… and what a damp squib it ended up being!
After more than a month of being ill I felt woefully unprepared for Christmas and therefore spend the last few days running round like a mad woman trying to sort everything and make sure I'd done all the practical stuff like send cards, buy gifts, wrap them and pick up the pre-ordered Christmas cake and other food bits that my mum had asked me to provide. All was going well when we piled in the car to head up north and apart from forgetting to pack my slippers it seemed like we'd pulled it off without incident. How wrong I was.
On Christmas Eve Master C started to be a bit whingey. Nothing that unusual there, but then it escalated to him not sleeping for more than an hour at a time that night and by Christmas Day he spend much of it screaming and attached to me. He was also drooling like someone had installed a tap inside his mouth so we instantly though that he was "just" teething and started dosing him with Calpol and baby neurofen to help with the pain. It didn't help. Then a rash appeared too. Always a sign something's not quite right.
He'd fluctuate between being really clingy to suddenly having a spurt of energy and running round chasing LMC whilst laughing hysterically. He was eating (mainly chocolate but still it was Christmas day) and drinking plenty so it certainly didn't feel like an out of hours GPs job and I certainly didn't think trying out the local hospital's childrens A&E services would be worthwhile. Whilst all this was going on though LMC was thoroughly enjoying the day and the fact that she's made it on to Father Christmas' "good list". She received some great presents and loved spending time with her Granny, Auntie and Uncle too. Just a shame I missed her opening all the things I'd spent time choosing and buying. That made me a bit sad. Along with the fact that I missed most of Christmas dinner as I was busying trying to settle Master C.
Another sleepless night followed. Then a 120 mile drive south (hard work when you've only had 6 hours sleep in the previous 50+ hours) and a day at another family member's house where again he cried lots and refused to be put down for much of it. A third night where he refused to sleep at all before 3am and only then for an hour at a time meant that I was there on the phone when our GPs re-opened at 8am on the 27th December. We're lucky enough to have an amazing local doctors' surgery that always has same day appointments (the first we were offered being just 45 minutes later!) and Master C was in to see a GP later that morning.
It seems that he had a nasty dose of tonsillitis. Only spotted when he finally let the Doctor look inside his mouth as he wasn't displaying a fever at all which most people do when they have something like that. Modern medicine being as amazing as it is meant that 24 hours and 4 doses of anti-biotics later he was much more like his old self again. He's not perfect yet, but like a changed child. The fact that we've all now managed some sleep also certainly helps matters and I love feeling human again.
So here I sit on the 29th December and I actually feel ready to start Christmas now. Shame it's all over with. Maybe I should just put all this energy into getting ahead of the game for next year. Or I could just reach for another chocolate and catch up on some of the festive TV that I missed…