9, February 2013
THE MOM:
The patient has developed a bad sinus and now an ear infection. He’s on antibiotics.
Am feeling slightly guilty now about thinking he’s been making a meal out of it all. Last night was awakened at 3:00am by sobbing. Found Alex in the hallway outside our room, on his knees, in floods of tears. I thought somebody had died but couldn’t think who, or why he would know it before I did. But no, it’s his ear, throbbing, the pressure building. Said his head was “about to explode”. Convinced he was going to be deaf for the rest of his life. Thank you, the internet. He had spent two hours reading about burst eardrums and God knows. His father said “Oh for chrissakes!”, took another half sleeping pill and rolled over.
I got up.
Made Alex hot water with lemon and honey, filled a hot water bottle, put him back to bed, bottle on bum ear, covered him up, sat with my arm around him, arm went to sleep, changed sides, half sitting up half lying on top of the covers, between Alex and Mabel the dog, who’s excited by my arrival and dangles her spitty stuffed toy in my face until I grab it and hide it and she settles next to me, meanwhile am saying shhh, shhh and other soothing mother stuff to Alex, take deep long breaths, hon, like you do in the Alexander Technique, try to make yourself think of something besides your ear, perhaps a book from childhood, and got my arms crossed now, one stroking the dog, one stroking Alex’s left hand, and my glasses, which I’ve forgotten I have on, have slipped off my nose but I can’t let go to fix them or reach the covers to pull over me, plus the hood of my robe is starting to tickle my ear but I keep lying there being cold and uncomfortable but not really minding, listening to my son’s breathing, counting the ticks of his old Peter Rabbit clock on the wall and whispering lines I remember from Goodnight Moon, the way I used to when he was a baby, willing him to go to sleep.
“Goodnight clocks and goodnight socks…”
Finally his breathing becomes quiet and even. I remove the dog from my shoulder and creep off the bed.
“Goodnight mush!” Alex whispers just as I get to the door. Just like he used to do. “Thank you, Mummy.”
