There has been an outbreak of the mumps at the college where Kyle attends classes.
How could this happen? It’s not like Canada is a third-world country, or excessively poverty-stricken… I don’t know; I guess I just figured that I had enough to worry about, between my pregnant sister, setting up my new house, and learning how to drive in snow; catching the mumps wasn’t really high on my list of concerns until now.
I had my standard two doses of the MMR vaccine when I was younger, so I think I should be immune to the potentially-fatal disease. Kyle, on the other hand, did not. (I’m not saying this was an oversight on his parents’ behalf [I myself barely got my second dose of the shot in 2004, and only because it was required by the United States Government for me to get my overpriced passport so I could visit overpriced Europe]. Maybe the Canadians aren’t as strict about that sort of thing. [Maybe they should be].)
At any rate, it’s too late now. What’s done is done (or not done, in this case). Kyle and I went to the school yesterday to get him immunized with the MMR vaccine. A pamphlet the shot people handed out listed some potential side effects of the vaccine, and as luck would have it, Kyle woke up today complaining of most of them. He’s been throwing up all day; he’s been freezing cold and boiling hot; he has a fever and a headache and he says he’s sore all over. The worst part, though, is that we aren’t sure if it’s just a reaction to the vaccine, or if he really has the mumps. (The symptoms are the same for both scenarios–go figure.) Or, it could be that he just has the flu. I followed the pamphlet’s instructions and gave him a dose of Tylenol (Tylenol Cold, actually–just to be safe), but he’s since thrown up three more times, so I doubt it’s still in his system.
I myself haven’t showered in several days, what with toiling in this house all week, and nursing Kyle back to “health” all weekend. My hair is greasy. My face is greasy. My eyelids are greasy.
To top it all off, Kyle’s three front teeth fell out. Again. This happens every year or so, and I am used to it–but I think it must be awfully miserable to catch the mumps on one’s weekend, and not even have the pleasure of front teeth to take comfort in. His dentist is on holiday and won’t be back until Wednesday.
I just ran a lukewarm bath for Poor Kyle to soak, and he’s in there moaning away, sounding for all the world like the sad song of an orca. Humanized. Free Willy…
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