Well, here we go again. For those of you who have been following, my daughter has been fighting pneumonia for almost two weeks now. She was given the heartbreaking news this past weekend that she could not swim in the Junior Olympics and I did my best to take her mind off of it. Movies, American Girl Doll store, eating at Gordon Ramsey's Fat Cow (she loves him) and I was even able to swing some Bruno Mars tickets for us on Sunday night! (I hit Rockstar Mom status, BTW) She's feeling better but that cough! It's just awful. But, in my mind it's just "breaking up", right? No.
This morning we went for what we thought was going to be a positive doctor's appointment and follow up X-ray, but that's not how it turned out. The pneumonia is still there, albeit better. The lungs are still full and the doctor thinks she sounds worse than she did on Thursday. She started her on the breathing treatments again and gave her the choice of either 7 days of yucky antibiotics or a shot today and another one on Thursday. Neither of which is a "good choice".
With a logical thinking mother (or mutha), I talked her into the latter. Turns out, the antibiotic in the shot is so thick and strong that it has to be given in TWO SHOTS and they both have to be given... on the butt. She fretted and fidgeted until the nurse came in, which then turned to tears of bravery when the shot came and went and then came and went again. It took every ounce of my being not to cry myself. Seriously. I felt the ugly cry start at the base of my throat. I swallowed hard to not to let an emotional gasp for air exit my lips.
Needless to say, her ass is killing her. Even a cookie and soda couldn't console her afterwards. What could, however, was a big black dog named Ben. The minute she sat down on the couch, this was the position he took. He's such a good boy.
But, I'm most proud of my girl. She "Mighty Girled Up" and took the shots like a champ. And when I told her that, I thought she was going to give me an eye roll or just ignore me. Instead, she took both my hands, interlinked our fingers, looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Thanks Mom."
Could you die?