Seeing Spots

Lest I forget this adventurous foray, I thought I would blog it and leave it perpetually floating in cyberspace so that the Mice can read about it someday.

Two days into our visit to the farm a couple weeks ago, we went to visit Great Grandma (my Grandma - now known as Great Grandma, of course). We scheduled a pizza supper with my aunts and uncle as well as the girls' aunt, my sister. The plan was to leave shortly after the pizza party to make it home before either girl would fall asleep in the car. That was the plan.

In reality, Miss Mouse was overly tired that afternoon, falling asleep on Grammy's lap once and then on the couch next to me following that intial nap. She also seemed to be radiating heat. Absolutely radiating heat. Around 4:00, I finally decided we should take her temperature; in my planning brilliance, I had purposefully left the thermometer I had brought to the farm just there, up at the farm. Who would need a thermometer along on a day-trip, I reasoned. Well, apparently we did. Great Grandma found hers, though I know not how. She had looked in every cupboard, the closet in her bathroom, and all containers in said closet. Then I looked in them all with her. No thermometer. Miss Mouse continued to seem warmer. I called my aunt who was bringing out the pizza from town to have her bring a thermometer along as well. By the time she got there, Great Grandma had once more gone through everything in the bathroom and come out with numerous, numerous thermometers. Where they had been when we looked together, I have no idea, but I'm glad she found them.

The thermometer read 103.6 under her arm. Yipes. Definitely deserved a call to a nurse line, I reasoned. I was most worried because her sudden fever was accompanied with no other symptoms. Nothing. She had eaten us all under the table at a buffet for lunch, had a massive snack in the mid-afternoon, and emphatically denied anything on her body hurting.

After 40 minutes on the phone with our insurance (to find the number of our "convenient" nurseline that we have access to through the insurance) and then with our nurseline, I had been mainly warned that if she could not bend her chin to her chest, she might have menningitis. Double yipes. She was not pleased with my pleas to squish her chin on her chest. No, she was not impressed one bit and saw no reason she needed to do so (although she did do it and looked at me with a bit of sympathy for my craziness when I asked if it hurt). I was instructed to call the nurseline back in 48 hours to let them know which clinic I took her to; that hasn't been done because my Grandma in her lifelong quest for cleanliness (this quest is remarkably successful, I must say - I will never, ever have a house that looks like hers) must have thrown the slip of scratch paper where I had written Miss Mouse's official "number" on. I was to refer to this "number" when I called back with the official title of the walk-in clinic where we were headed. I received these instructions after being grilled by the nurse on the phone about what the name of the hospital and clinic were in town and asked how I would find it if I didn't know the name. I finally nearly hung up while explaining that I would ask my family who lives there! Now, I realize the poor nurse was only doing her job and following her orders; she was definitely a nice woman, probably a knowledgeable nurse, just stuck in a system more concerned with "official numbers" and paperwork than with commonsense care. I really could not care less that my Grandma threw the slip of paper, or that I perhaps have washed it now in a pair of jeans. Never once did the nurse suggest I look in Miss Mouse's throat. This will be important in the rest of the story.

Off we headed, with one of my aunts in tow as my support and navigator, to find the walk-in clinic. The first clinic, and the only one my aunt knew existed, was locked up tight. Back out with my little steamy Mouse into the below zero temps to find the other walk-in clinic. Thankfully we were able to call and find out where we were supposed to have gone. We arrived around 7 p.m.

We happened to arrive in the middle of training for a new receptionist. It took 15 minutes to check-in. 7:15. No problem, lots of time before 8 p.m. to figure out what's wrong.

7:25, we were called back by a friendly nurse. He asked Miss Mouse's weight. It's been a year since she was weighed at a doctor's office, so he thought we should weigh her again.....with her boots on? Then he thought we should get her height. Again, he had no problem with her boots staying on. What do I know, I guess......

After getting her temp taken two more times and both of us being given suckers, which was very nice since we had completely missed our pizza supper, yet another friendly nurse came in to walk us over to the emergency room. Huh??? Oh, yes, she explained. If someone comes in with a fever over 101.5, they send them immediately to the emergency room in case they need more testing than the clinic can provide. Perhaps it is just her ears, she said, but they'll be able to really figure it out over in the emergency room. I wondered why no one in the walk-in clinic had looked in her ears. Or throat.

The receptionists were expecting us in the e.r., but the nurse who initially evaluated Miss Mouse was not. Apparently she wasn't in on the protocol of sending anyone with a high fever over to the e.r. She told me that Miss Mouse must have strep because that's what is going around school, but she'd do a culture just to see. She gagged Miss Mouse to the point of puking, and yet, even she did not actually look in Miss Mouse's throat.

By the time we were called back to see the doctor, Law & Order SVU was coming on in the waiting room. I suppose there was a way to change the channel, but I was glad to escape to the isolation of the back room instead. There we met a doctor who finally, finally looked in Miss Mouse's throat. He called me over to look.....at the bright white spots clearly visible on her tonsils.

Argh. In hindsight, I could have looked in her throat, even though she adamantly insisted that it didn't hurt until we got to the emergency room, and gone to the walk-in clinic asking them to check her for tonsillitis! My poor little guinea pig on whom I am learning the art of parenting was quite a trooper that night.

I literally ran in to the only open pharmacy with 15 minutes to spare before their closing at 10 p.m., grabbed the prescription, picked up extra diapers, some popsicles, and two shirts for the Mice to use for pajamies. I'm so thankful we were able to just crash and sleep that night at my Grandma's place, thankful that my Auntie Linda who, with no children of her own, did not have to spend the evening in the emergency room with her niece and grand-niece, came along anyway, thankful that my Mom and my Auntie Karen were able to play with and corral Sunny so that I could focus on Miss Mouse that evening, thankful that my Grandma appears to not have gotten our "bug", thankful that Sunny Baby Mouse did not pick it up, thankful that I will know to always look in my daughters' throats before taking them to the professionals, and especially thankful that I can look at the whole situation as a memory now.