We’re running a little infirmary here in Colorado. On Monday, I took the boys to see the Molly Kathleen, an old gold mine, open for tours. The tour packs you like sardines in a tiny, tiny elevator and drops you 1000 feet underground, and – new since the last time I was there some 15 years ago – they now show mine equipment in operation. Benjamin was a bit off all morning, but he topped it off halfway through the tour when he raised his hand and said, “Excuse me – I feel sick” and then proceeded to puke all over the floor of the mine. We were ushered out immediately, with a special non-sardine-like elevator ride to the top… and I’m pretty sure the other people on the tour were horrified or nauseated…
And as we arrived home, the phone was ringing. Seems Annika contracted the virus running rampant through camp, an Influenza Type A, likely swine flu. She had a fever, and was spending the night in the nurse’s cabin... but she wasn’t lonely. Seems this flu is spreading like wildfire through camps across the US, bringing 3-5 days of fever, and then leaving its victims with the equivalent of a nasty cold. Annika had the company of 4 or 5 others who also spent the night, and the nurse was visited by 20-30 other campers throughout the day. By the next morning, she was ready to come home early. A Tuesday pick-up versus a Thursday pick-up (planned) seemed like a good idea, since the likely prognosis was no activities and her last days in the nurse’s cabin. So, Tuesday morning, Christopher, a puking Benjamin and I set out to pick up Annika and stock up on Junior Motrin. Her fever topped out Tuesday night at 102.9 F, the highest any of my children have ever had, which sent me scrambling to the internet at 3:30 am… but the Motrin did its job, and we’re back in the 100-ish range.
How many more of us will end up with the flu (or the stomach bug) remains to be seen, but we feel a bit like a quarantine post here in the mountains.
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