My daughter has been sick for days. No, don’t feel sorry for her. It hasn’t slowed her down a bit. But she’s got a cold and a cough and it’s been hanging on for what seems like months. Even though her nose is running, she’s coughing like crazy and she ran a fever all weekend, she’s still the cutest little sick person you’ve ever seen. She’s only three and she already realizes that she can get Mommy to do just about anything with a sniffle and a smile.Anyway, we could have handled the cold, but her fever brought us to the doctor this morning.
Going to the doctor is always a test of your parenting skills in one way or another. It’s a constant guessing game of whether your child is really sick enough to go; and we’ve all found out the hard way that it’s either a little embarrassing or a little frustrating when the doctor sends you home with only a pat and a smile. Doctors must see a hundred of us a day, and who knows how many are turned away empty handed. We all file into the little cold rooms with our sniffling children, secretly hoping for an ear infection so that we can win that prize of all prizes: the antibiotic prescription.
It used to be that antibiotics were handed out like candy. Got a sniffle? Here’s some Amoxicillin. Sore throat? Take a teaspoon of this every night before bed, and you’ll be good as new. But then they started having to dole out stronger and stronger medications to kill off the super-viruses that were evolving due to over-medicating the small stuff. Now it seems only two things can get you the antibiotic prize: an ear infection or strep throat. Neither are fun for your child of course, but without them the common cold and cough has to run it’s own course.
I bring you back to this Friday. We’ve all taken our kids to the doctor on a Friday, “just in case” their cold was about to hit full tilt over the weekend. (I know this because I’ve seen the rest of you in the waiting room). I bring my daughter in on this particular Friday and we are assigned to the grumpy doctor. Apparently she’s seen too many of us “just in casers” already this morning, and it’s only 9:30. She glances in Emma’s ears, nose and throat and proceeds to say those five most dreaded words a worried mother can hear. “It’s just a head cold.”
I know, I know, I’m supposed to be relieved that Emma’s not in terrible pain and it’s a simple problem of too much mucus. But that means no relief in sight for another two weeks, and my mother’s instinct is telling me I just came one day too early. And I hate to say it, (well no I don’t), I was right.
Saturday it hit. Fever of 102, fussiness, loss of appetite and lethargy join the mix. But now it’s Saturday night, and tomorrow’s Sunday. This is not worth a trip to Urgent Care, but it does mean that Emma will feel awful until at least Tuesday. Several doses of Motrin later, we’re back at the doctor’s office and I’m paying my $25 copay (again!) for the same cold she had three days ago.
But this time we hit the jackpot. “Raging ear infection”, says the good doctor. This is the nice one that I prefer to see everytime I come, but I must not be the only one because he’s also the busiest. He proceeds to hand me my winning lottery ticket, a prescription for the tough stuff. Smug in my victory I drag both of my kids into Target to get it filled; and then the other shoe drops.
“$67.”, the pharmacist says.
“67?!”, I say. “Are we fixing an ear infection or sedating her with fine aged cognac?”
He shrugs his shoulders. Mmm, helpful.
One call to my doctor later, the prescription for liquid gold is changed to an overwhelmingly cheaper version. Finally, Emma is on her way to recovery, and Mom breathes a giant sigh of relief.
And then, not moments from returning home from the pharmacy, the inevitable happens. My son is burning up.