I’m not one of those moms who rushes to the doctor every time her children are sick. I tend to be one of those who treat their symptoms at home first with chicken noodle soup, lots of water, warm blankets and resting on the couch. So when my oldest son texted me to pick him up early from his friend’s house because he wasn’t feeling good, I checked the cupboard for the soup and headed to pick him up.
Once we were home, I could tell this might be the start of the dreaded flu and didn’t want to take any chances and try the “wait and let’s see how you feel in the morning” method. For the last three months, he’s been practicing for a musical and opening night was five days away. He didn't want to be sick and miss it. I called the doctor and when they said their after hours clinic was booked, we opted to try the urgent care office one door down the hallway from our doctor’s office.
We were told the wait time was about an hour. We chose to wait. The receptionist asked him to wear a surgical mask and have a seat. I pointed to the corner away from the coughing, sneezing, oh please wipe your kid’s nose group.
Within a few minutes of surveying the waiting room of illnesses, we began to feel as if we were on the island of misfit toys. You know the island, where everyone’s clothes don’t match, the children have on their spaghetti stained smiles, and there is a “help me get off this island” kind of look in everyone’s eyes.
In the right corner was a woman and daughter both in surgical masks laughing and chatting, while the mother held her rubber gloved hand upright in a Queen Elizabeth type wave the entire time. Across from her was a father with his 20 year-old son, who couldn’t stop pulling Kleenexes out of the box on the receptionist’s desk and wiping his goopy eye. Down the row from us was a family of five, each engaged in their electronic devices, who obviously made a wrong turn into the waiting room because no one even had a sniffle. Directly in front of us was a young family complete with the deluxe size diaper bag filled with gummy bears and sour worms, dvd player (playing “Beauty and the Beast”), granola bars (conveniently left all over the table and floor), water bottles and pacifiers and books for the entire family. (They obviously had been here before and knew it wasn’t going to be a 15-minute wait.) The mother to my right held her daughter who moaned and cried in discomfort while she was texting someone and her healthy daughter continued to play at the water fountain. And, minutes before they called our name, a woman was wheeled out in a wheel chair with her leg sporting a new cast of some sort laughing and chatting on the phone about the dinner that was in the oven.
It was a sight for sure. We waited with the other islanders for over an hour and then another thirty minutes on the other side of the island waiting for his flu test results. Negative. We were thankful to be released and rescued off the island with our discharge papers in hand. I guess this is why I like to try and treat them at home first. Why expose them to the island of misfit toys if you don’t have to? Right? He’s now resting under the electric blanket, and being waiting on hand and foot to help expedite a speedy recovery from a virus of some sort. I must say, there’s something to be said about the comforts of your own island.
FEBRUARY VOCAB CHALLENGE 101
Day 10
fluke: (noun) The flat, triangular piece at the end of an arm of an anchor.
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