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Thursday, January 24, 2013

Some Days...

...it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

Today was one of those days.

It started simply enough; just get Lizzy off to preschool, come home and work on my final paper for Class A, pick Lizzy up from school, then work on Paper for Class A in between fielding questions about My Little Pony or the state of the union or whatever Lizzy finds interesting today. Simple, right? Because I do it every day.

But we had a personal family issue that needed dealing with, so I did what I could with that, and was running a bit behind after I came back from dropping Lizzy at preschool. Didn't get much done on my paper, but that's okay; I built in time. So I went to get Lizzy at preschool. She was muddy from mid-thigh down, of course, because I specifically asked her not to get filthy today. We were on our way home from the preschool when I get the Dreaded Call.

Uh-oh.

I know that number; it's the school nurse. A zillion scenarios go through my head, but the most prevalent (because it's Abby) is that somebody gave her something to eat that had nuts concealed in it and she's on her way to the hospital. You know, because rationality is such a strong suit when it involves worry about our children.

So rather than turning to go home, Lizzy (muddy from the thigh down) and I go up the hill to the elementary school and pick Abby up from the nurse's office, take her to the doctor.

The cold sore she had on her lip has spread to her left eye lid. Looks like a cold sore, quacks like a cold sore, and probably is one, but they want to take a culture to find out if it's type A or B. Okey doke. This, however, feels like "being poked in the eyelid with a toothpick" to Abby, which makes her mother cringe.

Then it's off to the pharmacy for an oral anti-viral medication, because one cannot use the topical stuff on a cold sore on the eyelid, and we have a follow-up appointment at the ophthalmologist next week to make sure the swollen eyelid does not affect Abby's vision, and there's school and play rehearsal and gymnastics and girl scout cookie sales to schedule around, and the doctor says it's a "medium sized pill" but it's so huge it has to be cut in quarters for Abby to swallow it,  and I can't concentrate on my paper until I write it all out here, and... and...

...and the pharmacist - who is the one who figured out that my recurrent cough was probably a side effect of my medication - looked at me, clearly decided that I needed a little help finding my silver lining today, and said, "The upside is that with this broad-spectrum anti-viral medication? She's really unlikely to get the flu for the next ten days."

It worked.