I was so jazzed about my last trip to the pediatrician, that I thought another trip was in order. Since I wasn’t sick or didn’t need any shots, and an adult hanging around an office full of children is a tad bit creepy, I decided to take Zoe along for the ride this time. The girl woke up battling a nasty case of the sniffles, as did her sisters, and refused all things nap related all day. I am still a bit miffed that you cannot give an 8 month old Benedryl. So I examined the evidence: slightly repulsive smell emanating from one or both ears (on and off for about a week or so now), cold symptoms, refusing to lay down (it was really quite sad when I went to get her after lots and lots of screaming, only to find her standing up in the crib, hanging on for dear life to the hooded bath towel that hangs from the corner of it because she hasn’t yet mastered that what goes up must come down)…I know! It’s an ear infection! Score!
*Note: I have never, ever, in my lengthy 2.5 years of parenting, experienced a fever lasting more that 2 days max in any of my kids, much less an ear infection. Don’t hate me, fellow moms. Just take solace in the fact that you most likely get out of the house a lot more than I do and converse with actual adults, possibly about actual things that don’t involve poop, time outs, or “let’s put our kids together and compare rashes.”
Onward. So off to the pedi for a 4pm appointment that I show up for at 4:15, naturally. After some examining, Dr S exclaims, “Perfect!”
“Perfect ear infection, right?”
“Nope. No ear infection. Must just be a cold.”
Damn. No, I didn’t want her to have an ear infection, but I did want more of an explanation for her refusal to nap and my previous night’s lack of sleep due to her waking up every hour, but not really waking up. So really, it was just me waking up every hour and stumbling into her room to find her still asleep.
So as she hands me a prescription for some meds that will hopefully
knock Zoe out help clear up Zoe’s congestion, I suddenly remember something very important — that I never filled Claire’s Epipen prescription for her peanut allergy. You know, the life saving plunge to the thigh that we are supposed to administer if she has another reaction.
Now I can blame this on Big C, since he took her to the doctor and came home giving me the impression that the little blue case he brought back included the Epipen (and the accompanying prescription was just what, an extra?). But that doesn’t explain why it took me a) several days to even look at all of the literature on peanut allergies/reactions/what the hell are we supposed to do if she goes into anaphylactic shock, b) several months to bother opening the little blue case to reveal that it did not, in fact, include the lifesaving medication, c) several more months to actually buck up and tell the doctor that I never filled the prescription and we have been living life on the peanut allergy edge. And by the way can you call in another one for me and maybe this time I’ll fill it.
The woman is so nice, but she did kind of look at me like I just told her that we use Zoe as live bait for our pet gators and backed out of the room saying, “Uh, yeah, that’s not good…” while I scramble for some kind of excuse for my incapability, most likely the one where I say, “Since the baby came along….you know…”
Mom fail. I’m guessing that my pediatrician will not be meeting me for coffee and girl talk after all. Unless, that is, I’m willing to pay her $150 an hour to do so. I’ll even bring the Epipen.