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Amoxicillan Adventure

We blame Grandma and Bubbie. At least once a year, and frequently twice or more, I sit back and watch Matt, Evie, and my mom battle seasonal allergies and put up heroic efforts to keep sinus infections at bay. Since Matt and Evie began using neti pots, they have had some success, but I’ve still watched the trail of balled up tissues lead to a prescription for antibiotics. They tell me sinus infections are miserable and I believe them; it sure looks and sounds miserable to me.

So I’m not surprised to find Simon struggling with his sinuses, I am just surprised to see the problems hit at such a young age. After two weeks of battling ragweed and downing various combinations of Dimetapp, Zyrtec, Sudafed, and Benadryl, he clearly took a turn for the worse late this week. His coughing escalated, his mood took a nose-dive, he ran a small fever last night*, and today-in what might be the most pitiful gesture I’ve ever seen-he cried and grabbed his throat in pain after a coughing fit.

Clearly, it was time for another trip to the pediatrician. Dr. Newstadt quickly confirmed that his chest was clear, thus putting our paranoid worries about pneumonia at bay, then noted his inflamed tonsils and diagnosed a sinus infection. To quote him: “This has gone on long enough. It’s time to nip it in the bud.” We wholeheartedly concurred, and tonight Simon got his first dose of an antibiotic.**

Welcome to the family, kiddo. Maybe for your second birthday we can get you your own neti pot.

Our time at the doctors followed the now familiar pattern. Cries in the waiting room. A brief period of calm in the waiting room. Then an extended period of misery in the examination room, where Simon shrieks and thrashes during the temperature check, the weigh-in, waiting for the doctor, and the doctor’s examination. At one point, as Simon was throwing his bus against a wall and banging his head on the floor, Matt noted wryly that it was looking a bit “One Flew Over the Cookoo’s Nest” in the room.

Not to be outdone in inappropriate movie references, I then asked, while Matt and I both struggled to restrain him, when the green goo was going to fly out of Simon’s mouth. This little Exorcist joke got less funny when Dr. Newtadt checked Simon’s tonsils, and Simon projectile vomited mucus on himself, dirty dog, baby bunny, and me. Good times!

The day wasn’t all bad, though. After his three-hour nap, Simon awoke in a pretty good mood. He ate an OK dinner, snuggled on the couch with us to watch “Little Bobbie” (Our name for King of the Hill), laughed at all the punch lines, snuggled some more after the show, snuggled upstairs on the bed, guzzled lemonade, and went to bed very late but in a very good mood.

*I have no idea what his actual temperature was. I have never taken Simon’s temperature, and I was not about to try yesterday with a squirming, miserable toddler. My children’s thermometer is nothing more than a prop. Simon is too young to hold it under his tongue, and I am too chicken to even think about trying the rectal method. I can’t imagine getting him to hold still, and I can imagine all too easily his wriggling, hurting himself, or having the thing break off while it’s in him. So today I spent $50 on a thermometer that takes a forehead reading. If it’s good enough for the doctor’s office, it’s good enough for us and money well spent!

**Actually, I guess it’s his second antibiotic, as Simon was administered one in the NICU after they discovered that he had aspirated amniotic fluid. They worry about pneumonia with neonates and take a medicate first, wait for lab results later approach.

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