The pool was empty at 5:00 PM. I quickly took my favorite lane. Mother and her 3 year old Daughter joined me in the pool. Mother had red hair pulled into an elastic, fair, freckled skin, and an overbite. Daughter was more blonde than red, and as cute as Shirley Temple. They were wearing similar color suites, navy and aqua. Mother’s mouth remained twisted into an easy smile.
I looked up and noticed them in the shallow end. The young child was submerged with her head dipped back so that, on tip toes, she could just manage to breath. It’s hard to describe, but it appeared that they were practicing rescue. Each turn, over and over, Mother would inch out a bit further, leaving Daughter to make her way to the pool’s edge. The child worked to stretch her arms and fingers, seeking out the security of the edge. Before long, the young child sputtered as though she inhaled water. Mother’s smile widened. She was pleased. Daughter did not look fearful, more like she accepted it and did not fuss. Daughter had no happy smiles, those belonged to Mother. It seems they are quite practiced at their game.
By now, there were other parents with children in the pool. No one seemed concerned or to notice. I considered going over to the lifeguard’s desk.
“That Mother is nearly drowning her Daughter,” I thought about saying.
But afterall, the lifeguard was within sight of this pair! Right then, I decided.
I must be crazy.
While at the pool today, I atypically struck up a conversation with a mother whose son recently joined the Navy. She was chattering away and slipped into the conversation how she had red blotches on her face “too” and it turned out to be merca. She quickly recommended the steam room to me as a way to treat and resolve this red skin problem. A question mark started to develop but I wasn’t quite sure where it would lead. I finished my swim and headed to the showers and changing room. After donning my street clothes I glanced into the mirror and noticed that my nose looked bright red in a triangular shape, much like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.
I hustled out to the parking lot and studied my nose further in my rearview mirror. “Strange” I thought. I happened to look down and noticed bright red marks also appearing on both arms. My mind raced to thoughts of the bottle of antihistamine still rattling around in my purse from a previous use. It seemed likely I was having an allergic reaction and I quickly downed one of the pills. I also realized that I was a quick drive away from the only emergency room on Cape Cod, but once I drove home, I would be heading in the opposite direction. I decided to then take my chances and drive home.
My second strategy was to phone my husband and let him know what was going on in case I soon became unable to talk. I calmly relayed my concerns and told him I would see him soon. I started to feel unwell on the drive and wondered if I should pull over. Just keep going and I did.
I arrived home and laid on the coach, elaborating on the details of how I had noticed the “hives” and perhaps I was reacting to the pool chemicals, etc. filling my husband with details should I become commatose.
As I was explaining, I put my hand over the red marks on my arms and noticed it felt hot to the touch. Hmm, as though sunburned. My husband asked if I had by any chance spent time outdoors today. Wa-wa-wa. I never spend time outdoors at work, but it just so happens that today, we did have a one-hour meeting at the outside table in full sun.