i got the fever

Groggy, I wake up to her plaintive cries. I'm sick mommy, I so sick. I reach her and she's burning up, a piping hot version of my child, heat radiating a foot off her skin. I lay her down in bed next to me and she says My stomach, mommy. Moments later her little body is convulsing and I just barely made it stumbling in the dark to the bathroom. Her body shakes and gags, she cries but is so entirely brave. I don't stop holding her and her feet don't touch the ground.

Finished, I bring her back to bed and hold her, she is so hot and I can't get the goddamn newfangled digital thermometer to work right so I have no idea how hot exactly, is hot.

I hold her all night, she cries and sweats, medicine is promptly rejected by her stomach but I try anyways fearing the heat. I lay awake and my mind takes over. Every horrible illness I can think of comes to mind, dengue, malaria, things impossible to have where we live but the names float around my brain anyways. I map out the route to the ER, I set my mind to watch. I overreact in times like this, at least on the inside, the helplessness of fever.

The long night turns into day and we try more medicine again and this time it stays put. She's not well but I am not panicked, more resigned for a longer Sunday than I'd imagined twelve hours before. The helplessness of fever, the finiteness of mothering and how little we can actually fix runs circles in my addled brain.