Another sleepless one.
My little lady is still itchy. Chicken pox sores can get itchier as they scab over and heal. On top of it she has a bad chest. Autumn seems to aggravate her asthma.
So it was an itchy scratchy coughy night.
She was restless and full of chat. A full audit of all scabs was conducted at 1 am. Detailed status updates of each chicken pox scab were divulged. If it were a subject it would be called “scab evolution”; one which documents the changes in size, itchiness and attachment of each scab.
Estimated scab falling off dates were given. “That one is half attached, I think it will fall off tomorrow” she pointed to one on her neck.
By 2am I’d found the bottle of medicine to help with the itch, only a few drops left. I gave her the inhalers to open up the airways and stop the coughing. All was quiet. Until
“Mam, I can’t sleep”
“I know love, the itch and the coughing will stop soon”
“No, not that”
“There’s a man in the room. An old man with a stick. Right over there”
And with that she nodded off leaving me feeling wimpier than ever with the bejaysus scared out of me..