Doctors Make Our Lives Scary

Yesterday while I was at work, I had a thought..."Y'know...Robby's cold is getting kind of bad.  I should call the doctor and see when I'm supposed to start worrying about it."  Robby had been sick for a week or so, but being a daycare kid, life is a perpetual cold, so I hadn't stressed too much.

I called, the nurse answered, and SHE panicked.  That was not good.  Merely because I answered things like, "Oh, yes, I can hear him wheezing" and "Yesterday he started holding his breath during coughing fits, and that kind of scared me."  She told me I couldn't wait until today (when I wasn't working), and needed to come in that afternoon.  Fortunately, work is pretty flexible, and I left to get the munchkin from daycare.

He was thrilled to see me because all 3 of the little boys were flipping out wanting to be fed at the same time, and there's only one Miss Laurie.  So I gave Robby his already-warmed bottle (a first for me!), she gave Isaiah his squash, and poor little Hilton just stood there in the jumperoo sticking his tongue out repeatedly and fussing. He was not cool with being the loser in the food war.

We finally go to the doctor, and they decided that he wasn't going to die.  After freaking me out.  Thanks.  They did hear a "squeak" in his lungs (which I'm not sure exactly what that means), but they had me sit there with him on a nebulizer for about 10 minutes, and then listened to him again.  Apparently, that improved things, and the doctor gave me a prescription for a bronco-dialator for the next week.  In other news?  The chunkers is 17 pounds 8 ounces.  No idea how long.  I should go find a measuring tape.

He continues to be fussy and coughing a lot, but the medicine does seem to improve things.  Hopefully he can get completely healthy for at least a week or two after this.  Would be lovely.  These are the days I hate having to use a daycare.