Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

My friend and I were having such a lovely lunch together today until I realized that my son wasn’t eating.  He said he didn’t need to go potty and yet he was barely touching his sandwich–which is not normal.  I took a good look at him, realized he was looking quiet and less than thrilled with life, and my heart sank.

“Does your mouth feel funny?”

He nodded.

Two hours later we were in the pediatrician’s office, where (despite no other symptoms–yet) he had his THIRD positive strep test in six weeks.  Our doctor spent some time considering before deciding to try him on an antibiotic meant to treat a strep carrier rather than someone with active strep.  I made my routine call to the pharmacy on my way out–my son’s doctor just sent in a prescription, just wanted to make sure it was received and it’s being filled–only to be told that they didn’t have it.  They’d have to order it, and it would be in tomorrow, but did I realize my insurance wanted me to pay $200?  Maybe it would be cheaper in capsule form…except that my son is four.

Peachy.

I called the doctor’s office back and asked them to call it into a different pharmacy, because I was NOT waiting until tomorrow.  It took a while for them to receive the call (it was apparently the last one on their voice mail), but I eventually paid $212 (and change!) for four glass bottles of something I can’t spell.  The pharmacist at Walgreen’s looked at me as he was readying it and asked if my son had had that one before.  When I told him no, he winced.

“It smells and tastes terrible.  We can add something in to try and flavor it if you want…”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Not really, no.”

I gave him mental points for honesty and told him not to bother.  Now I get to give my obstinate, “I don’t want to take any medicine!” son 12 mL of this stuff THREE TIMES A DAY.  For TEN DAYS.

Then I get to take him back to the doctor’s for another throat swab, which he hates.  And in the meantime, my poor boy is utterly miserable.  Like, asking to go to bed at 6 o’clock miserable.

Nope, not the day I was hoping for at all.  How was YOUR day?