Sleepless nights once again.

FRENZY a Daniel Jones Story

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markkingtheauthor@gmail.com

I've been tired, very tired over the last couple of days, and it's not because of I been burning the midnight oil.

Last Thursday my son felt unwell at school and by Friday morning he woke up with a burning throat and a cough from hell. That evening we put him to bed as normal pumped up with children's medicine, and plenty of hugs, although these aren't much use when they wake up in pain and coughing. Throughout the night the good wife and myself had to rise from the warmth of a cosy bed during a cold British November night to sooth his pain.

By Saturday morning I was knackered, but the boy seemed to get a second wind especially when I suggested he gave football training a miss. 'No' he said, he claimed he felt well enough and off we went. It was a bright sunny day but it was a deceitful glow because there was a chill in air that would have made a penguin shiver, but this didn't concern him as he ran about the pitch with all his friends with nothing more than a T-shirt on.

I paid the price of not being more forceful in insisting that he wore a jacket while he played because during the night I was once again summered to his bed side on various occasions by his horrendous coughing fits. Although I must say that watching his celebrations when he scored both goals was a pleasure to watch.

So by Sunday morning I was even more tired than Saturday, and this time as the rain pored down outside I spent the day at home. That evening we took every step possible to insure a good nights sleep. Plenty of medicine, chest rub, hot water bottle, and pillars, plus a bed time story, and my son went off to the land of nod without a cough in sight.

But, and as I say there is always a but, Sunday turned out the worst night of the lot. He awoke at 2am choking and fighting for breath, and his cough sounded like someone who smoked sixty cigarettes a day. We got him back to sleep but at 3.30 he awoke again in a distressed state, and I got to him just in time to see him being sick over the edge of his bed. By 4am I had cleared things up and settled him back to sleep, but for the next two hours I laid in bed in a semi-terrified state.

Last year my Uncle died from pneumonia. It was totally unexpected, he had been suffering for a couple of days with what he thought was a cold. He didn't drink or smoke and said to his wife he was going for a lay down. When she went to wake him he was stone cold dead, drowned in his own phlegm.

This thought kept going round and round in my head, and I kept getting up to make sure my boy was OK. At six in the morning my son woke up coughing and I got up too. We went down stairs and watched his favourite cartoon channel, and I thanked God.

I never made it to the gym on Monday but took him to the Doctors instead. She confirmed he had some virus and all that could be done was to carry on doing what we had been doing, but to also keep him off school that day. So we spent the whole day together on the sofa, he watched the television while snuggling against me, and I wrote nearly two thirds of a chapter for my next book, Daniel Jones Doom.

All in all a stressful time, but when you think of the misery that so many families have to suffer through war, famine, abuse and, many others like the terrible weather that recently hit the far east, I'm just thankful for small troubles.

Regards
Mark.