The Little Angel and Pharmaceutical Body Piercing

The little angel may be acquiring plastic jewelry before her time.  This morning, she woke up with icky pooey and gooey eyes.  I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that she had yet another ear infection.  I am starting to hate being right all the time.

I made an appointment for four, hoping she would have some sort of miraculous recovery.  When I arrived to pick her up from the Emerald City, her teacher informed me that the little angel had been having a horrible day.  Apparently, she also fell into the high chair and one of her pointy little teeth cut her lip.  "There was blood," the teacher said solemnly.  "Do you want me to fill out an accident report?"

While I pondered that question, I noticed the little angel was sweating like a Ren Fest actress on a hot September morning.  "Has she been sweating like this long?" I asked.  I mean, she was SOAKED in perspiration. Her hair was actually crunchy.  "Yup," said the teacher.  "Even just walking around. Sweating, sweating."

Things did not bode well.  We got in the car, the little angel still sleeping, and drove to the doc's office.  She clucked a bit as she walked in.  "This is the third time in three weeks," she said.  "I wish I didn't see you quite so often."  She peered in the little angel's ears.  "I'm so sorry," she said.  Then I knew...another 14 days of oral antibiotics, given twice a day with food. DAMN!

"You know, this makes her a candidate for tubes," she said.  "This is the fourth time in six months."  I felt my knees grow a bit faint.  "It's really easy, but there is general anesthesia."  I wondered if I could get some, too.  I'm not normally weeby about operations - I've had more than your average Joe myself, but she's so little!  What if they screw up the dosage and hit her with their best shot?  All the ridiculous mama fears began welling up and dancing in my head.  I have an extremely active imagination.

"Come back in ten days," the doctor said, folding up my chart.  "We'll make the call then." 

After that, we got the fun of getting the little angel's blood drawn to see if she has enough iron in her blood, or something like that.  The little angel shrieked like the hounds of hell as the medical-type thwacked her little finger and SQUEEZED all the blood out.  Sixteen drops - I counted every one.  But then she put a nice, big, fluffy gauze pad around the little angel's finger and taped it on.  Hours of fun! Fun to put in her mouth!  Fun to ask Mama to put in HER mouth for 30 minutes at the pharmacy!  Fun for EVERYONE.

So I brought home my battered, bruised angel and gave her the present of wiffle balls that I purchased at the drug store.  She really likes all things wiffle.  And then it was all okay.