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Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Scenes from a Weekend Plague

I arrived at the pediatrician's office shortly after 8 a.m. There was one other car in the parking lot, with a woman talking on a cell phone. Presumably, she had a child in her back seat.

I waited for the staff to arrive and unlock the door. When it appeared that we were close to going in, I took Mia to sit by the front door. (It was a nice morning.) I sat on the concrete landing, and she sat on my lap while I fed her Cheerios.

The woman got out of her car and then extracted her child. We exchanged pleasantries, and then the following.

Scott: How old is your son?

Woman: He'll be one year old tomorrow.

Scott: Oh, wow. She's 16 months old.

Woman: When did she start walking?

Scott: Well, she hasn't yet. She has a lazy eye . . .

Woman: Yeah, he's lazy, too, but I make him walk anyway.

She was lying in bed, trying to sleep. He woke up from a strange dream (about giving someone directions that never ended) and was playing with his nose. Suddenly, he felt the chills. And the achiness. And the nasal congestion. She'd had these symptoms prior to going to sleep, and he'd hoped that they wouldn't both be sick at the same time . . . not while their daughter was sick, too.

He got up to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he told his half-awake wife that he had gotten whatever it was that she was (further) sick with. Repressing tears and/or a panic attack, he said, "I'm just worried that we're gonna give her something that will kill her."

Your doctor prescribes the same antidote for everything: antibiotics. This time was no different, even though he said not to expect "any magic." He also recommended some vitamin supplements and an expectorant.

His doctor, on the other hand, gave him a scrip for antibiotics (to hold, in case things got worse, not better), a sample of Rhinocort, a recommendation to get some Affrin for the nasal congestion, and a scrip for vicodin . . . for the cough. (The nurse had warned him not to take it if he was going to be driving . . . "It's a narcotic." Yeah, he knew that.)


"Yeah, apparently, I've been hit by a truck or something."

"I don't think you should take that."

"No. I probably won't even pick it up."

You made a joke about getting them anyway and keeping them on hand. For party favors, perhaps. Or to give away to friends.

After picking up the medications, he read the literature that came with the vicodin.

"Hey, I guess it is used to treat coughs."


I hadn't meant to leave last Friday's post up for that long. I just haven't had the time / energy to update. We all three stayed home from work / daycare Monday and yesterday. Mia is back in daycare today. I may try to put in a half-day if I feel up to it later. And Michelle will likely be out all week, unless she makes a dramatic turn for the better.

Oh, and I still haven't taken any of the vicodin. I'm pretty afraid of what it might do to me.