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The Battle Wages On

The current point distribution summary is as follows. On Friday morning we were at a dead heat. Mommy had scored a home run with her, “something is better than nothing,” insistence that Dr. Zibners secure a pediatric mask and spacer for her asthma inhaler. Never mind that inhalers don’t treat viral wheezing in babies. Mommy wanted to try. Then Dr. Zibners stole several bases and shoved dirt in Mommy’s face when she proved that fever makes us feel cruddy and no matter how Eva was acting, the only thing that mattered was how she behaved when the fever came down. But at the end of the weekend, the scoreboard is showing: Mommy 3: Dr. Zibners 1. What happened?

Here’s the abbreviated version. Eva was right proper sick. Four days of a fever that is increasing in the setting of a normal viral illness worries me. She should be getting better, not worse. I’m thinking maybe a secondary infection, such as an ear infection or pneumonia is setting in. Then Mommy pulled out the thermometer. I told her not to do it, but she stuck it in Eva’s butt before I could grab it. (1 point) 103.3. An hour after Tylenol. Illness day 4. Dr. Zibners grabbed the thermometer and threw it aside but Mommy was already on the phone to the pediatrician. (Another point for Mommy) A message was left and at that point both Mommy and Dr. Zibners agreed that the only way to feel better was to have an objective third-party opinion. So we booked the last appointment of the day, stuck Zoe with the sitter and drove across town to the hospital. Our pediatrician’s partner met us there and couldn’t have been nicer. He declared how ill Eva looked and how glad he was that we’d come. Then he pulled out the oxygen saturation machine and Dr. Zibners yelled “show me a 94!” while Mommy tried to help warm her little toes. After much to-do, we got a perfect monitor tracing with a 99% oxygen saturation, meaning that her lungs were working just as well as mine, although a little more noisily. The doc said, “Scoop and Run, lady!” and I did, back out the door and into the night, less worried, a little embarrassed and a lot glad that Mommy and Dr. Zibners had finally agreed to put their struggle aside. So to sum it up we’re calling the Friday night doctor visit a draw. The responsible thing for Dr. Zibners to do is sometimes just be the Mom. However, I’m still awarding Mommy hysteria points for the thermometer and the histrionic phone message. Dr. Zibners had better pull her act together and quick. That Mommy is one tough bird.

Dr. Lara Zibners, Apr 25, 2010

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