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mastitis

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Calamity. Mari's come down with a bout mastitis, a painful infection of the milk glands and ducts. It caused a high fever, and Ken responded to the "off" taste of the milk by painfully biting his mother's nipple.

She called me from the clinic and I raced home to find her incapacitated on the floor. Ken, of course, was wailing and looking at his mum with worry. I tried calming Ken down, but he refused to snap out of it so I spoke to him sternly and he seemed to understand quickly that he wasn't the centre of attention at the moment.

I really appreciated that. Kenny, if you're reading this years from now know that even as a young lad of seven months age you knew when something was going on. And you knew when to shut up (something I've yet to learn apparently).

I wound up picking up my semi-delirious wife and putting her to bed. Then came back to deal with Ken. It was a long weekend for the whole family, but we came through with flying colours. It was great to be able to help out, but it also made me realize that I'm still in many ways useless. I can speak enough Japanese to chat with my barber but that's a far cry from understanding whatever a doctor might have to tell me, some day. I can forsee myself being asked to make an important decision, and not even knowing what the subject is. Not a happy situation.