The nanny Diaries

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THE NANNY DIARIES

The warm glow of his Grover night-light greets me along with the whir of his Supersonic 2000 air filter.

The minute I step through his doorway my stomach drops --- he is not okay. He breathing is labored and his eyes are watering. I sit on the corner of his bed.

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm here." I put my hand on his forehead. It's boiling. The moment my fingers touch him he starts to whimper.

"It's okay. Grover, you're just real sick and I know it's yucky." But I don't know any more. His wheezing alarms me.

"I'm going to pick you up now, Grover." I reach arms under him, the cashmere wrap dropping to the floor. He starts to cry fully, the movement agitating him as I pull him up to me.

I go into automatic pilot, running through options. The pediatrician. The emergency room. Mom.

I carry him to the hall extension and lean against the wall for support as I fail. My mother answers on the second ring.

"Where are you? What's wrong?"

"Mom, I can't get into it, but I'm with Grayer and he's been sick with an ear infection and this cough and they've had him on antibiotics, but the cough keeps getting worse and I can't get a message through to Mrs. X because the receptionist says she's been in some sort of sensory deprivation tank all day and he can't seem to breathe and I don't know if I should take him to the hospital because his fever won't go down and I haven't slept in two nights and---"

"Let me hear him cough."

"What?"

"Put the phone to his mouth so he can cough." Her voice calm and steady. I hold the phone near Grayer's mouth and within a second he has erupted into a deep cough. I feel the vibrations of this effort where his chest is pressed to mine.

"Oh, God, Mom, I don't know what to---"

"Nanny, that's the croup. He has the croup. And you need to take a deep breath. You may not fall apart right now. Breathe with me, in---"

I focus on her voice, taking a deep breath in for Grayer and myself. "And out. Listen, he's okay. You are okay. He just has a lot of fluid in his chest. Where are you right now?"

"Seven twenty-one Park Avenue."

"No, where in the apartment?"

"In the hall."

"Is this a cordless phone?"

"No, she doesn't like the way they look." I can feel the panic start to well up again as he whimpers.

"Okay, I want you to go into his bedroom, turn on the shower so it's comfortably warm --- not too hot, just warm, and then sit on the side of the bathtub with him in your lap. Keep the door closed so it gets nice and steamy. Stay in there until he stops wheezing. You'll see the steam will help. His fever is trying to break and it will be down by morning. Everything is going to be just fine. Call back in an hour, okay ? I'll be waiting."

I feel somewhat soothed knowing that there is something I can do for him.

"Okay, Mom. I love you." I hang up and carry him back through the darkness to his bathroom.