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.