Sick Call

What a rainy, dreary weekend we had here.  The sky has been grey and the sun has been elusive, but the rainfall has been plentiful. Instead of being frustrated because we were housebound by the weather, I was relieved. My leg has been ouchy and I needed a few days to relax so that the cuts could heal. A cold rain was the perfect excuse to take it easy, relax, and read without feeling guilty. (Okay, I felt a little guilty about not being more productive, especially considering the mountain of laundry that awaits me.)

Instead of cleaning or even working, I spent Saturday reading. I can't remember the last time I became so immersed in a book that I passed hours voraciously reading without noticing the time. I love to read, but since Robby was born it has become a rare luxury to be able to read more than two or three pages without being interrupted.  With Robby fighting off a chest infection, he was content snuggling up next to me while watching Mario Bros. videos on YouTube and dozing on and off. I hate when he is sick, but I admit that I love how he wants to cuddle with me when he isn't feeling well. He is growing up so quickly and I miss holding him!

Sunday morning it was clear that Robby was feeling worse. Since his pediatrician's office was closed, Scott and I searched for alternatives. We decided to try the Minute Clinic, a drop-in medical office that is manned by a Physician's Assistant (PA) instead of a MD. The clinic opened at 10 and we were the first in line for treatment.

The PA was so good with Robby that he immediately felt at ease with her. She asked a checklist of questions and encouraged him to answer instead of me. Despite his fever, he began to giggle when she asked him if he smoked. He denied tobacco use, but offered the following information, "I don't smoke cigarettes. But my Mom does. My Mom smokes cigarettes all the time, a lot of them."


I must be clear. I do not now nor have I ever smoked! I don't know why Robby decided to fib, but the more I denied smoking the more insistent he became. With his gap toothed crooked smile, he simply kept spinning his tale, offering specific details about my smoking. The more I denied, the more vocal he became. After bantering back and forth for a few minutes, I finally offered a firm denial and changed the subject to his cough.


We ended up leaving the clinic with a bag full of medication, a complimentary thermometer, and a variety of pamphlets detailing how to take care of the diagnosed "crackles" in his chest. During the drive home Scott asked Robby why he lied to the doctor about my smoking. He admitted that he thought it was funny. We both proceeded to lecture him for the duration of our drive about fibbing and spinning tales about other people. His being sick somewhat tempered my frustrations, but I was annoyed by his accusations.



Scott tried to convince me that the doctor believed me and not Robby. I was pretty sure that she thought I was lying. It was driving me crazy not knowing whom she believed, but I knew that it was silly to be concerned and decided to shift my focus to making Robby feel better. Still, it continued to bother me.


Finally at home, I pulled out the pamphlets to research how to care for his chest infection. Between the brochure about the antibiotics and the one about phlegm production, I discovered the answer to my nagging question. I found a brochure detailing the dangers of smoking and steps to quit. I knew she believed Robby and not me! He won!