Sickliness is the Mother of the Internet

I have been sickly for the past two weeks. It's a random virus that I probably got from my child. I only had a fever for the first couple of days, but now it is all upper respiratory crap. It's annoying, but you really can't justify taking a sick day for it.

I sound awful. I have a terrible, horrible, cough right now. Uncontrollable coughing. Cannot take a breath coughing. I've coughed so hard in the last seven days that I may have inadvertently hacked up a lung. Twice. I've coughed so hard that I have actually tinkled a couple of times, which is extremely embarrassing at IEP meetings. The only positive for my embarrassment is that the meetings seem to go a lot faster.

People tell me that I look awful, too. Isn't that just plain cruel, to tell a poor sick person how terrible they look? I think it's downright mean to kick a woman when she is down! I also think that I should be allowed to punch these people, but they tell me that is not appropriate behavior for an adult.

So I go to my doctor and tell him my tale of woe. Dr. C looks in my ears, listens to my heart and lungs, checks my throat. He then sat back, and put his hand on his chin in a thoughtful manner.

I knew exactly what he was going to say. I'd looked it up on WebMd.

"You've got a cough," he told me.

"You. Are. Kidding." I said, between gulps of air. I was too winded to punch him, but it's the thought that counts, right?

I had wanted some drugs to kill the evil virus, but no such luck. I finally just started using my inhaler, and that seems to have calmed down my fits of coughing for right now. I guess it's a good thing that WebMd didn't tell me that I had the Black Plague.

There are TONS of websites devoted to telling people what horrible sorts of diseases that they have. I am not someone who spends hours on the interwebs, poring obsessively over medical sites while thinking that I have some horrid condition that is going to make all my toes fall off. There are people who do this, however. People who read all the side effects of a new medication and suddenly develop all of those symptoms. People who have more doctors on speed dial than relatives or friends just ain't right. Hypochondriacs.

These people drive me insane. I think that they are the reason that medical care is so expensive these days. They take up the doctor's time with fake illnesses so he can't see other patients. They make it impossible for doctors to take someone like me, with my evil cough, seriously. I could be faking that hacked up lung.

I guess that if it weren't for the hypochondriacs, however, the internet would probably never have taken off so quickly. Things online would be nowhere near as fast if all that was on the computer were Plants vs. Zombies and cute kitties. I should be thanking them instead of knocking them.

Except that I need to go cough up the other lung now.

Whooping Cough Blues

I got a phone call from the daycare the other day.

One of those calls.

I hate those calls.

"Zane has a cough," the director said.

I agreed with her. He did have a barky cough. Zane has allergies and my genes, which means that sometimes he has a constant drip of snot down the back of his throat. His behavior was otherwise normal. That says 'not sick' to me. Does that say 'not sick' to you?

"It's really bad," she said. "It could be whooping cough." Translation: come and get your kid now, please.

This area has had several outbreaks of pertussis over the years, so I understood her concerns. A barking cough is nothing to take lightly, if there are other symptoms like a high fever. Zane did not have any of the other symptoms. I knew exactly what the doctor was going to say, but the daycare wasn't going to let him stay. Poop.

I reluctantly got an appointment, then drove the 23.7 miles to get Zane, who had just fallen asleep. I had to wake him up, and then we were on our way to the doctor's office, where we sat down in the waiting room.

At least, I sat down.

I did not sit down for long. Zane was his usual so-not-sick self, ricocheting off walls, running into places where he is not supposed to be, dismantling whatever looked breakable. I played goalie with him until they called his name. They brought us back to the exam room, where Zane promptly began to open doors(don't know why they don't have latches on those cabinet doors!) and climb on things like the baby scale.

Every sick kid is this hyper, right?

The doctor finally came in, before Zane had licked all the tongue depressors. My beloved son was 'hiding' underneath the exam table and would not come out. I had to crawl under there, in the dress I wore to work, and pull him out.

The doctor looked into my son's ears.

He looked at his throat. He listened to his breathing.

Then he put his hand on his chin thoughtfully and looked at me.

"He's got a cough," he said.

"Really?" I replied, probably more sarcastically than was warranted.

"It's going around," the doctor never missed a beat. I am not sure, but I think that he is used to sarcastic parents.

Zane got two stickers for his visit; one from the doctor and the other by flirting with the receptionist on our way out. I got to pay for the visit.

Nobody even offered me a sticker. I'm still bummed about that.