Tuesday, March 25, 2008


Terrassée. This word has been rattling round my brain all day.

I'm not even sure I can provide an adequate translation: brought down, laid low. Saint Michel a terrassé the dragon. I was terrassée all day with a stomach flu that hit me at five o'clock in the morning. I will spare the Internet at large the details, but suffice it to say that I was curled up in a fetal position in bed unable to hold down even the water I forced myself to drink.

Even worse than just feeling miserable like I haven't since I was in labor, I was worried I'd lose my milk due to dehydration, and terrified le Petit would come down with the same thing and end up in the hospital.

What would I do without my mother-in-law, who thankfully had the day off today and came over to look after him? The poor Petit who didn't understand why Mommy couldn't play with him when he woke up after one of the best nights he's ever slept in his life, but a Grandma fix cheered him right up. What would I do without my oft-mentioned mommy friend who talked me down from my misery and anxiety? And my husband, who skipped his German class and came home early to take care of the little guy while I slept like a lump in our bed?

Once more I have to stand (if I could comfortably, that is) in awe of the French medical system. I called my doctor at nine-fifteen, he saw me at ten. And I was grateful to have a prescription-happy French doctor, for the list he gave me to take off to the pharmacy was nothing short of miraculous. Now I'm drinking flat ginger ale and things are starting to look up, but send some get-well thoughts my way anyway, and some stay-well thoughts for le Petit.


Inki said...

Ugh, that sucks. I hope you'll feel better soon! And I'm sending plenty of stay-well thoughts to your family!

Isabelle said...

Bon courage, it will be a bad memory very soon! (Too much chocolate during Easter maybe?)