Naked and Frustrated

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said to Liz standing there in nothing but my underwear.

I’m always loud. Nearly always obnoxious. But I’m not a yeller. It doesn’t happen often, me yelling uncontrollably. When I yell it’s usually because I’m stuck in a stressful situation with no hope of resolution. As the stress folds over onto itself repeatedly, it creates this extremely uncomfortable frustration That frustration leads to intense agitation. So intense that the moment someone contributes to my stress in any way, I lash out. Then, instantly, I feel like an asshole. So I apologize. With a real apology, the kind that comes with no “but you” attached.

“I’m sorry you got puked on.” She doesn’t retaliate. She knows that even though I was yelling at her, it was really the situation.

This situation is that Caroline is sick. She started coughing Sunday night. Then on Monday she was sent home from daycare with a fever. She was extremely miserable that night. So on Tuesday she went to the doctor. Unfortunately her regular doctor isn’t in the office on Tuesdays. So the doctor available on Tuesday declared that her lungs were clear, her throat was clear, and her ears were clear, “come back on Thursday if the fever comes back.” She really was better that night, but Liz kept her with her while she worked from home yesterday. Then everything went downhill.

Diarrhea. A fever spiking to 103.9 under the arm. Back to the doctor, her regular doctor, who declared that she had “two raging ear infections and very congested lungs.” Particularly the lower right lung. Which was disconcerting because either the doctor from Tuesday should not be seen again, or this thing blew up really fast. Thankfully a nebulizer treatment cleared up the lungs. By the time the crew picked me up at the train station, Caroline was very happy.

After dinner, I gave her her perscriptions. Antibiotics for the ears and a steroid for the lungs. Then upstairs to get ready for bed. While Liz was poking at a splinter in Thomas’ finger Caroline started coughing. Caroline doesn’t handle coughing very well, and this fit ended with her puking a sizable amount of her medicine on our bed. Which was gross. I don’t like gross. So I yelled for Liz and we switched kids (after I cleaned her up). Then after an hour of Caroline dozing and hacking and moaning on Liz while her fever spiked again, I took Caroline back for only a moment while Liz said good night to Thomas.

In that moment Caroline decided to vomit again. First down the front of my shirt. Then down the back, for the sake of symmetry.

Liz hearing the commotion came running with a towel and caught a significant portion while standing behind me. Then Caroline leaned back in my arms moving away from my body. So Liz stepped back in the opposite direction. Then Caroline puked twice more down my front. This is when I yelled.

“DAMMIT ELIZABETH!”

“What?”

“WHY DID YOU TAKE THE TOWEL AWAY WHILE SHE WAS BARFING ALL OVER ME?!”

Not that it made a difference. I was already basted by the time she showed up with the towel. But I was frustrated.

Frustrated that we took her to the damn doctor yesterday when she wasn’t sick enough to warrant any treatment. Frustrated that this stupid cold got so much worse today after being better yesterday. Frustrated that I had to get updates from text messages while I was at work. Frustrated that we have three thermometers that gave three vastly different readings when used at the same time. Frustrated that she puked up all of the medicine she got last night. Frustrated that all we can do while she moans and cries and hacks and pukes is sit there and listen and be hacked and puked on.

And also, I really don’t like being puked on. Not even a little bit.