Begone, Christmas virus

Maggie has a virus. And as all moms know, what sucks about viruses is that they can't really be treated. So this one just gets to run its course somewhere within my poor, sick daughter.

Do your kids hate blood work? I mean ha-a-a-a-a-te blood work? Dr. Rodgers was so sweet when she broke the news, telling Maggie, "I'm not sure what's making you sick, so I need to do one small test which will give me more information. We're going to go down to the lab, and Valerie [I think that's her name] is going to poke your finger real fast and get a little bit of blood. And then you can have a special sticker."

I could see Maggie's face shrivel up - she'd already been worried about having her finger pricked and asked about this when we pulled into the parking lot. Luckily, I have a parenting philosophy about not making promises I can't keep, so I'd told her I didn't know, but I hoped she wouldn't. When Dr. R finished her delicate speech, Maggie immediately started crying. We had to practically drag her down the hall to the lab, and once we got there, she was screaming and poking her hands down my shirt in an effort to hide them from the lab tech. I finally had to get out of the chair and let her sit there alone (I stood in front holding her other hand, unsuccessfully trying to distract her with princess talk and ice cream promises).

Awful.

Dr. Rodgers did give me a prescription for an antibiotic, just in case. She said to give the virus until Wednesday. If Maggie is still running a fever on Wed., then we'll start the antibiotic. I think this is just to make sure she doesn't get an infection on top of the virus. Maggie is now sleeping on the couch - you know she's sick, or really sleep-deprived, when she takes a nap.

I think we might have set a new record for quick doctor's visits. Maggie's appt. was at 11:30, and even with the lab drama and waiting for the results, we were out of there in 20 minutes! I love, love, love our pediatrician's office.

I had to go to the doctor later too, for a follow-up on my ab muscle. No real news there ... I'm just supposed to continue resting it, and I'm to call her asap if I feel the ripping pain again. That doesn't seem too reassuring, but even she wasn't sure what they would do to repair the tear - have a surgeon go in and make an even bigger incision to repair an 2.5 cm tear? "Rest it, rest it, rest it," she said with a stern look on her face. "Don't try to be the martyr." And I'm taking her seriously. I do not want to have surgery.