There is absolutely nothing more heartbreaking than watching a little child who is sick. It’s about ten times worse when that child is your own. That’s how I felt last night as I watched little Henry who, amazingly enough, was sound asleep as his body was wracked with cough after cough. There was nothing I could do. Part of me wanted to wake him up and see if the coughing would stop. The other part of me, the part that won my internal struggle, wanted to leave him be with the hopes that he would manage to get a good night’s sleep. Apparently he did because he woke up this morning acting like normal.
He’s still sick though, and now I have a sore throat too. It’s beyond frustrating given that at Thanksgiving we were both sick little puppies. He had a fever of 104 and I had a cough that kept me (and our entire household) up all night every night for four days straight. We have since been “vaccinated” with the flu shot at the recommendation of our doctors. I use quotation marks because I’m having serious doubts as to the effectiveness of said shots, now that we’re both sick again.
I really was hoping that we’d get through the rest of flu season unscathed but apparently that’s not to be the case. Now I just have to wait for the colds to run their course and pray that we survive the week without too much damage. But what I really don’t want is another night of listening to my boy suffer while knowing there’s nothing I can do. Because it really is heartbreaking, absolutely heartbreaking.