A Dr. Postscript

It's 5:04 p.m. -- it's hard to believe I actually made it through the day. I can't say I've gotten any better as the day progressed (in fact, just the opposite is more likely true) but at least we've made progress in Grace's condition. But, oh, the journey to get there ...

My first hurdle was getting through to the pediatrician. I waited until 9:05 a.m. to call for an appointment. Busy. After trying for close to 10 minutes, I finally got through to the phone menu ... only to hear it say something along the likes like "We're not open now so please call back during regular office hours." Ummmm ... what? They were supposed to have opened 15 minutes ago! After trying for another 15 minutes -- only to receive busy signals -- I finally got through to a nurse. The soonest available appointment was 11:45 a.m. That's a horrible hour for her, so close to naptime, and rest is what she needs. But what can you do ...

Thankfully they saw us right away but it turns out she has a very bad case of croup. Croup? Do people still get croup? It seems so ... I don't know -- so "Anne of Green Gables":

"Oh, Anne, do come quick," implored Diana nervously. "Minnie May is awful sick--she's got croup. Young Mary Joe says--and Father and Mother are away to town and there's nobody to go for the doctor. Minnie May is awful bad and Young Mary Joe doesn't know what to do--and oh, Anne, I'm so scared!" ...

"Don't cry, Di," said Anne cheerily. "I know exactly what to do for croup. You forget that Mrs. Hammond had twins three times. When you look after three pairs of twins you naturally get a lot of experience. They all had croup regularly. Just wait till I get the ipecac bottle--you mayn't have any at your house. Come on now." ...

Minnie May, aged three, was really very sick. She lay on the kitchen sofa feverish and restless, while her hoarse breathing could be heard all over the house. Young Mary Joe, a buxom, broad-faced French girl from the creek, whom Mrs. Barry had engaged to stay with the children during her absence, was helpless and bewildered, quite incapable of thinking what to do, or doing it if she thought of it.

Anne went to work with skill and promptness.

"Minnie May has croup all right; she's pretty bad, but I've seen them worse. First we must have lots of hot water. I declare, Diana, there isn't more than a cupful in the kettle! There, I've filled it up, and, Mary Joe, you may put some wood in the stove. I don't want to hurt your feelings but it seems to me you might have thought of this before if you'd any imagination. Now, I'll undress Minnie May and put her to bed and you try to find some soft flannel cloths, Diana. I'm going to give her a dose of ipecac first of all."

Well, I don't have ipecac, and croup does still seem to me to be so ... 19th century. The pediatrician, after confirming the croupy situation, was concerned that -- because I waited so long -- pneumonia might be settling in. Usually they like to treat croup on the third day of illness, before it gets this bad, but it was far advanced now on Day 5. Ooohhhh ... now don't even think of going there, lady! Grace had no symptoms other than fever on Day 3, and if I did call I would have been told to stay home and ride it out. So after the visit, instead of going home to a nice warm bed (for me) and crib (for Grace), I was sent to an MRI place for chest X-rays to rule out pneumonia once and for all.

Poor little Grace was a trooper. Maybe I should say "pooper" because, as Murphy's Law always dictates, she just had to fill up that nice, clean diaper while we waited for the x-ray. The receptionist said they had no area for changing her, but I did have some time before they were ready so I walked outside and changed Grace in the back of the car. And of course, since by now Murphy's Law is working overtime, the technician stuck her head out the back door and said in a horribly obnoxious tone, "Are you done yet?" with frown, down-turned mouth, and all. Oh, that's just nice ...

The end result is this: no pneumonia (thank God!), bad croup, 3 days of steroids (our girl will be pumping some iron!) and a humidifier -- that should do the trick. Steroids could make her hyper (oh, joy) and I'm starting to wonder if Aidan chugged some of it on the sly, the way he's tearing around the living room like a maniac. I guess he's making up for last week's lethargy, having it all come out in one frantic burst of unearthly energy. Dora the Explorer is on while Grace is so far hyper-free and sacked out on the couch, thumb in mouth. I'm heading for the loveseat myself, for being upright for too long is a rather unpleasant thing. My lovely sister-in-law came over earlier with her famous (and delicious) chicken and broccoli casserole, fresh dinner roles, and a pumpkin pie (thank you, thoughtful friend!). The oven is heating up, I'll put the casserole in, Don called and is on his way home ...

Oh, this autumn so far is a doozy ...