I mentioned yesterday that we’ve been worried about Isabel’s stomach and by this morning we were really worried and waiting for the outcome of a stool sample I made my Mother get yesterday.
The Paediatrician’s rooms called this morning to say that the tests are back and there are no funny bugs, but to please bring Isabel in as they were also concerned about her. And to bring a urine sample.
Which I completely forgot about of course until I arrived and was asked for the sample.
Have you ever tried getting a (sick) 3 year old to pee on demand? Let me tell you, it’s not for the fainthearted. I dragged her off to the public bathrooms clutching the sample bottle and had to leave the cubicle open so I could plonk her down on the seat, go down on my knees and wedge in the little bottle at an appropriate angle. And start begging. I distinctly heard someone passing by and giggling, but I couldn’t turn around to glare at them as I was staring at my child’s vajayjay hoping for a drop of pee.
Needless to say it wasn’t very successful, so we (me) dragged our heels back to the doctor’s rooms. No, he REALLY needs a urine sample. Thankfully they have a potty in the rooms so I proceeded to engage in promises of extended use of games on my phone. And Volia! just enough drops to check that she was, in fact, not dehydrated as we feared. Such a champ.
As it turns out she probably had a bug, but because we gave her medicine to stop the squirts it apparently uhm blocked everything. Which apparently is pretty backed up anyway at their age. So we were doing the complete opposite of what we were meant to be doing. (cue accompanying guilt trip soundtrack)
After the doctor’s I took her to my Mom’s house to drop her off, still not convinced that she would be ok, but Madam was having none of it today. She’s not normally a very clingy child, but I think she just had enough of not being with Mommy or Daddy when she’s sick for the 4th day and she just cracked. She literally cried hysterically and I just couldn’t bear to leave her again. So I stayed and we cuddled on the couch for the afternoon.
So now she is pumped full of all kinds of things to make things progress a little more smoothly and we await an imminent explosion. Pardon the pun.
really full of shit full of it. Okok, I’ll stop
ps: Just curious, I’m very tempted to call the doctor that gave us the wrong diagnosis and let him know what the end of it was. What do you think? I don’t want to fight, I would just hate for someone else to go through the same as us.
pps: Here’s why I love Cape Town so much. Pure autumn gold.