The exhausted dad: Paranoia as bad as the bug

Trust nothing. Question everything.

The smallest decisions can lead to major consequences, especially with a stomach virus running through the family.

“What’s the rumble in my tummy? Am I hungry? Or am I about to be very, very sick?”

Better only eat saltine crackers, just to be safe.

Last weekend, my youngest daughter complained of a stomachache. Within 30 minutes, she vomited on the floor as she ran to the bathroom. Was this an isolated incident or a precursor to a week of family misery?

Kids throw up. Sometimes it happens for purely physical reasons. A kid can drink a glass of water wrong and accidentally choke up a recent meal. Or it can be food poisoning or the latest norovirus ripping through the school population.

The 45 minutes following a throw-up is the most precarious. Is she done? Will she respond well to tummy medicine or some charcoal? Will she even be able to swallow a few sips of fluid without a repeat occurrence? You just don’t know until the stomach makes its intentions known.

Lucky for us, my daughter only threw up the one time. She rested for a couple hours then ate a normal dinner without incident. All seemed well… at least until I started to obsess over the details again.

Did she really gag on some water? She says she wasn’t drinking water at the time. Was it something she ate? The bread she used for her sandwich at school the day before technically expired five days ago. But we kept it in the fridge! And it smelled OK, right? Right!?

These thoughts will keep a parent up at night, especially when you start to think about all the interactions Patient Zero had with her five other family members prior to the incident. What if it was the norovirus? What if she knocked it out quick but remains an upchuck superspreader.

A day passes. Then another. Then another. All the kids go to school without incident.

The sun comes out. It’s basically spring! A season for new life. A season without quite as much illness. Maybe we’ll take a family walk by the lake this evening. Maybe we’ll go get frozen yogurt… with the toppings you put on yourself by… placing our hands on all the scoops and pinchers touched by the public. No. That’s going too far. We already dodged a bullet this week. Better just go buy a carton of ice cream and wipe the packaging off with 12 Lysol wipes.

Eventually, you start to forget about it. Yes, my daughter threw up. But the rest of us are safe.

Then Friday arrives. The four kids are in school, and my wife and I have a rare three-hour window of shared time off. A lunch date. Yes. Finally, we can go eat at a restaurant, together, without the kids, for the first time in… checks notes… the birth of my 11-year-old child?! No, that can’t be right. But it has been awhile.

We’re about to leave the house, and the phone rings. The school. Our oldest son has thrown up all over the classroom. He has made quite the scene. The school nurse expects us as soon as possible for immediate pickup.

Why did he throw up? Did he catch the bug from his sister? Did he catch it from someone at school? Did he eat that old bread? WHY DIDN’T I THROW IT AWAY SIX DAYS AGO?! Did he gag on some water? Will he throw up again before we get to the school? Will he throw up in the car? Will he THROW UP ON ME?!

My son threw up seven more times. He barely slept that night. He feels fine now, but what happens next? Who will lay just outside the bathroom holding the big metal mixing bowl/vomit collector? Why does my stomach hurt more with every word I type?

Nothing spreads quite like fear.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.