Despite gallons of yogurt, blueberries, orange juice, and kid-sized probiotics; despite chronic hand-washing and Purell baths; and despite almost no trips to the grocery store, in-door play places, and other obvious germ factories, Olivia woke up with one of those coughs that make you to wonder who let a dog in the house and how on earth you are going to soothe your poor baby girl's sore throat.
The call to keep her home from school was an easy one: she needed the rest as much as everyone at school didn't need the exposure.
The next step was to call the doctor (beginning at 8:30, when they open the phone lines) to try to get an appointment before Joseph's nap, lunchtime, and high people traffic in the highly contagious waiting room (And, by the way, why the HELL do they put toys out??? Are they banking on repeat customers???).
Unfortunately, an hour and a half of failed phone calls led me to a new dilemma: if there are that many sick kids clogging the lines to get an appointment, do I want to expose my little miss to something worse?
As I weighed my options, I watched as she danced around the family rooom to a Fresh Beats video, fever free and devoid of the scary cough since the early morning wake-up. She was acting fine (and, in this case, "fine" includes pelvic gyrations to the beat that send her father into fits of hyperventilation) and her only complaint was that her throat is "scratchy".
Tough call. I tried the doctor again.
Again the busy signal conjured up images of green faced children sending mucus through the air and doctors dressed in hazmat gear. Shudder.
I decided to sit tight and watch her. I could always try for a late day appointment and rely on hot soups, tea, and tender loving care until a more obvious answer presents itself, especially if that dog comes back to visit.
I'm 32, a dad, and I am not a douchebag...
6 years ago