Cured by Co-Pay

After a bout of exceptional clinginess, crabbiness and waking up at unacceptable times of the morning for the past few days, Just Barely the Youngest woke up from her nap yesterday with a high fever. The ear thermometer registered at 102.7--I couldn't subject her to the rectal. A Motrin-Tylenol one-two punch brought it down to 101, and made her happier, but when we went to the park later that afternoon she was totally off balance and falling all over the place. She even fell down even when she was just trying to walk, and she's usually more steady on her feet than I am (Just Barely the Dad can testify to that). The falling meant that she was either drunk or had an inner ear thing going on, I surmised, and since she had a fever and all of the booze was accounted for, I chalked up her misery to an ear infection. She didn't eat her dinner, and even spit out her oatmeal cookie (choosing projectile all over the couch as her spit of choice). That night she greeted me a la monitor at 12, then again at 12:45 and, finally, at 3:00. She screamed her lungs out until I got her out of her crib and brought her downstairs, but all she wanted when we got there was to be held upright and to sleepily inform the cat that he was, indeed, a "tat." After a few minutes of her feline status commentary, I put her back in her crib and each time she went right back to sleep. Normally I would have waited another day before calling the doctor, but I'm getting on a plane alone with both children early Saturday morning, but i didn't want to be the person with the screaming ear-infection child who happens to be surrounded by glaring childless business men, so I needed some antibiotics asap.

Addison (miraculously) slept through the hour that's set aside at our pediatrician's office for sick kid visits, and the first available appointment of the day wasn't until 2:00, which is right in the middle of nap time. She still had a fever when she woke up, and after a few botched attempts to make it to the park (watch for the story "Monster Blood," coming soon--intrigued?), she was tired and crabby and I put her down at noon for an early nap. The 2:00 appointment meant Just Barely the Oldest and I had to wake her an hour and a half later, and Just Barely the Youngest was, shall we say, sub-pleased when we disturbed her slumber.

She was flushed and crying and generally pathetic all the way to the doctor's office, but the jingling of the door as it opened, and the co-pay that it signified cured her. The second we stepped through that door, Addison was all sunshine and smiles. The child leapt from the arms that she had previously refused to leave, and took off running across the room, laughing all the way. She climbed the table, she climbed the couch, she gleefully told the fish in the fish tank that they were "fffffsh." The appointment had been made, though, and our account had been charged, so there was nothing left to do but hang my head and face the doctor looking like one of those moms who calls in when her kid sneezes.

"What seems to be the problem?" the nurse asked when we got called back to our room. "Ummmm, well, she used to be crying and she woke me up a couple of times last night," I stumbled. Yeah, so, she's one, her look seemed to say. "On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate her pain right now?" I was asked as Addison ran around the room, laughing at her sister who kept trying to tickle her. "Ummmmm...."

In the end the diagnosis was a sore throat "...and maybe she has a headache," the doctor threw in at the end, probably because he had to say something. "Keep giving her Motrin and Tylenol," was all he advised. When we got home I gave her a popsicle for her throat, but instead of sucking on it, she carried it around the yard in her closed fist until it melted, and ate sand instead. She didn't need that popsicle! She had been cured by co-pay.