You Shady Rooster, You

Sunday morning, after getting Horse Shot #5, we began decorating our tree.
Then Thomas took the girls out to the Christmas village (you know, Trampoline and all that, you've seen this place before and before each year at Xmas). Here's Estelle running thru the bouncy house with some other girl behind...
Our friend Ludovic was also there with Eva and Louise. Louise and Léna had fun climbing around:
Thomas' vertigo prevented him from going up on "La Grande Roue" = the big wheel - ferris wheel. So Lud went up with Estelle and Louise - whilst Eva and Léna stayed on firm ground with Thomas.
Above: Lud looking over from his ferris wheel cabin. below: fun photos in the holiday village:
Léna and Eva (and Rudolph)? You can't tell in this shot but Eva is even a bit older than Estelle!
This whole village thing is a 10 minute walk from our apartment.
Later that afternoon: Léna having fun with me.And we finished decorating our little tree!Some serious sketching by Thomas so Estelle could explain some of the rides to me.
About 30 minutes after I took this photo above, the nurse came to give me Horse Shot #6 and it proved to be: "the straw that broke the camel's back". All I can say is the whole experience was ugly, haunting, and it's gonna be awhile before I shake some of the images and sounds from my memory. Now I am home, healing, praying that a fever doesn't return. Follow ups tomorrow with my GP and next week at the hospital. Ludovic didn't know when he was up on that ferris wheel that he'd be seeing us again, sitting in our apartment from 9 p.m. until 3:30 a.m.
Meanwhile: CALL IN THE CALVARY:
Andrée and Guy got the phone call Monday a.m. that I was hospitalized and arrived the next day by train. Thank God.
After all, there was playdough to examine. Games to be played.
Is that a plane or a whale?
Books to be read.
Yesterday Papy & Manou got Estelle to dance, piano and the pool while I coughed my way around the apartment, leaning against the wall sometimes after a particularly bad episode of coughing, packing the girls suitcases, making arrangements. This morning, before leaving for work, Daddy said goodbye over breakfast as the girls who then got ready to hit the train with Andrée & Guy.
Look at that cutie.
And so here we are, Thomas and I, childless in the days before Christmas, me too weak to do a damn thing and praying I don't pull a fever and get dragged back into the infections ward.
For those who care to read the details of "what the heck do you HAVE, Julie?", read on, otherwise, click out of the blog!
The specialists in the hospital think maybe it has been a variation or a strain of whooping cough underneath ("coqueluche" in French, which, amongst many etymologies, could be loosely translated as disreputable or drifty rooster, cause you sound like a rooster gone wrong. Or it has something to do with oyster shells - coquille - or something to do with ladies white hats from 3 centuries ago, no one agrees).
This whooping cough variation may have been masked by the pleurisy and "misdiagnosed" as pneumonia. If they had "caught" as whooping cough in time, the antibiotics would have been different. Now it is "too late" to prescribe anything because if it is truly whooping cough, the worst is over and treatment would be superfluous. Or, it's not that at all, and was always viral, never bacterial, which explains the fact that 6 weeks and 4 treatments of antibiotics did nothing. Despite multiple blood work and urine analysis, plus samples of all the crap I cough up, the results are skewed because I have had so many meds in me, most notably Horse Shots # 1-6, the last of which made me so sick that Thomas had to call the ambulance. The hospital doctors all think that the girls having both been sick quite a bit since late September indicate it is something they gave me which nestled into me as I was weakened from working a lot more in Oct & Nov then I have in many years. The doctors also question the judgement of the pulmonologist who prescribed 20 Horse Shots because they stated that medicine should never be administered for so long, and certainly not to someone not under hospital surveillance, nor someone who had already had so many antibiotics with no success. I don't know what to think.
One great thing: the Chief of Infection complemented me and said "you must be one tough cookie to have held out until 6 shots, you've got one tough robust system". They could not believe that with the endless antibiotic treatments i had had I never had an upset stomach until Horse #6!
When they let me out, they had just drawn blood one last time to test for whooping cough, which takes 3 days. I will have more blood drawn but must wait until Monday, as the Dr. wants a full week to go by to let the meds get out of my system. Back to the hospital Weds for probably more CAT scans and God willing will be given the green light to get on the train Friday with Thomas to join our children, and celebrate Christmas, and put this ALL BEHIND ME.
I can't believe when I see this post from Nov 2 when I jokingly wrote:
"Things seemed shaky yesterday - too much to just attribute to too much Halloween fun the night before. This morning I called the Doc and went in - fever and all. He listened to my lungs and slapped me on antibiotics for whatever's going on there."
6+ weeks later, we're all still wondering, just what is going on in there. If someone had told me then...
A hard part of all this, especially during my hospital stay which I can only describe as temporarily traumatizing, was that I frequently found myself thinking of my father, and his suffering, and him probably secretly always wondering when, or if, he would get better. I know I WILL get better, it's just a matter of how long it will take. When I think of what my father faced, it gives me pause.