It is usually difficult to tell when Jane is sick. She is such a trooper. I think she was born with the ability to discreetly blow her nose by herself. The only real sign is that she sleeps a little longer in the morning. This time, she's making a bit of noise. Which is understandable.
Her mouth is infected with several evil-looking ulcers (terrible cankerous giants). It hurts me to even think about them. Even a tiny sip of water leads to screaming and crying in genuine pain.
I made oatmeal this morning, as per usual. I'd hoped she'd be able to eat a bit, but no. She couldn't even look at it. She was, however, mighty interested in some of Erin's recent baking.
Jane: Can I have a cookie?
Erin: Oh, Janey. Chocolate-chip cookies are just about the most painful thing you can eat right now.
It's so true. Most of her ulcers are in her throat. Just imagine them being coated in buttery sugar and milk chocolate. Ugh.
Jane: PLLLLLEEEEASE, can I have a cookie?
We relented. She sat bolt upright at the table with a cookie in one hand, and a tall glass of cool water in the other.
She took a tiny bite. She strained every muscle in her neck, her eyes watering, her lower lip protruding. She took a sip of water. She strained again. Pain. Relief. Pain. Relief.
It took her 20 minutes to finish the cookie.
Erin: Was it worth it?
Jane: (eyes near tears, but mouth smiling) Yes. I'm going to lay down now.