There is a reason I bring this up, you will see. Sadly, I am home this week, banned from going to my clinical for nursing because I have contracted what normally only babies get, roseola. I woke up on Sunday mornings with a terrible rash on my face, neck, and arms. I thought at first it was an allergic reaction to something and would clear up but sadly when I awoke on Monday with a 101 fever and the spread of the rash I knew medical intervention was necessary.
I am feeling much better today. Temperature is 98.9, so we're nearly normal, and the rash is practically gone. Roseola is caused by a viral infection. There is no treatment for it but to let it run its course. The nice doctor at the ER gave me ibuprofen and some benadryl and said I would feel better soon; He was right.
Leave it to me to contract an illness that normally babies and toddlers are afflicted with. Seriously, I can't believe it even now. The doctor looked shocked when he looked at the severity and the type of the rash. Thank God school has been super nice about this matter. Their understanding has relieved a lot of my tension. I don't want anything to jeopardize my education tract, not after I have gone through so much so far to get here now; I will not be deterred off my course.
In Dirty Dancing, the main character is nicknamed Baby and I got to thinking as I was lying in bed dazed from fever with my baby illness - I'm still a baby in many ways. I think some of us are forced to grow up in many ways before we should have had to and allowed to delaying growing up in many ways we should have by now. We all have our burdens to carry and experiences thrust upon us. They say growing up is hard to do and I think our generation is experiencing that problem in a way no other before it has. When college is recommended even demanded, but graduation often offers nothing but huge debt and minimum wage employment, when health care is a privilege for the few and not a right for the many, when the cost of living exceeds what one can earn - growing up is exceedingly hard for my generation. I don't see how that will improve.
My Granny nursed me back to health. With my blotchy spots, fever and overall malaise, I felt like a little girl again. I remember when I was back in second grade with the chicken pox and Granny again was the one who took care of me, waited on me, tended me, fussed over me - loved me.
Perhaps my affliction with my baby illness was given for my renewal of mind and perspective. May our maturity match our age and may our age never dull our childlike enthusiasm, hope, and capacity for innocence.
Ponder child that it's time to mature...
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