In so many ways I’ve been lucky with the little man. True, his first year was often hellish, what with the multiple ear infections (and bonus sinus infections for mom!), two surgeries, and lots of general misery. But since then it’s been smooth sailing. He doesn’t take ill as often as some kids, and when he does rarely is it serious enough to warrant a visit to the clinic. But today worrying got the better of me and caused me to call the triage nurse. She booked us the last “open” appointment of the day. We raced over to the other side of town, arriving well before our appointed time, only to hurry up and wait. After forty minutes in the waiting room we were ushered into the inner sanctum, to the office of a pediatrician (his regular doc, was, unfortunately, unavailable). One who apparently has a thing for Mickey Mouse. That rodent bastard was everywhere. Smiling down on us with that goofy grin from framed posters, children’s book covers, on a container of tongue depressers, and, most eerily, in the form of an ill-used plastic doll, complete with mate Minnie. We waited another forty minutes in the creepy cramped room, with the little man alternately playing and lying down on the exam table to rest. When the doc finally arrived she spent less than five minutes with us, suggesting I pick up some Children’s Sudafed. It was a relief to find that my dear boy doesn’t have an infection, ear or otherwise, but couldn’t the triage nurse have suggested this course of action? Live and learn, I guess. After an early dinner the poor boy fell asleep, around 6pm, for the second day in a row. This time while watching Yellow Submarine. The synergy between that and the dose of sudafed in his system is bound to cause some seriously trippy dreams.
