Pleading the Fifth
A story about being misdiagnosed.
The day started okay.
I got up early to drive Uber but the child got up too early and so I kind of got stuck here to avoid a meltdown. I got her some cereal and we hung out at the kitchen table for a bit.
Breakfast was had and I snuck out of the house while she was getting dressed for school.
BW took over and got her out the door. She was fine and had no problems getting on the bus.
Easy day, right?
Yeah….No.
I was sitting in my car when the phone rang and up came the call display.
IT WAS THE SCHOOL. THE CHILD’S SCHOOL!
I know every parent has a lot of fears but one of the biggest ones is when the school calls and says your child is sick and has to come home.
So I did what every parent would do that didn’t want to have their entire day shot by picking up their child early:
I told the school they were wrong.
The school wasn’t having any of it. You see, they’ve had a bit of a breakout of fifth disease. I will let you click on the link to read all the details, but the school nurse-bless her heart - decided that this has to be what the child has and she needed to go home.
Now in her defense, the child did have a bit of red cheeks and a small rash. We’re not that parents that sends their school sick so we had no issues sending her to school because guess what: It’s our child and we know what she’s supposed to look like.
Why was she red and trashy? I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV but our guess is a lot of sun and not much sunscreen this weekend. I have a feeling that she’s allergic to something in her own sweat and it gives her rash.
I told the nurse she has excema and that’s it.
The nurse didn’t buy it. Come pick up your kid.
CRAP!
“See you in 20 minutes”, I say.
I drive across town and collect the kid and sure, she’s a little rashy but she’s fine.
On the way to school I call the doctor and get an appointment 2 hours later (pretty good time I thought) so we can come to grips with what this is.
In the meantime, BW has had some issues with her recent surgery and she’s been on the horn with the doctors and there’s a prescription waiting. I drop the child off at home and of course, she thinks this is a holiday and she can watch her tablet.
“Maybe later”, I say as I head out the door. The child sighs and picks up a book.
I get the meds for BW at the drugstore and get her going with her first dose.
Okay. I have a half hour to make lunch and get the child out the door.
Grilled cheese sandwiches all around. While I am making these sandwiches the school calls again but this time It’s the occupational therapist for the child and she wants to chat about the child’s progress.
Um…ya. Hang on, you can talk to BW. Spoiler: the child is more than fine and doesn’t need to continue OT next school year. so, yay.
The supposedly sick child hoovers an entire grilled cheese and a glass of milk. Just for giggles when we’re on the way out the door, I check her temperature and it’s perfectly normal.
Let’s go!
Now we drive 25 minutes across town because the local office near us decided that it’s not worth it to be open anymore so now we schlep our sick child across town.
I’ve pre checked in while the grilled cheese were grilling so one would think we are good to go when we arrive, but now we have to check in again at the kiosk with the same information they already have. (sigh) Because I already checked in online.
The good news is that they took us right away and we didn’t have to wait long.
The nurse takes us in,weighs her (41lbs!) and then says the doc will be in soon.
“What can we do?”, the child asks?
“Tell me a story”, she says.
On the fly, I make up a story about a hyena, a snake, a beaver and a zebra that walk a long time over Africa and then have to cross a river to get to the Lion’s house for a sleepover.
She loved it. I’m a good story teller.
The Doc comes in just in time because I was kind of running out of animals for my story. She asks why we’re here and I tell her how the school is worried about fifth disease.
The Doc takes a look and says “she doesn't have 5th disease”. She said that even if she did have it, it’s not harmful other than the kids get red cheeks and then it passes. The only warning was that if she was really sick and feverish she shouldn’t be around pregnant women, but if she was that sick we would keep her home.
We have the all clear from the Doc for her to go back to school. The doc asked if she wanted the note so she could go back to school today but I said, no tomorrow is fine.
Why? Because if we’re at the Doctors and we do well - we get a treat after. They don’t hand out lollipops at the doctors anymore so I have to find my own. I blame the tariffs.
On the way out, I ask the child: Ice Cream or Donuts?
“Ice cream”, she says.
Ice cream it is:
We ended up ordering a “Mexican Sundae”, which I thought was not the most politically correct name, but whatever.
We made a deal: I would eat the peanuts and she would eat the chocolate and ice cream part.
We’re a great team.
We come home and because we’re a family we brought mommy an ice cream too because she wasn’t feeling well, and ice cream makes everything better.
By this time, it’s about 2pm and BW is upstairs asleep and the child is on her tablet because technically it’s a no school day - thanks to the school nurse, so with everybody occupied , I take a nap. I’ve been up since six solving problems - don’t judge me.
Post nap, I clean both bathrooms and mop the floors and get dinner ready. Thank God for Blue Apron.
While I am doing the dishes and cleaning up the child gets bored and finds some papers and a pen. I’m busy at the sink so I really don’t pay much attention:
“Hey Dad - How to you spell the word right”
“WRITE or RIGHT?” I ask.
“When you have the right answer, she replies.
OH.
R-I-G-H-T, I tell her.
Later I go to clean up the mess after I get her down in bed, and only then do I see that she had been doing a crossword puzzle!
And that’s the theme for today:
I WAS RIGHT.
She’s fine. (and kind of scary smart too)
Until next time,
TH and Co.