No sooner had we diagnosed and started treating Benjamin’s chronic, severe sinusitis, than Zachary went and dropped a twenty-pound weight on his toe. For a short time, both were on antibiotics, causing no end of double-checking every time we poured out thick pink liquid to make sure we were dosing the right child with the correct medication.
Zachary has healed nicely, and is more or less participating normally in life. We were back at the pediatrician last Monday, doing a follow-up on Benjamin, and everything seemed to be falling into place.
So, it stands to reason that Wednesday found me back at the pediatrician, wondering why Lilah’s cold had developed into intermittent fevers. “Maybe she has an ear infection?”
“Both ears look clear,” the doctor told me, moving on to listen to her chest. “But we have a bigger problem.”
“You’re going to tell me she has pneumonia.”
The doctor looked up at me. “Sure sounds like it,” she said.
One breathing treatment, three calls to the friend who had taken Benjamin home from preschool so we could get to the doctor, and one set of x-rays later, and we were back on antibiotics, this time for the toddler with pneumonia.
Now, we have been down this road with her before, and I’ve got to say I like this case better. Last time, she was two months old and spent six days in the hospital. This time, she was cleared to go swimming in three days. Nonetheless, it was a trying week, and the four-times-daily nebulizer treatments do take some time.
So, when my husband suggested he would like to head out over the weekend to an estate sale over an hour away to buy a used bandsaw and drill press, I was not particularly subtle in my reaction. My husband has a thing for tools of all kinds: hammers, levels, drills, even our manual carpet sweeper will do in a pinch. He’s a handy kind of guy, and although he hasn’t had the space to do much building in the past few years, he is chomping at the bit to get back into it. Clearly, Benjamin gets his compulsive building from his father.
Nonetheless, since J is about to enter two months of heavy travel, the kids have been making excessive use of our medical insurance*, and it was Mother’s Day weekend, I figured the man could wait to buy a bandsaw and a drill press till someone a little closer decided to sell them.
So it was that Saturday afternoon, J was at home with the boys in the yard, rather than driving over an hour to buy some used tools. He was giving a whittling demonstration, which made visions of the ER dance in my head, but I figured I had already rained on his parade once this weekend, so I kept my mouth shut and first aid supplies handy as I sat in the dining room and gave Lilah her nebulizer treatment. On the table sat J’s drill along with several of Benjamin’s toy power tools. Lilah, wriggling in my lap, started gesticulating emphatically towards the drill. I brought it over, and she clutched it to her, content to have her breathing treatment as long as she could snuggle with a Dewalt 18 volt cordless drill.
My husband has never been so proud.
* And, yes, every time I thank heaven for our medical insurance.