Agoraphobia

Day 93 (Kim Gets Sick)

A nasty strain of the stomach flu had been circulating since everyone moved into the Main House. First one person would get it, then the next. Roxanne (our resident nurse) gave each the same advice: "Get plenty of rest, drink plenty of fluids, and use a leak-proof bucket to vomit in."

By the ninety-third day, most people had been infected and recovered. But no one suffered more than Beth's seven-year-old daughter, Kim. She vomited all day and night.

By morning, Roxanne was so concerned, she woke Uncle Peter and me a couple hours early for an emergency meeting in the living room. Also in attendance were Mom, Dad, and Grandpa Kevin. Uncle Peter's daughter (radio talk-show co-host, Sarah) and her best friend (newspaper tycoon, Jack) were in the living room, too; they both had woken up early and were reading. Beth was looking after Kim.

"She has vomited so much, she's become dangerously dehydrated," reported Roxanne, looking tired. "Leslie and I have been giving Kim lots of water, but she's not keeping much down."

"The Pepto-Bismol didn't help?" asked Dad.

"She just threw it up." snapped Roxanne, rubbing her temples in frustration.

"If this was before the peak, what would you do?" asked Grandpa Kevin.

"Send her to the hospital for an IV."

"Could you administer an IV if Peter gets the equipment?"

"Yes. And that would delay the dehydration. But, eventually, excessive vomiting will tear the lining of her esophagus. That could be fatal. At some point, we need to stop the nausea itself."

"Is there a non-oral medicine she can take?" asked Dad.

"Yes, marijuana. Chemotherapy patients often use marijuana to stop extreme nausea."

(HISTORICAL NOTE: At one time marijuana was legal in Illinois and Missouri. But four years prior to the peak a wave of conservative ideology cast a long dark shadow over the land and marijuana was made illegal once more. The penalties for dealing and growing were harsher than ever. As a result, marijuana became expensive and was driven far underground.)

"But would Beth approve of marijuana treatments for her daughter?"

"We can deal with that later," shrugged Uncle Peter.

"Do any of us even know where to get marijuana?" asked Mom. "Jerry and I haven't smoked in a long time, and our 'source' moved away a month before the peak."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head at hearing that. I drew breath to tell a stupid joke, then remembered myself and kept quiet. That was not the time.

"So does anyone here know where we can find some marijuana?" asked Uncle Peter.

We all looked at each other dumbly.

"I know where," volunteered Uncle Peter's eleven-year-old daughter readily. We all turned to stare at her. "Jack heard it from his neighbor."

All eyes fell on twelve-year-old Jack. He froze like a deer in headlights. Sarah enjoyed the spotlight. Jack did not. "It was just a rumor," he shrugged.

"Spill the tea, Jack," I prodded. "This is important."

"My neighbor's big brother said Officer Hal grew marijuana at home in his closet with a grow lamp and hydroponics kit."

"How did your neighbor's brother find that out?" asked Uncle Peter.

"I don't know. But I did see Officer Hal and him talking once."