The Little Optimists

Every March, right around my birthday, tiny yellow flowers push their way clear of the frozen ground at the Grandview house. Dad called them "the little optimists." I always liked that.

Thurs. morning Sam was suddenly quite sick. He had a fever and a severe headache. I kept him home with me until Millie's afternoon Kindergarten when the children's Motrin was doing its job well, and he wanted to join his friends for their daily soccer game. He didn't come out when I arrived to pickup everyone from their school day. The secretary ran over to the car and told me Sam had fallen asleep in the office. I found him curled up in a little ball, sweatshirt over his head. He was confused and feverish when I carried him out to the car.

Friday morning a friend who works at the school called and suggested I take him in to be seen. I almost didn't. After all, he was still eating some, wasn't sneezing or coughing, but just ache-y and miserable. I called and was able to get him right in. When I described the symptoms and my embarrassment at bringing him in, she said, "I'm glad you did, I'd put money in this being the Swine Flu." He was fairly good about the nasal swabs, and then we counted the change in my purse while we waited for the results.

It came back positive. She faxed a Rx for Tami-Flu to the only pharmacy willing to compound the meds into a syrup. They worked quickly to fill the order and reminded me to get this in him as soon as possible. We had caught the virus in the first 24-48 hours. By taking the Tami-Flu we could shorten the length and severity of his bout with it.

I marveled that all those many minor miracles had occurred that put this in motion. I was almost exhilarated as I snuggled him into my red chair, piled him with blankets and kissed his blonde head. I knew what to do, what to watch for, and felt I was being watched over.

I knew it was possible for others in this busy household to catch it, but I felt optimistic.
I felt like those little yellow flowers --ready to face the sun despite the challenge.


PS We are on day four. The fever is completely gone, as well as the headache, and fatigue.

He is back to his imaginative and active self. We of course were confined to home during church. Sam created a time machine and some brotherly mischief.

Sam is inside his Kirkland time machine. "Hey --let me in too."

"Oh yeah? Take that!"

Max's clever Mom finds a cool container for him too.
He's not falling for it. This is his disgusted look.

"Quit taking pictures of me Mom. I'm getting ready to pout..."

"Yep --here I go...doesn't matter how comfy a spot I've got. When a guy needs to mope, he's gotta do it now."