Sweet, innocent granddaughter left trail of bacteria, infections

  I once heard a saying about grandchildren: Play with them, spoil them, send them home. Add a phrase to all of that – report to the urgent care clinic.

   Our glorious Christmas holiday began with such promise. Our daughter Claire and her husband Brian arrived with Wesley James, 5, and Vivian Grace, almost 3.

   The house abounded with Christmas decorations and brightly wrapped gifts, stories were read, breakfast pancakes steamed on the griddle, Legos were assembled, and I lost every game of Candy Land. Imagine a grandfather’s luck worse than the Cleveland Guardians’ World Series drought (1948).

   You never tire of a toddler locking her big brown eyes on your own, flashing a killer smile, raising her arms and commanding “up.’’ Within minutes after snuggling onto my lap, her excitement over the Animals of Farmer Jones was abandoned for a spontaneous afternoon nap. You can ignore the runny nose, the faint, raspy snoring, and the risk of catching her cold, but this was heaven for two hours!

    Two days later, with Viv suffering from an ear infection and conjunctivitis (pink eye), she crawled back onto my lap and soon the book folded, the head nodded and the nap began. Two more hours snuggled against her grandpa’s chest. These are blessings you can’t turn down.

   But to quote my late mother, “You can’t expect to dance all night and not pay the fiddler.’’

  Her germs stayed in Rochester, but sweet little Vivian headed back to Reading, Pa. Perhaps I should edit that last sentence to sweet little Typhoid Vivian.

   You remember Typhoid Mary from the history books. Mary Mallon was an Irish emigrant who cooked for families around New York City in the early 1900s. Wherever she cooked, families fell ill with typhoid fever. She was identified as an asymptomatic carrier of the bacteria that causes typhoid.

   Vivian Grace’s only connection is that she is half Irish. But in her wake, she left her grandparents mired in the waiting room at the urgent care clinic for 2½ hours.

  Children are walking Petri dishes. When they reach the infectious stage, they resemble blast furnaces. Grandpa already was battling a sinus infection when he woke up with a yellow crust on both eyelids. It was a sure sign of pink eye. My swollen eyes were teary, burned and itched, and cringed in the sunshine. Innocent Conjuctivitis Vivian.

   “The sinus stuff needs time to pass,’’ said the physician’s assistant. “That pink eye is another story. You’re going to need drops. And you shouldn’t touch your eyes or anything else. It spreads like wildfire. You’ll need to quarantine yourself.’’

   Great. That immediately confirmed my sphere of martyrdom. Our son, the movie buff, was visiting from Los Angeles, but we couldn’t go out with Liam for a meal or movie. Shouldn’t go to the grocery store. No shooting at the YMCA. Take yourself out of the morning basketball game on Friday. Saturday too. Cabin fever set in.

  My old golf partner and basketball assigner, Jim Gertner, playfully twisted the knife in my wounded ego.

   “Hey Pinky, I’ve got games for you to ref.’’

    “Jim, I can’t see much right now, but that is typical for me.’’

     “Was there a grandparents’ express line at urgent care?’’

   Mary’s turn at urgent care followed mine. She was coughing so hard in Rochester she could signal those lakers anchored in the St. Lawrence Seaway. Bronchitis, the nurse practitioner ruled.

  She also tested Mary for Covid, RSV and flu.

  “I just got my results,’’ she announced. “I’m … (bone-rattling cough followed by two more) … negative.’’

  I routinely changed the lyrics of Groucho Marx’s “Lydia the Tattooed Lady’’ to “Vivian The Tattooed Lady’’ whenever I sang to her. Viv doesn’t understand what Grandpa is crooning about, but she enjoys the melody.

Vivian, oh Vivian, say have you met Vivian?
Vivian, the Typhoid Toddler
She has eyes that folks adore so
And runny nose that I can’t ignore so

  She is safely home while we mere grandparents suffer from self-quarantined cabin fever. I try not to touch my eyes, but they itch and burn. That requires constant handwashing.

   With Katie and Liam home, evenings call for a family dominoes game. To stop the spread of pink eye and Mary’s ailments, we wear disposable gloves. The games resemble family night with the Blue Man Group.

   Vivian already is exonerated. When we called after Christmas, we melted after “hi Grandpa; hi Grandma.’’

  Our response: “When can you come to visit again?’’

            Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/