The Dread and Primordial Terror of Parenthood.

There was and is a pestilence upon my house this weekend. A stomach flu has been making the rounds with savage and terrible speed through all of us. Day 1 it hit my 3 year old boy, and the sickness came and went uneventfully. He puked once or twice, was listless for a few hours, and then all his uncontainable energy and enthusiasm for living came back.
Just in time for the bug to knock my 6 year old daughter and I down. Again it hit unbelievably fast. We were on our way to my oldest daughter's basketball game. All of us felt fine. Upon arrival however Parker threw up and took to moaning and holding her stomach. We arranged a ride for my oldest with one of the other parents, and Janet took Parker home while I went in to work to help out over the lunch rush.
I felt great, but just as the lunch rush finished I started to feel nauseous, with horrible stomach pains.
I just managed to make it home to start enjoying my days off when it hit. Inside of an hour I went from healthy and happy to doubled over and puking.
It got bad people. Fever, fatigue, a lot of pain, for both my daughter and I. Today she was still feeling rough. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning at 10am. The blood vessels in her eyes had popped, leaving the whites of her eyes all red and pink. She was puking up all the water that I gave her. We have a rule around here that we follow with the little ones and stomach bugs. After 24 hours, if there's no improvement, we go to the doctor.
When your kids are this sick you start to fear for the worst. Most of the time a stomach bug is just a stomach bug, but occassionally these are the sort of viruses and bacteria that kill. Liver damage, kidney damage, brain damage, death.
For most of last night I slept on the floor beside Parker, and held her hair out of her face when she had to throw up, rubbed her back when she was crying and moaning. In between I'd run to the washroom and throw up myself.
I have a confession of sorts to make here. At about 4am I was dead tired, sick and in incredible pain, drifting in and out of consciousness. Parker woke up beside me, crying "Dad, I'm going to be sick again." and at that moment, I was feeling too sick myself to sit up.
"Parker, just put the bucket on the floor and hold your head back." I said, and I said it testily, although I did rub her back while she puked.
But it got me to thinking, that throughout history there have been plagues and epidemics that have levelled whole families, ebola, cholera, malaria, the bubonic plague. It got me to thinking about situations similar to mine, but where death is involved, where Moms and Dads are dying next to their dying children and too sick to help. It reminded me that I take too much for granted each day. Life is generally a beautiful thing, but there are moments where it's an absolute horror show.
Drew was the only one that hadn't been sick yet, and she just started throwing up. I've brought my blankets and pillows upstairs, and I'm going to help her through the night tonight. I know that the rest of us have made it through, and I'm pretty sure that she's going to make it through as well, so mind is a little more at ease than it was last night.
Let me tell you there is no fear like the fear of having a sick little girl that isn't getting better.