JulieLeung.com: a life told in tidepools

I kneel on the floor and hold the cup up to her lips. The sleeping beauty blinks, realizing I have come to help her. I brush the tresses away from her face and cradle her head with one hand. The girl drinks drop by drop. I watch the elixir disappear, hoping the amethyst liquid will work magic and free her from the feverish spell.

She’s a sick princess, my daughter. As I bring her medicine, I imagine we are living a fairy tale. She’s a sleeping beauty enchanted by a fever, and I hope to find the potion that will bring her back to life. Each night I wake her, kneeling on the carpet, offering her yet another dose of Motrin or Tylenol. Perhaps these red and purple concoctions are indeed made of jewels; their prices are costly. But I would pay anything to be able to retrieve my daughter from this place where she has been for four days, another land where she has been taken captive in body and spirit.

My poor daughter also suffers from bloody noses when her body becomes overheated. So she has been having eruptions. Yesterday I lay on the floor with her in my lap, my hand pressing on her nose. Somehow she seems nearly as long as I am, her feet beside mine. I felt like a mother ship carrying cargo and I wanted to ferry her to safety. I wish I could take her somewhere but instead I am left pinching her nostrils and praying from the bathroom floor.

Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on the spinning wheel and this girl had her finger pricked at the pediatrician’s office yesterday. She was brave, beyond herself, especially given her weakness. Thanks to her cooperation, the doctor was able to conclude that we do not have the flu, at least either of the strains in the vaccine. I am left with an arsenal of bottles, bubble gum pink Motrin, cherry Tylenol and grape Triaminic, as my weapons to fight the battle; it is an unfair war and the other side seems to be winning, flaunting its victory in her visage.

In the fairy tale, Sleeping Beauty wakes when a prince kisses her. My daughter is too young for such a solution. But I will do what I can to care for her. As I show her affection, from Triaminic to tissues to popsicles, I pray somehow she will be restored and set free. Tonight she was exhausted almost to tears and so was I. I hope a Prince does come to rescue her, coming from a land faraway with his glory and might, because I am realizing how little I can do for her.

In the meantime I continue to bring her jewel-colored liquids in the middle of the night, watching the drops and wiping the drips. I wait for her healing. I wait until she can wear her jewels again.