I woke to the news that my daughter has COVID-19.
Leihua is my oldest, and I am incredibly proud of her. Right now, I want to pamper her, hold her, and help her. I would if I were closer. This is what sucks about being a parent.
Your kid is sick, and you’re a 16-hours away. All you can do is pray and ask the Lord to heal her or pray that her symptoms don’t worsen. She’s gone through the rapid-testing and tested positive for it twice.
I don’t worry about things often. When I had it back in January and February, I wrapped up in blankets and tried to sweat it out. The first time wasn’t too bad, but that second time kicked my butt.
As soon as I found out I sent a message to my daughter filled with advice: “Wrap up! Granny always said starve a fever, feed a cold! I love you! I know that doesn’t help but it’s all I’ve got at 2 a.m.”
All in all, I feel useless. Like a handless individual at a dart throwing competition. I guess I should get off here, make some coffee, and try to find something to lighten my mind. Take care and I’ll write something later…