We survived for almost two and a half years without Julia succumbing to a puke-inducing stomach bug. I’d say that’s a pretty good run. She had three episodes today so far, and I’m dearly hoping that no more occur since that would involve replacing bed sheets, a second bath, and a lot of other unpleasantness.
For her part, Julia has endured the ordeal with remarkable fortitude. She has dutifully pointed herself towards the sink or trash can as needed, and she hasn’t cried once in spite of everything. She’s been extra clingy and devoid of much appetite, but otherwise her normal, pleasant self. Being this type of sick is a new experience for her, and I think she might even be curious about what it means even as she’s going through all of the unpleasantness.
I found myself feeling oddly comfortable with the situation, appreciating the relative familiarity of a run-of-the-mill stomach virus. It’s a far cry from her bout with LCH—even though the symptoms are actually worse in the short term, I have no anxiety about what a day or two of digestive nastiness will affect her many years from now. I’m not glad that she has to go through this, but I am glad that it’s something normal for a change. We don’t have to rush to the ER in case something gets slightly infected, or she has a fever over 100.5 degrees. We don’t have to administer any special antibiotics on a three-week regimen. We don’t have to worry. That’s a nice change.