woke up with a familiar heaviness behind my eyes. As the day went on, light and noise became unbearable and I began to tremble. But, because I was the new guy, I soldiered on, hiding in my office and speaking in whispers to anyone dense enough to not recognize the pain in my face. The Beans were particularly excitable that evening. Their energy level seems to multiply exponentially as they get older, but that night, everything seemed louder and more intense. I gritted my teeth through bath time and was never happier to see Daddy Bean walk through the garage door. By Thursday, the migraine had settled in and made itself comfortable. I left the Beans with my mother-in-law and crawled into my bed-cocoon; the only thing that really helps it to go away. When Saturday came around and I was still in the throes of my headache, The Pie took things into her own hands.

From an early age, Maggie has taken on the “big sister” role with ease. She’s naturally bigger than Audrey and, even though she is only one minute older, and only by virtue of her placement in my womb, she has been charged with the duty of taking care of her little sister and of being the role model. She loves to help. She takes the dirty diapers to the garbage can, makes sure that Audrey has the right cup and scolds the dogs when they start to get too rough in their play. Whenever one of us coughs, she’s quick to ask, “Are you okay?” And no one knows better than her what will make you feel better. She even offers her beloved Cookie Monster if you are really a sorry case.

That Saturday morning, I lumbered downstairs and parked myself on the couch so that I could at least observe the play time, if I couldn’t participate. I pulled a blanket to my nose and covered my head with an extra pillow. I didn’t do much more than that throughout the day. Pie had known for a couple of days that I wasn’t right and on Saturday, she had had enough. With a concerned yet determined look on her face, she peered closely into mine and asked, “Are you okay, Momma?” I explained to her that my head hurt really bad and she replied, with confidence, “I make you feewl bettahh! Hee-ahh.” She deftly shoved Cookie No. 2 under my chin, tucked part of the blanket around him and peppered me with a few kisses. She continued to check on me throughout the day. When Daddy Bean mentioned from across the room that I should have some caffiene to help with the headache, I agreed that I might feel better after a pop.

“You wanna pop, Momma?” The Bean asked. I didn’t know that she had been paying attention. She seemed too busy trying to instigate a fight with her sister.

“Yeah baby. Daddy’s getting it.”

“Daddy. You have to get he a pop! You have to get he a pop!” Maggie wasn’t going to stand for any lollygagging. She marched into the kitchen where her father stood and looked up at him to show him that she meant business.

When she saw that he was acting on her commands, she returned to my side to assure me that relief was near. After I took a few sips, I looked at her and smiled.

“Thank you baby.”

“Daddy got you a pop. It make you feewl bettahh. You feewl bettahh now Mom?”

“Yes, my girl, I feel better now.”

“Oh. That’s good. I wuff you Mom.”

My very own Florence Nightengale!