Superbowl Sunday for me meant nothing more than a trip with Avery to the Doctor's office. Each of her colds seems to bring on an ear infection, which she was showing telltale signs of having last night. There was ear pulling, fussiness, and a wicked cough, her nostrils two caves infested with bugar bats. Poor poor sweet baby!
Because it was the weekend, we saw the doctor on call, a gal who I just get the feeling is the office Black Sheep. The last time we dealt with her, she prescribed Prednizone, an aggressive way to combat Julia's wheeze. We did a follow up visit the day after that and our regular doctor said in retrospect, "Wonder why she thought THAT was necessary?"
Anyhoo, so Dr. Unnecessary also turns out to have these SUPER DRY HANDS which leave her skin all cracked and bloody. I was really aware of those hands and how they needed emollients. Sorry but doesn't it seem like such a situation would warrant gloves? This is my baby you are touching. When she detected not just an ear infection but a wheeze in Avery's lungs, I felt skeptical. When she mentioned the potential for E.R. visits I began to panic. Her saving grace was the sweet way she spoke to my sad child, telling her she was going to help her and calling her things like "Beautiful girl," and "precious baby." (All terms of endearment communicated warmly, but stollen straight off conversation hearts.)
To make a long story short (yes, I am actually doing that for once!) now Avery faces breathing treatments every four to six hours, as well as two doses a day for ten days of extra strength Amoxicillan. It's not the doctor's fault, but I hope that when we see our regular peditrician tomorrow he doesn't balk at the advice she gave us again. I might even leave Dr. Dryhands a note reading something like this: "Doesn't the office have samples of extra strength Eucarin you can use? "
In the meantime our nine month old is hopped up on albuterol in her Johnny Jumper and crawling like she needs a cape. Her wheeze is undetectable beneath the squeals of baby joy.