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Type A Flu, Twin Pregnancy & Lots of Elmo

November 9th, 2009 |

Thursday afternoon I received a call at the pharmacy that my son had a bit of a fever.

He has had a slight cough that progressed from dry a week ago to a little bit wet in the coming days, but that was it, and it’s pretty normal for me during the summer to autumn change to get that dry cough at night before bed.

So I picked him up an hour later and took him home for some Elmo, fluids and some TLC. Despite a random power outage, the evening was uneventful.

Later on that night we went into his room to get a temp reading and noticed he was at 102. So we called the doctor who instructed us to alternate from tylenol to motrin every three hours to control fever and pain, keep pushing fluids and to make an appointment tomorrow.

Friday morning I woke up knowing the day would suck, as my college roommate and I share a birthday and Friday night was our 30th birthday dinner at Ditka’s in Oak Brook. Ditka’s. Ditka’s. Ditka’s. (In Chicagoland you must say his name 4 times out of respect for his holy name) So yeah, I cancelled the dinner, apologized for the inconvenience and went back to watching Elmo with the lil’ dude and had a work conference call in the meantime.

Julie had called and told me she made an appointment with a doctor for 2pm, so as lil’ dude napped and I was showering I heard the garage door opening. For my birthday present, Julie moved some meetings and took a half day to help me take lil’ dude to the Dr’s office. What a sweetheart, then again she would be staying in the car to avoid the “sickmosphere”, but still, I appreciated the gesture.

Long story short: The doctor didn’t have time or patience to answer my questions. He heard the first two words out of my mouth, which were “fever” and “cough” and whipped out a swab and shoved it up my kid’s nose without warning. My son didn’t like this guy at all and gave him a shit-fit when he went in unannounced, which I tipped him 3 dollars in the pigskin piggy bank for later (good work son).

Word to those wanting to be doctors, even if it takes an extra 30 seconds out of your visit, make a connection with the kid you’re going to be prodding, if you don’t you’ll piss off the kid AND the parents. A simple “hello” directly to the kid makes a world of difference.

He left the room as I was still asking questions and said over me “The swab takes ten minutes.” So, any parent who has ever sat in a doctor’s office exam room for any amount of time realizes those rooms are gross. I didn’t want lil’ dude climbing or eating anything so I built up a sweat calming him down and keeping him from breaking things while he had a complete meltdown. Legs kicking, wailing like a banshee, tossing his head into my chin like a classically trained MMA fighter, etc.

Twenty minutes later the nurse comes in and says that he was “positive for A” and that the doctor would be in in a minute to talk. So the doctor comes in ten minutes later and tells me, flat out “He has the swine.” I cock my head and it’s like a judo-kick to the face. “Really?”

“I’m sending a prescription for Tamiflu to your local pharmacy, give that to him and he’ll be fine in a few days.” Says mister important doctor.

“What is the alternative to the Tamiflu? I’ve heard nothing but grief from the parents who dealt with a kid on Tamiflu.” I retort.

“You could do NOTHING. If that is your choice, but, um, I would advise it, he’s pretty sick.” Says mister important doctor.

Using that type of language towards a parent is confrontational in my opinion. Suggesting that by asking about an alternative that I would do NOTHING to help heal my child of the flu is fucking offensive, and I fucking take offense to that, fucker.

Mister important doctor makes the stand-up/follow-me motion with his hands and leads us out of the room and says to have a nice day. Meanwhile, I’m still re-asking the questions I was ignored on the first time through and I’m already in the hallway being booted from his divine presence.

I get back to the van where Julie is studying and tell her what the doctor told me, thinking he would know the difference between A and swine flu, I didn’t mention the nurse’s comment that he was positive for A. She gasps and we both immediately call our respective backups when we can’t fully comprehend things, she calls her pharmacist sister, I call my compounding pharmacist father.

My dad knows what a white coat can do to a person’s judgement but understands that when you have kids your doubtful judgement of all doctors takes a back seat to “whatever is best for my kids” so he doesn’t press the issue that going to the doctor was probably not in our best interests. But he tells me that because we’ve made the effort and now things are documented that our son has “a flu, whichever it actually is” we have to follow their instructions or risk the consequences. That all makes sense, but how do you treat a flu if not with Tamiflu? “Time, kleenex, water and soap.”

Julie’s sister is appalled that our son was diagnosed as a swine flu carrier with just a swab. The doctor we saw must have a microscope in his glasses to determine a swine flu case over Influenza A without a blood test. What he told me was just not true. There is always a potential for it to be swine, but to intentionally tell a parent that is FEAR MONGERING. She tells Julie that our son is positive for A, but you simply cannot confirm a flu case is indeed H1N1 without lab tests. Not only that, but those lab tests don’t really prove anything since the flu is still the flu!

So you can probably guess how the rest of the weekend and today have been, Julie stays 6 feet away from our kid at all times and I get to deal with this complete feeling of isolation from the entire world, on my birthday!

We cancelled my party and instead had take out ribs after lil’ dude went to bed on Saturday, and then watched Revolutionary Road. The ribs were great but HOLY SHIT, that movie was complete garbage. But hey, at least it wasn’t Elmo.

I’ve watched Elmo in Grouchland 11 times and 23 different episodes of Sesame Street since Thursday afternoon, I’m about at the end of my Elmorope. I now liken his voice to that of my 6th grade teacher who rather than saying “Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…” she would say “Mundee, Toosdee, Wensdee…” – I want to strangle Elmo.

Please divine architect, make my kid feel better and be symptom free so that I may return to the land of adults and humans who speak about things other than numbers and the alphabet.

BEFORE I GO CRAZY!

Oh, and today’s word on the street? “MENTALBREAKDOWN!”