This is why I hate vaccinations.  This is why I delay them whenever possible.  This is why we’re at least six months behind on the AAP vaccination schedule. 

Dom reacts to all vaccinations the same way.  At the doctor’s, I’m faced with wails of pain when the shots are given, then a horrified, betrayed look on his face afterwards.  For several hours after the vaccinations, I’m treated to stubborn silence.  He hangs all over Daddy for the rest of the day while running away from me in tears. 

As if that weren’t bad enough, about six hours post-vaccination, the physical reaction starts.  It doesn’t matter what the shot was, or whether it was one, three, or eight vaccines (yes, they give that many on one day).  Six hours later, the fever starts. 

I don’t mean a slightly elevated temperature.  I mean a fever that will easily exceed 105 degrees, medicated or not.  Apparently, this is how Dom’s body handles viral invaders.  After a vaccination last year, we spent three of the following five nights in the ER, desperately trying to keep his fever below brain-frying level.  That’s not considered a vaccine reaction, though.  Yeah, I’m lost, too.

After shots, we alternate Motrin and Tylenol every three hours.  That’s the only way we can begin to fight the fever.  Of course, this means waking Dom up just when he’s finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and sobbing.  Once he’s awake, he’s awake, which means I’m awake, which means that the next few days around here will not be at all perky. 

By tomorrow night, you will find me drowsing on my sofa, wearing exactly what I’m wearing now, with an exhausted-but-not-able-to-sleep Dom on my chest watching television.  We will be surrounded by glasses of various juices and alcohol (mine, not his), tissues, thermometers, and pain relievers. 

If you come visit this week, the cover charge is very, very good chocolate.