It started Sunday with a small rough patch in the back of my throat. It grew a bit by Monday afternoon and I felt a bit waterery in the head. Went to the doc. Got it confirmed.
Strep. Blech. Thus I was finally admitted to the great big pharmacy database in the sky. I have my first special orange-opaque bottle with my name on a label, and some medical word with 3 “i”s, two “l”s and rhymes with “it ain’t thrillin.”
Fever hit big time by 4. I slept. At 7:30ish my temp was at 102. I stayed in bed. At about 9ish Gabby came in and crawled up beside me. She started to cuddle up, but when her back hit my bare shoulder she jumped.
GABBY: Ow, Daddy! You burned me!!!
(Pokes my shoulder with her finger)
GABBY: Daddy! You’re hot!
A gallon of Motrin and eight hours of sweaty sleep later, I felt fine.
Wednesday afternoon the wife called. Big G was at 102. So, feeling a tad guilty (I swear I didn’t so much as look at him Monday!), I took him to the doc. No strep. No ear infection. No problem. Maybe he’s teething. We’ll call in two days with the results of the strep cultures.
For the next few days Big G’s temp was like the Dow Jones – down near normal with sudden spikes. Yet they never lasted long and he never really complained. The cultures were negative. Then came Monday morning.
Big G was hot. Temp was 103. Threw up twice. Off again to the doc, this time with mom (her words – “I will tell them what tests they will run). Long story short, chest x-rays were fine. He has two ear infections. He’s on a Popeye-load of antibodies.
He was fine last evening and this morning. A little more sluggish than usual, but still all about playing “bah-wl” and crawling at the speed of might. (WALK! Darn you. WALK!)
Me? I’m fellin fine. Two more days of pills and I can kick this bottle to the trash. Hope Big G can do the same.