Four and a Dog

A blog about family life

Archive for the category “health”

A New Plaster

Several posts ago I wrote about Diva’s reaction to a plaster. Toady, a new plaster was required. Before you ask, no, she hasn’t been wearing the same plaster for the last few weeks. Diva likes to milk her injuries, but not even she is that committed. A new injury occurred this afternoon.

We were out for our usual walk with Bruiser in the buggy, Uncle M on the lead and Diva weaving in and out of trees, pedestrians and dog muck (pick it up you lazy dog owners!). Diva asked if she could run. She can, but she often falls over. Today was no exception. This time she acquired a small cut on her hand.

After a cuddle the sobbing did not ease off. In the end I promised that when we got home I would get out my medicine box, clean it and put a plaster on it. The sobbing ceased instantly. Diva marched back up the lane cradling her wounded hand in her other hand, whilst also carrying a stick (she collects a lot of sticks on our walks. And stones. I don’t know why. I can only presume that she’s building something).

Once back at the house, there were a few more theatrical sniffs for dramatic effect and then she eagerly waited for the medicine box.

Diva: Will you make it better, Mummy? It really, really hurts.
Mummy: I know, sweetheart. I have to clean it first.
Diva: Be very, very gentle, Mummy.
Mummy: I will try.
Diva: Oooo…that stings.
Mummy: I’m going to spray it with some antiseptic now so that it will get better, okay.?
Diva: Okay…oooo…that’s really, really cold. I don’t like that bit, Mummy.
Mummy: It’s okay. That bit is over now. I’m going to stick the plaster on next.
Diva: Can I have a big plaster, Mummy?
Mummy: Sure.
Diva: I won’t do that again, Mummy.
Mummy: What? Fall over?
Diva: Yes.
Mummy: Well you might, but that’s okay. It’s probably better if you try not to.
Diva: I won’t fall over ever again.
Mummy: Well I wish you lots of luck with that.

The rest of the evening has consisted of Diva ‘struggling’ to eat her food; have a bath; put her pyjamas on. She was very distressed when the plaster came off in the bath but calmed down when she realised it could be replaced with a new one.

I will be trying to convince her to take it off tomorrow so that it can dry out. I’m not liking my chances.

No Escape

It’s got me. I knew it would. The cold that has infected all of my family has now got it’s vicious little claws well and truly clamped on me. Uncle M is now the only one of us free from illness. Unfortunately, he is not particularly good at taking care of children. We did teach him to fetch nappies on command, but his lack of opposable thumbs has thwarted our attempts to get him to actually change the dratted things. Come on evolution, isn’t it time for family pets to have more uses?

So I did say that I would explain why I am an accomplished sufferer of Man Flu. My current circumstances have made this, unfortunately, very relevant.

I do not appreciate being ill of any kind. It makes me angry. I become very irritated with myself and the world around me. Being ill is rubbish. It means you can’t do all manner of things and makes it very difficult to enjoy the things that you can still do. On top of all that, it is painful and makes you incapable of rational thought or coherent speech. Everything shuts down and all I want to do is crawl in to my bed and wait for it to be over. I literally have arguments with my incapable body (in my head, out loud would be crazy) trying to convince myself to be better.

I am a rubbish patient. I don’t want lots of care and sympathy. I just want you to bring me an occasional drink and pills, and listen to me complain about why I hate being ill. I can not emphasise this enough, I am pathetic when I am ill. Colds are the absolute worst because they’re not even a proper illness. They’re just flu wannabes. They don’t allow you to just give up and go to bed. No, with a cold you have to keep going, carrying on in a miserable way, spreading your germs wherever you go. “Oh, it’s just a cold,” we say whilst sneezing our germs in each others faces.

Then, when you have children, they’re not going to let you just carry on. You also have to cook, entertain, comfort, cajole, discipline and never ever rest.

Hubby is currently away on a cruise ship talking to people about the aurora. Well played, sir. My poor parents are the ones left to deal with me and my children, colds and all. It’s a good job they already know what I’m like and have unending patience with my children.

Okay, I feel better after that whinge. Thank you for listening to me complain. Now, who is bringing me my pills and a drink? Make it a double.

Plaster Magic

Diva is not a particularly adventurous child, but she is two and therefore has a tendency to fall over quite a lot. Her legs often resemble a map of bruises, charting her various tumbles and bumps. However, she has only cut herself three times. Once she took a dive across the pavement whilst running and grazed her knees; once she missed a step and cut her lip; and yesterday she caught her thumb on a table.

Apparently, a small cut on the thumb is possibly the worst injury that could ever happen to a two year old girl. It required a few applications of magic cream, several magic kisses and had to be talked about, a lot.

After a night of thumb sucking, “the worst injury that could ever happen” was looking quite sore so Super Daddy came to the rescue and put a plaster on it. Well, did you know that a plaster is the best thing, ever? It is to Diva. I wish I’d known that before getting her a doll house for Christmas.

Diva loves going to her pre-school but every time we get her ready to go she declares, “I no want to go to Nursery anymore!” Not today. Today Diva couldn’t wait to go. Holding her thumb before her like a prized trophy, she marched through the front doors of Nursery and showed every single last person her amazing plaster. It wasn’t even a novelty plaster with cartoon characters or patterns on it, just a plain, everyday plaster. I have a feeling that she’s going to be asking for a new plaster every morning for a while. On the plus side, it may actually start to dissuade her from sucking her thumb.

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