The Oh Waily Plague House

Hello from The Oh Waily Plague House.

Yes.  I have been reasonably quiet here, again, for a reason.  The fact that the Oh Waily family have been acting like the human equivalent of illness skittles kind of cuts in to my reading, writing and creativity time.
We started about a month ago with what looked like your run-of-the-mill cough and cold brought home from daycare (presumably) by Miss Oh.  This was passed along to Ms Oh, Mr Oh and Gran Oh.  It took me two weeks to shake it, more or less.  Mr Oh and Gran Oh have had a much harder time with it unfortunately.
Personally I still can’t work out how I have come through this month, second only to Master Oh, in being unscathed by continuing illness.  Usually I am skittle No. 1.

Following the cough and cold incident came our not-so-brief visit to Starship two Sunday evenings ago.
A couple of days previous to this Miss Oh also appeared to have brought home a 24/48 hour fever, with no other real symptoms other than a bit of misery.
So, following on from my previous experience with Miss Oh and going to the local A&E, then having to follow up by taking her to Starship A&E in the end anyway, I convinced Mr Oh to skip the middle man.   After an interminable wait and a couple of nurse/junior doctor check-ups that should have picked up what WE THE PARENTS were telling them (you know, the people who know the child and have eyes in their heads as well as bit of brain backing them up) we finally saw the senior on duty (if there was more than one you could have fooled me).  She at least had a clue.  Go to a bright exam room, have a darn good look at the throat area and then check his ears.  Even I, a non-medical person of the first quality, could have instructed all previous people on what to look at and look for !!

Bleating aside, it turned out that young Master Oh had tonsillitis and that was the source of all the poor little mite’s misery that day.  Turns out you can have viral tonsillitis.  I didn’t know that before.  I always presumed it involved those lovely little bacteria getting stuck about their work.  When I was a kid you were nearly always dosed up on some sort of antibiotic for tonsillitis.  Ah, the younger generation are doing it tough…  “go home, give him paracetamol, make sure he’s getting enough liquid, and we’ll arrange for the nursing support people to call around tomorrow to make sure you’re all doing fine.”  So Master Oh Waily did it the modern way.  Pain relief and let the body get on with it.

All went well through the week, Master Oh perked up and by Wednesday I was happy to not receive the friendly call from the nurse anymore – I was confident that he was now back to getting enough to drink.
Then Thursday night Ms Oh starts to feel a very unpleasant sensation at the back left of her throat and a dreaded thought crosses her mind… I was a chronic tonsillitis-getter as a child.  Friday comes around and no throat action, but by crikey the fever was here to stamp its foot.  I thought I was in for a very nasty dose of ‘flu’.  Fever, shakes, shivers, aches, and pains.  You name it, it came to visit me.   By the days end I had caved in and began taking Lemsip for the paracetamol.  This eased the fever a little, but it stayed for a day or so anyway.

Then came THE CHANGE.  No, no, not that change.
The glass throat.  You all know the one I’m talking about.  At least you will if you’ve ever had your tonsils do their darnedest to get your attention.  You can put absolutely anything in your mouth, including ice cream or a cup of tea, and what goes down your throat?  Shards of sharp, pointy glass.
And they linger, those pointy little buggers.  Stab, stab.  Stab, stab. Stab, stab.

My first thought?  I should go to the doctor and confirm what the heck was going on.
My second thought?  Unless I’m actually dying from this, s/he is going to tell me to go home and take some paracetamol (no codeine for the BF* sorority and probably no antibiotics either) and wait for it to sort itself out.  Why waste my time and money, since it may feel like I’m dying but I am not.

Even though my First Thought kept up a valiant attempt to convince me every time the paracetamol started to wear off, somewhere around the hour after taking it and with another minimum of three hours stretching out in front of me, my Second Thought eventually won the day.  I too, am now more or less over it.

Sounds good huh?  We’re off the Plague House list?

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Mr Oh, who has amassed a small fortune in drugs and paraphernalia attempting to get rid of the original but seriously expanded cough that started this falling over like dominoes spectacular, has quietly mentioned that perhaps he has a bit of a “throat thing” starting to happen too.

Run for cover people, run for cover !!

* for the non-parents… BF = breast-feeding

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