A Visit To The Doctor

David came out of school  Wednesday afternoon, tugged on my sleeve and flopped down onto the bench.  I took one look at him and knew all was not well.  His eyes were glassy, his hair was sweaty, and he looked on the verge of tears.  I sat beside him and asked him what was wrong.  He told me he'd had a headache all day.  School dismissal is a big time for socializing, but I left Juliana with a friend and whisked him into the car where he promptly burst into tears.  This is a surefire indicator  that he (or me) has a fever.  Sure enough, when we got home his temperature was at 101.5.   I felt terrible that he'd been sick all day at school and hadn't told anyone.  (Then I thought of how guilty I would've felt if this had happened the day he went without a lunch.  That would've necessitated converting to Catholicism just to say some Hail Mary's.)

He's been sick on and off for the past two weeks with fevers and headaches.  Some days just a fever, some days just a headache, some days completely fine, some days tired and draggy.  Every time I contemplated calling the pediatrician, he'd perk up and be fine for a few days.  That afternoon I called and got an appointment for the next morning. 

He woke up with a low grade fever that day.  I got Juliana off to school and we headed to the doctor's office.  I adore my pediatrician.  He is as calm, soothing, and reasonable as they come.  My child bursting into flames in the exam room might faze him.  As I tend towards Hypochondriacal Hysteria, this makes for a good working relationship. 

I gave him a quick history of  David's last few weeks.  I made sure to mention that at one point David said his head hurt so badly that his vision got blurry.  About five minutes after telling me that, though, he was kicking a ball around the bonus room.  (In case you're wondering, I spent that five minutes "casually" race-walking downstairs to tell Ritu this development all the while mentally grabbing my purse and starting the van for the drive to the hospital.)  It turns out that Real Doctors put less stock in words like "headaches with visual disturbances" and more in how the patient looks.  My scary report paled in comparison to David running and playing. 

I love our pediatrician because he understands all of my code words.  When I talk about headaches and fevers that don't turn into any recognizable illness, he knows I am really saying B-R-A-I-N-T-U-M-O-R.  He calmly explained to me that what I was describing didn't concern him.  He pointed out that the headaches responded to Motrin and that even when David described his worst headache, he was up and playing again shortly thereafter.  Did he think I could be placated so easily?  I countered that by pointing out a mole on David's chest that I thought looked menacing.  He examined it and again saw no reason for concern.  Then he took a long time examining David, darkening the room and shining his ophthalmoscope into his eyes.  I held my breath. 

He turned the lights back and said he thought that perhaps David has just had a run of small viruses over the past few weeks.  I am sure that is entirely possible.  I know it sounds perfectly reasonable.  I responded with, "and the headache that made his vision blurry...?" in a tone that clearly meant,  "How can you possibly rule out a tumor so easily, you Quack?"  At this point, he said, he didn't see any reason to do any further testing.  He gave me a headache journal to fill out to help keep track of things like dates, level of pain, and  precipitating events.  I felt a little better.  But I couldn't resist asking in a meaningful way,  "What kinds of headaches would concern you?"  He ticked off a list: pain that doesn't respond to Motrin or Tylenol, early morning headaches that get better as the day goes on, and headaches associated with vomiting. 

Finally appeased, David chose a sticker and we left.  I'm sure the doctor took a few minutes to note: Crazy Mother, Possibly Munchausen's on David's chart.