Plague Rages

Last Thursday (April 16th), a certain young man, awoke with what we thought was a couple of midge bites on the side of his neck. 

With the warmer weather, the fact that I’d swatted a few of the little punkies, and both mummy and daddy had become victims to these voracious vampires, we thought no more of it.

Later that day, there were three more ‘bites’, this time, on his belly. The following morning, there were 8-10 on his torso, leading to his underarm, three in the crease of his elbow, and three on his knee.

Clearly, this was more than a case of midge bites, this was a case of chicken pox. Well, except they weren’t blistering. Maybe it was just a mild case?

  

It wasn’t long and my poor little munchkins health began to slide downhill, fast.

Saturday night, my wife called me at work to let me know that she had taken him to the local minor injuries hospital. After a lot of kerfuffle, she had managed to see a doctor who diagnosed him not with chicken pox, but with a possible case of Henoch-Schönlien Purpura (HSP), a rare condition where the blood vessels become inflamed. Read more about it here.

The main thing we discovered, on his visit, that in order to see an out of hours doctor there, we have to make an appointment via the NHS’s 111 service. In fact even ambulance paramedics, and the nurses at the same hospital as the out of hours doctor have to use the 111 service as well, as we were to discover the following night.

Sunday night saw the visit of an ambulance to the house. JB had a severe aversion to light, so much so that he covered his eyes and buried his head in the sofa, which is a big sign of meningitis.

According to reports, I’m not sure who had the most fun, JB or the paramedics attending. Maybe JB at a push when they turned the lights on for him to see as they left. Cheers guys, you rock!

This was closely followed by a trip to the local hospital where JB was diagnosed with ear infection, tonsillitis, and an unknown virus. A bottle of Clarithromycin given, and a pat on the head for being a good boy.

  
As you can imagine, three days of sleep deprivation had its toll on our health and wellbeing, and we were fast becoming extras for a certain Romero movie, that might happen to be similar to the name of my blog. The fact that there would be another three more days, and we would shortly be promoted to stars of the show is another matter.

Monday morning saw the start of a measles type rash on his chest and belly, which got redder as the day progressed.

  
Tuesday saw us visit yet another doctor, who seemed to circle my little boy like he was leper, and informed us that there are at least a dozen viruses that give the same rash, and if we wish to get an accurate diagnosis, bloods would be needed and a week to process.

Of course, in a week, it will be nothing but a distant memory, A mere footnote, or maybe a small pimple in the story that is my little boys life. One that thankfully, as I have been told a hundred times, he’ll have no recollection of.

Well now my lovely droogs, it’s about time I left you to your meanderings. If you’re interested in reading more, you could always check out my “lovely” Trip to the Park, that soon turned into a nightmare. Or maybe A Clockwork Thomas, where my son attacks me with a cheeky little engine from Sodor…I’m beginning to see a pattern forming. One where I get hurt…a lot!

Until next time, be dobby smeck grimly, and skvat jeezny by the sharries droogs.

Dohigh.