I was going to bring my daughter to a basketball game this week.
She got sick that morning, with what we thought was the stomach flu.
(It was norovirus. We didn't know that yet.)1
She sadly couldn't go.
None of the rest of us showed any symptoms, so we figured we were all okay.
So I took my son.
We rode the MAX (Portland’s light rail system) to the stadium. It was fun.
The game started, my kid got tired.
He laid down on my lap. I thought nothing of it. The game started around the time he usually gets ready for bed. I figured he'd be a little tired during the game.
He laid on my lap for about 15 minutes, suddenly finding his energy when Blaze2 walked by.
He and my mom got to meet Blaze. Highlight of the game for him.
Okay, let's be real, highlight of the game for both of them.
About five minutes after meeting Blaze, he turns to me and says “Dad, my tummy hurts.”
Which is exactly what my daughter said a short time before the sickness got violent.
I take him to the bathroom, he throws up. Thankfully we made it there in time.
We say goodbye to my parents and head to the MAX. I tell my kid to immediately tell me if his tummy hurts again. Trains come every fifteen minutes, so we can step off the train so he can throw up, and get on another train shortly after.
After about three stops, he tells me his tummy hurts.
We’re standing outside. His tummy hurts, but he doesn't feel like throwing up. But he's shivering like crazy. He has a giant puffy blue coat, but it's not enough. The temperature outside is around 40 degrees, but with wind, my weather app says it feels like 31.
I ask if he needs another coat and he says yes, so I put my hoodie over him too.
We're about 5 minutes into the 15 minute wait between trains, and I'm in a t-shirt in air that feels like below freezing.
I notice myself start to pray.
I haven't prayed for very personal things in a long time. Honestly, until this moment at the MAX stop, I didn't even realize that was the case.
But under my breath, I'm repeating a kind of strange prayer.
“God, if you really are there, if you really do exist, I just want to get my kid home.”
I repeated that for the next ten minutes, while trying to shield him from the wind with my body.
As the MAX starts to pull up, he says, “I'm going to throw up.”
I turn on my calm dad voice and tell him it's going to be fine as I help him lean over and vomit.
I tell him I'm proud of him as I watch the train leave and contemplate standing at this stop for another fifteen minutes.
About 25 minutes into our fifteen minute stop, some houseless folks walk toward us to catch the next train. It occurs to me that all day and night, these folks feel the kind of cold that I'm currently experiencing.
We get on the train.
We make it home.
I help the kid through the terrible night of vomiting.
Until I get it myself a few hours later.
Luckily, my wife is there to take over.
I spend the next few hours lying on the bathroom floor.
I prayed a different kind of prayer for the rest of the night.
Something along the lines of “God, it hurts so much. Please just kill me now.”
I don't know if it was God that answered my first prayer, or if we were just lucky to make it back.
I'm definitely glad God didn't answer the second prayer.
That's the post this week. Still sick in bed. I tried to think of something meaningful to talk about, but nothing was coming.
This is my second time having norovirus. The first was around a decade ago. That first time with norovirus rivals the time I had kidney stones as being the worst I've ever felt. Norovirus is bad, kids. 0/10 do not recommend.
Yep, the Portland Trail Blazers mascot is “Blaze.” Yes, he's some kind of a wolf. No, I don't know why.
You are quite the Dad! Get better soon buddy!
❤️🩹