Breathing with the Panda

Thank you all for your kind words and wishes yesterday, both here and on Facebook, and for all the generous offers of George of the Jungle—I’ll let you know.

Sunny and I are fine now, or at least ambulatory and of normal temperature, and for the most part have stopped coughing mauve and chartreuse.

But, as some of you heard and some deduced, Janie has pneumonia.

Not a mild case, either—by the time the doctor saw her, she was at fifty-percent oxygen and her parents were at an eighty-five percent guilt/worry mix.  A few hours and a breathing treatment later, she and my husband came home with a vast assortment of meds and this guy:

She named him Po and breathed with him  for fifteen minutes every three hours from six yesterday evening to six this morning—thank God for Watson, who took care of the midnight and 3am sessions* so my husband and I wouldn’t be total zombies this morning.

Janie started out with the mouthpiece you can sort of see in the photo, but soon switched to the facemask with the elastic band, since the medicine makes her so jittery, she can’t hold onto the reservoir part—a fact that damn near broke down her mother.**

In fact, all the meds make her jumpy and intense and holy cow awake, which meant that telling her to sleep between Panda visits was a complete joke.  When I checked on her one last time before I went to bed, I could almost hear her buzzing under the covers.  But she was already breathing as if it was a normal activity instead of forced labor, which made up for a lot.

And she was in good humor this morning—for the twenty minutes I watched her through her mask, before she brushed her teeth and fell asleep on the couch, twitching like a dreaming puppy.

Wonder how she’ll feel when I arrive home with a week’s worth of school assignments for her tonight?

Is it wrong to hope that she’s too weak to struggle?

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*Seriously, lady:  you, me, the new Russell Crowe movie—or just pick one —and as many concession items as you can stand.  Or the Millenium Falcon bottle opener—your choice.

**Though we soon found that rubbing her back soothed both of us.