Well, it's a good thing I'm not headed to med school any time soon...
When my son was born almost twenty-one months ago, a sweet nurse told me that all I had to do was kiss his forehead to gauge whether or not he was running a fever. This was a relief to me, because I have bad luck with thermometers. I can never seem to get a correct reading and always end up with a number below what I think sounds normal (though this could explain why I'm always freezing...)
Anyhow, my husband and I were fine with the "kiss test," but of course bought several different thermometers to keep in the house just in case. We tested them on ourselves (orally and ear!) to make sure they worked, and both got readings in the 96 degree range. So that means neither of us can work a thermometer. I'M kind of slow, but my husband enjoys writing computer code, studying algorithms (not that I know what those are), and reading historical non-fiction; so that makes me feel a LITTLE better that he is just as baffled by such a simple device. We're perfect together!
Fast forward to this week: my little angelic ball of dough woke up on Tuesday sweaty and miserable. He had a rough situation in the diaper region, too, and didn't feel like eating or drinking. But the most alarming part was that he was incredibly fatigued, and if you know my son (or any toddler) that's just not normal. BUT I did the "kiss test" and confirmed that he was not running a fever.
I took him to the doctor, and she thought he seemed okay (no fever, ear, nose, or throat issues). She prescribed a special ointment for his "diaper situation" ($60 WITH insurance. I'm assuming it's made of gold leaf... but naturally it's worth every penny if it makes him feel better). We went home, I called out of work, and we spent most of the day curled up together on a Thomas the Tank Engine bender.
Today he seemed a little better, eating and drinking and even playing a little, but I was worried because he was still exhausted. I called the pediatrician's nurse line, which I've always had good experiences with. A woman called me back a couple hours later. I immediately detected that she was an older woman and DEFINITELY from New York, possibly Queens.
From the beginning, she seemed impatient with me. She asked me if Grant had a fever. I tried to explain that I had felt his forehead and it was cool, but I might as well have said, "My psychic believes he's fine." Now to her credit, I probably sounded like a moron. But I can't take Grant's temperature! Besides the fact that I can't work a thermometer, that kid often won't stay still long enough for me to do it. This nurse was appalled. In a high-pitched, Fran-Drescher-like voice, she insisted that I take it immediately and she would "cahwl" me back in ten minutes.
Eleven minutes later, Nurse Fran called back and boy did I get it. I felt like my grandmother from Flushing was yelling at me."I just can't seem to get a reading!" I whined back. "He won't stay still!"
"YOU'VE got to make him stay still! You're BIGGAH than him, and he needs to learn! YOU'RE bigg-aaah!"
Oh, really? I'm bigger than my 21-month-old son? Thanks, Nurse Fran. I can take it from here... What is it with strong-accented women pointing out my son's size lately??
Nurse Fran finally gave up, exasperated with my parental ineptitude. She told me to keep taking his temp throughout the day and monitor his eating, drinking, and general behavior. She might as well have told me not to shake him vigorously; she clearly thought I was THAT much of a dunce. I guess I can't really blame her..
BUT... as soon as I hung up, I used all my big-person force and finally held the thermometer under Grant's doughy arm long enough to get a reading. I eagerly brought the thermometer up to my face to read it and discovered that the freakin' thing was in Celsius.
That's it; I'm cancelling my plans for pre-med.
")
P.S. Grant is doing much better this evening, thank goodness.
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