I hate trying to decide whether one of the kids is sick enough to warrant a trip to the doctor. On the one hand I want to wait and see if the symptoms go away without intervention; on the other hand I'm convinced that the symptoms will get much, much worse unless someone with medical training examines the child right away. On the one hand I don't need a doctor to tell me that yes, she has a fever and needs some Tylenol. On the other hand I need reassurance that yes, she has a fever but in a few days she'll be okay. And now I've run out of hands.
So Phoebe seemed legitimately, need-a-doctor sick on Saturday morning; she'd been running a high fever since the night before. Since it was Saturday, I had to take her to Urgent Care (double the co-pay, but half the wait). On the one hand (here I go again with the hands! Stop me!) the doctor I got was a real jerk. He took, I'm not lying, three cell-phone calls from his wife while he was examining Phoebe. In fact he had just checked her ears and said, "Well, it's not an ear infection, so it's probably --" when his phone rang and he left the room to jabber to his wife. Talk about your cliffhangers. It's probably what? Meningitis? Pleurisy? Bird flu?
No no, it was a sore throat. (And the doctor's wife had thrown her back out and his son had a soccer game and his babysitter had quit and I was oh so sympathetic but I also had a sick baby on my lap, so turn off your phone.) Just a virus, nothing to do but wait it out. And here's the other hand about the doctor -- he was refreshingly specific about what I could expect. Fever for 48-72 hours, no appetite, no sleep, very fussy and clingy. Next!
He was absolutely right. Phoebe stayed on my lap for all of Saturday and most of yesterday (she did perk up a little bit last night). And if I'd had only the one child, I might have enjoyed it just a little bit. Of course I don't want her to suffer, but there is something sweet about a little person -- who is usually running around destroying your home -- all cuddled up and sleepy on your lap. I could've read a book! Or watched a whole movie on TV! But of course I don't have only the one child, I have another child, and Mallory was not thrilled with the devoting-the-entire-weekend-to-nurturing-Phoebe agenda. She wanted to go to the park, or to do a project (oh the many projects the child has cooking), or to play with her friends. Sorry Mallory, next weekend we'll make it up to you. Or maybe you'll get sick next weekend! One never knows.
Drat. Just as I'm sitting here writing this, my mother-in-law called to tell me that Phoebe has a fever again. This is outside the 72-hour window promised by the doctor and I'm back at square one. Do I take her back in? Do I wait it out? Is it pleurisy after all? Stay tuned!
ART for the Day
Mallory: Mommy, how aged are you?
Me: I'm 34.
Mallory. Wow. That's a lot of money!
So Phoebe seemed legitimately, need-a-doctor sick on Saturday morning; she'd been running a high fever since the night before. Since it was Saturday, I had to take her to Urgent Care (double the co-pay, but half the wait). On the one hand (here I go again with the hands! Stop me!) the doctor I got was a real jerk. He took, I'm not lying, three cell-phone calls from his wife while he was examining Phoebe. In fact he had just checked her ears and said, "Well, it's not an ear infection, so it's probably --" when his phone rang and he left the room to jabber to his wife. Talk about your cliffhangers. It's probably what? Meningitis? Pleurisy? Bird flu?
No no, it was a sore throat. (And the doctor's wife had thrown her back out and his son had a soccer game and his babysitter had quit and I was oh so sympathetic but I also had a sick baby on my lap, so turn off your phone.) Just a virus, nothing to do but wait it out. And here's the other hand about the doctor -- he was refreshingly specific about what I could expect. Fever for 48-72 hours, no appetite, no sleep, very fussy and clingy. Next!
He was absolutely right. Phoebe stayed on my lap for all of Saturday and most of yesterday (she did perk up a little bit last night). And if I'd had only the one child, I might have enjoyed it just a little bit. Of course I don't want her to suffer, but there is something sweet about a little person -- who is usually running around destroying your home -- all cuddled up and sleepy on your lap. I could've read a book! Or watched a whole movie on TV! But of course I don't have only the one child, I have another child, and Mallory was not thrilled with the devoting-the-entire-weekend-to-nurturing-Phoebe agenda. She wanted to go to the park, or to do a project (oh the many projects the child has cooking), or to play with her friends. Sorry Mallory, next weekend we'll make it up to you. Or maybe you'll get sick next weekend! One never knows.
Drat. Just as I'm sitting here writing this, my mother-in-law called to tell me that Phoebe has a fever again. This is outside the 72-hour window promised by the doctor and I'm back at square one. Do I take her back in? Do I wait it out? Is it pleurisy after all? Stay tuned!
ART for the Day
Mallory: Mommy, how aged are you?
Me: I'm 34.
Mallory. Wow. That's a lot of money!
Comments
Aimee
ps-I signed up for Beta Blogger because it is supposed to be faster, but it won't let me comment on a non-beta blog. So I have to be anonymous until that feature comes available (soon it says. yeah, yeah)
I would try the Tylenol again and give it another day. Is she getting enough fluids?
(I'm not crazy and poking in your business- I'm a nurse.)
Holly