When Jacob’s school called me up today to inform me that Jacob
was coughing uncontrollably and complaining of intense belly pain, I
was skeptical to say the least. Prior to the phone call,
I hadn’t been aware that Jacob even had a cough, especially one
that would lead to debilitating stomach pain. The voice on the phone
assured me that it was real and seemed a bit surprised that I would
question my 
son’s pain. Reluctantly, I drove to the school to pick
Jacob up.
I’m not a bad mother, I swear. Just an exhausted one.
I spent all last week playing nurse maid to Benjy and Andrew, as my two darling hotheads played the ultimate game of sibling rivalry: who could run the highest fever for the longest amount of time. Benjy won, but Andrew certainly gave him an unintended run for his Motrin. It was a rough week for all of us, filled with couch rotations, cool showers and arguments over chicken noodle soup.
“I wish I was sick so I could eat chicken noodle soup too,” Jacob had cried into his hands.
As you can imagine, I was pretty excited to send a recuperated Benjy back to school yesterday. I had big plans for the rest of the week, and they did not involve any more days spent at home. Eight days of cabin fever was quite enough for me. Little did I know that Jacob and his school had a different plan.
Yesterday at about the same time as today’s unexpected phone call, the school had called to tell me that Jacob had fallen on the playground. When I started asking questions, they told me they’d have to call me back. While I was waiting for the return phone call, I checked my email. This was in my inbox:
Dear Lisa,
son’s pain. Reluctantly, I drove to the school to pick
Jacob up. I’m not a bad mother, I swear. Just an exhausted one.
I spent all last week playing nurse maid to Benjy and Andrew, as my two darling hotheads played the ultimate game of sibling rivalry: who could run the highest fever for the longest amount of time. Benjy won, but Andrew certainly gave him an unintended run for his Motrin. It was a rough week for all of us, filled with couch rotations, cool showers and arguments over chicken noodle soup.
“I wish I was sick so I could eat chicken noodle soup too,” Jacob had cried into his hands.
As you can imagine, I was pretty excited to send a recuperated Benjy back to school yesterday. I had big plans for the rest of the week, and they did not involve any more days spent at home. Eight days of cabin fever was quite enough for me. Little did I know that Jacob and his school had a different plan.
Yesterday at about the same time as today’s unexpected phone call, the school had called to tell me that Jacob had fallen on the playground. When I started asking questions, they told me they’d have to call me back. While I was waiting for the return phone call, I checked my email. This was in my inbox:
Dear Lisa,
Jacob's teachers asked me to contact you to tell you that
during recess, Jacob fell down. He is fine, but they wanted to let
you know his head hurts, and you will probably like to see him. They
ask you to please come to talk to him.
If you would like to take him to your pediatrician to be sure he is fine, please let me know so the teachers can prepare him.
I’d barely made it through the first paragraph, when I started to panic. Was he fine? Or was he concussed? Clearly if the school thought it was serious enough to call me and serious enough for me to take him to the doctor, my child must NOT be “fine”. I imagined vomiting and bleeding and a cracked skull. Why had I asked any questions? Why wasn’t I already breaking every Mexican traffic law to get my baby to a hospital in the U.S.?
When the phone rang again, I snatched it off the table and answered it with trembling hands. The pleasant voice on the other end was reassuring. She had spoken with Jacob herself, and he was fine. He had told her his head did not hurt. I thanked her and mumbled something about telling him to drink more water before I hung up.
Jacob had barely crossed our threshold before my inspection began that afternoon. I studied his face carefully, looking for bruises or blood shot eyes. Surely, there had to be some sign of the head trauma the school had called to report.
He looked at me incredulously as I rubbed his scalp in search of knots. “What are you doing?”
“The school said you fell down today,” I explained. “They called to tell me that your head was hurting.”
Jacob was quiet for a moment, as if considering this. Oh no, I thought, he has amnesia too! He can’t even remember what happened to him today.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “That wasn’t me. That was some other kid.”
So, see. My skepticism is not without cause. And as for Jacob’s incapacitating cough, it only makes an appearance when mentioned.
Some kids will do anything for chicken noodle soup.
If you would like to take him to your pediatrician to be sure he is fine, please let me know so the teachers can prepare him.
I’d barely made it through the first paragraph, when I started to panic. Was he fine? Or was he concussed? Clearly if the school thought it was serious enough to call me and serious enough for me to take him to the doctor, my child must NOT be “fine”. I imagined vomiting and bleeding and a cracked skull. Why had I asked any questions? Why wasn’t I already breaking every Mexican traffic law to get my baby to a hospital in the U.S.?
When the phone rang again, I snatched it off the table and answered it with trembling hands. The pleasant voice on the other end was reassuring. She had spoken with Jacob herself, and he was fine. He had told her his head did not hurt. I thanked her and mumbled something about telling him to drink more water before I hung up.
Jacob had barely crossed our threshold before my inspection began that afternoon. I studied his face carefully, looking for bruises or blood shot eyes. Surely, there had to be some sign of the head trauma the school had called to report.
He looked at me incredulously as I rubbed his scalp in search of knots. “What are you doing?”
“The school said you fell down today,” I explained. “They called to tell me that your head was hurting.”
Jacob was quiet for a moment, as if considering this. Oh no, I thought, he has amnesia too! He can’t even remember what happened to him today.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “That wasn’t me. That was some other kid.”
So, see. My skepticism is not without cause. And as for Jacob’s incapacitating cough, it only makes an appearance when mentioned.
Some kids will do anything for chicken noodle soup.
Your blog is linked in the latest FS BRU!
ReplyDeletehttp://theperlmanupdate.blogspot.com/2012/02/its-barf-fest-here-with-latest-fs-bru.html
I had a kid who went to the nurses office so often that when he really was sick no one, not the nurse, not me, and not the pediatrician took hims seriously. It was appendicitis, and ended up perforating. GULP! All turned out well but it was scary.
ReplyDeleteOn a different not I really really miss canned chicken soup. It is the little things.
That's exactly what I'm afraid of Shannon! I made a new rule. No coming home from school unless he's bleeding, broken or passed out. I'm not sure how to add appendicitis to that list.
DeleteThank goodness there is another skeptical mother out there when the school calls about sick children! Hope his "cough" feels better with some chicken noodle soup!
ReplyDelete