Set the Scene

Imagine this: dinner at my house this evening. There is something that looks an awful lot like honey coming out of Bobo's ear. We'd heard there could be some drainage, but when it looks like your child's brain is melting and dripping out of his ear, well, let's just say a little discharge does not seem perfectly normal.

So, I ask Mr. Long-Suffering whether it is OK for me to call the pediatrician because it's Monday and I know our pediatrician is on-call. (I have now officially memorized the call schedule and duty roster...it's really quite sad. Some people learn baseball statistics, some people could name everyone who walked the red carpet last night at the Oscars, and I can cite which foreign-born pediatrician is working for a living on a Monday night (and every 4th weekend)). Mr. Long-Suffering said it wasn't necessary as we were warned about the possibility of some discharge, but agreed that a phone call could not hurt.

The call went something like this:

Karen: Pediatrics, this is Karen.
SarcastiCarrie: Hi Karen. My son is a patient of Dr. So-and-so. He had ear tubes put in on Wednesday by Dr. Ancient Southerner. He's still on omnicef from his last infection and he has discharge coming from one of his ears.
Karen: How many days since he started on the antibiotics?
SarcastiCarrie: 8.
Karen: When's his follow up with the ENT?
SarcastiCarrie: Thursday.
Karen: Did the ENT give him drops?
SarcastiCarrie: No.
Karen: I know you didn't say, but this is Bobo's mom, right?
SarcastiCarrie (flattered): Yes.
Karen: OK, we're phoning in a script for those ear drops right now. Regular pharmacy?
SarcastiCarrie: Yep. Thanks.

For the record, this is the first time they have ever prescribed anything over the phone, but sometimes in the office, I have them call the script in to the pharmacy instead of giving me a paper so that it will be ready by the time I drive over there (with a sick, feverish child in tow).

Never a dull moment.