So, 3 1/2 years into this thing called parenthood, I'm thinking that I missed my calling in the medical profession. Of course, I owe it all to the little people. And by that, I mean all of the germy little buggers at daycare. (Mine own germ-laden tot included, of course.)
A has been in daycare since she was 10 weeks old (thanks, shitty state-sponsored non-maternity-leave program!), meaning that since she was 10 weeks old, her little system has been bombarded by the very best that germs have to offer. You name it, she's had it. Usually more than once. Ear infections? Out the wazoo. (And in the name of all deities, praise the ear tubes!) Rotavirus, the nastiest, vilest, most foul disease known to childkind? Three times, by my count. Strep, three times, including one grueling four-hour stint in the ER late on a Sunday afternoon. The raspy, frightening joy of croup? Golly, I don't even know if I've got a count on that one, I only know that my pores will be forever open thanks to hours spent in a steam-filled bathroom.
My point here is that through all of this, I've become an expert diagnostician. This is quite a recovery from the first year, where I blamed everything on teething only to find out that it wasn't, and didn't realize that she really had been teething until the little toothies actually poked through the gums. Since then, man, I'm like Hawkeye with the symptoms. Feels warm? I don't even check her temperature unless her palms are warm, because she's warm-blooded by nature. Temp of 100.7? It's an ear infection. Temp higher than 101? It's something worse. Temp hovering around 100-ish? Probably just a virus, unless an hour or two later, she projectile vomits. Then I know that I've got rotavirus (which I POTTY-TRAINED through, earning me Mother of The Damned Century, if you ask me). (And if you have no experience with rotavirus, I will simply say that it is an extended bout of diarrhea with the foulest smell ever to have smelled. It could be used in biological warfare. And I'm not even exaggerating--Google "rotavirus" and "smell" and you will find all sorts of wonderfully informative bits from beleaguered parents. Nurses and doctors alike can diagnose it by the smell alone. I shit, ha ha, you not.)
So, when the opportunity comes, as it did today, for me to receive that fateful call from daycare ("We've got A in the office with a fever of 101.4," delivered in an accusatory tone that implies that I'm happily foisting my ill child off in the hopes that she serves as a plague agent), the second I hang up the phone, I call the pediatrician to get an immediate appointment. (Do not wait for the weekend. Never wait for the weekend. The symptoms will only worsen. Trust me on this.) Then I picked up the child.
Like an expert, I took her measure. Slightly perky, slightly glazed-over look. Par for the course for just about anything. Took her home to wait out the hour before the appointment, she turned into a limp, whiny rag. Must be serious. I was told (by the child) to carry her to the potty, carry her to the car, carry her inside the doctor's office. (My back? Great, thanks.) Once inside, however, she perked up enough to play with some toys. Once in the exam room? She started running around like a lunatic, happily playing Simon Says. And her temp was about 100 degrees. T looked at me like, Yeah, you've overreacted again. And I'm thinking, oh, well, at least she's not sick... but damn it, I've lost my edge.
Doctor comes in, does a few peeks and prods, and ten minutes later confirms that her strep test came out with a faint positive, meaning we'd just caught the beginning of it. (And this is also a point of concern; once, I got her in there too fast and the rapid test came back negative, which was why we ended up in the ER on a Sunday afternoon.)
So, it's terrible to say that I was relieved about the diagnosis, but that's mostly because we caught it just in time, but not before just in time, and that by tomorrow afternoon, the lovely, lovely Ceflex will have knocked this thing out of her system and she'll be back to her vivacious (insane) self.
But a small part of me will admit that after we got the results and the doctor left, I looked at T, smiled, and said, "I told you so." Dr. Mom? I still got it.
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3 comments:
way to go, super mom! though your post has definitely made me wonder if titus is currently harboring tiny minions of death...
i've been warned about the perils of daycare. he already got a sniffly nose the first day. :shivers:
Here's the thing: He's going to get sick. Many times. It's inevitable. To the point where you'll be railing against the gods, asking why you spent all of that time breastfeeding if it wasn't going to help his little immune system. (Although I will note that it is highly unlike that there are any little minions of death roaming about within him.)
But here's the other thing: It will pass. Usually within the first winter. And then, as I said, he will be a virtual Iron Man. Nothing short of strep will fell him. So long-term, you are doing him a huge favor--he'll actually be able to attend all of grammar school and become the brilliant scholar we all know that he has the potential to be. Short term, well... you'll learn the same things I did and become a Dr. Mom yourself. I'm sure there's a badge for it somewhere...
You're right about the "accusatory tone" used by all day-care workers in reporting your child's symptoms.
Charlie was running a fever on Tuesday. I got a call from day care telling me to come pick him up. While taking him to my car, I was reminded no less than twice that "he has to be fever-free for 24 hours before you can bring him back!"
Yes, I know this, bitch! I've done this before---this ain't our first rodeo. I wished I could leave a serum full of Bubonic Plague in his classroom as a bit of a parting gift---but then I think of all of the other mothers and fathers this would impact.
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