kiwords

Sophia was looking...ehm...better. But not better enough. And I was just. so. sick. of talking over her symptoms with Clay. I swear, the amount of time we have spent discussing that child's skin, the different shades it has morphed through, the textures and changes...and then for fun we move onto a comprehensive review of her diapers and the contents therein, followed by a temperament analysis that would make you weep with longing for the fast-paced excitement of tax forms.

And despite unremitting conversations between two people who are not medical professionals, we still did not have her figured out. So I called the doctor and whined at the nurse and scored myself an appointment in the much-coveted "we'll get you out JUST in time for rush hour" spot.

This time we saw Sophia's actual doctor, a man who has been our pediatrician since Max was born. I trust him, and he didn't let me down. He came in and peered at her, looked in her ears, nose, mouth. Studied her skin from head to toe. Asked me thoughtful questions. Listened to her lungs and heart and stomach and whatever else they're listening to.

Then he said, "Well, it's probably a virus, nothing we can do."

Aaaaargggh, I was thinking, why am I here again?

"But," he went on, "just in case, I'd like to take a culture of her nose, just to be sure we don't have any strep or anything growing in there. We'll have the rapid screen results tomorrow, and the longer test done by Friday, okay?"

It was okay with ME, but Sophia had other opinions about having a cotton swab stuck up her nose. She wailed, and I swear if angry baby eyes could kill, that man would be DEAD AS A DOORNAIL.

I didn't expect to hear anything from the office after that, assuming it was, after all, a virus. So how thrilled do you think I was to see their number on my caller ID this morning? HUH? GUESS.

Hey, guess what? My baby has a freaking STAPH INFECTION.

So the treatment protocol for that is thrice-daily doses of serious antibiotics, and a full and complete moratorium on Google. For the love of all that is good and right, NO GOOGLE.

And can you just imagine how much I am LOVING that first doctor who barely glanced at her on Sunday? CAN YOU? If you're thinking, I bet Kira would like to start sending Christmas cards JUST so she can pointedly NOT send that doctor one, well, I would suggest you adjust your estimation of my esteem somewhat lower. What? you say, would you like to start sending Christmas cards just so you can send him one that is MEAN and SNOTTY and not nice at all? OH NO, I say, GO SOUTH. Like, more in the range of I refuse to respond on the grounds I might incriminate myself.

But the truth is that I'm just mad at him because it's distracting from the reality of being scared for my baby. I'm tired, emotionally and physically, and I just want her to be well.

And that's about all I have to say about that.