A 24 HOUR "BUG"

Friday started as normal as any other can when you are the father of three small boys. I headed to work before they were awake, had a pretty decent Friday scheduled and was moving through my tasks for the day like liquid. Then the call comes at 9:17 a.m. "Hi honey, Keegan's puking." First thought I have is, at least I'm not home, but am brought out of this reverie by my loving wife of 14 years as she says " I think you need to come home."

Now here's the catch, she teaches kindergarten and needs to go to work at 11:00 until 3:00. I usually get off of work around 3:00, in the winter, so I can get to practice as I also coach a high school basketball team in another small town about 12 miles away. I hear you crunching the numbers. At this point I am hoping that the sickie can still go to our friends house that watches him on Friday afternoon's. I need some additional information, so I probe trying not to sound unenthusiastic. "Does he have a fever?" This is a question I only learned to ask about a year ago, which is pretty bad considering we've witnessed a few colds the last six years with all three boys, and when it comes to diagnosing severity of colds women, or at least my wife, have an uncanny ability to know what to do, what to look for, and how to react, men (or at least me) have the theory that if you can minimize the situation with as little info. as possible you can be pretty sure the kid will "tough it out" and we can all get along with our regularly scheduled programming.

The answer is "No he doesn't have a fever but did throw up on his brother (the 5 year old) and now the five year old is gagging and can't strip fast enough. Meanwhile all the 2 year old wants to do is lay in bed and watch "Thomas"." I'm thinking, that must have been pretty funny to see but I'm still glad I am not there. My wife also informs me that the sickie doesn't want to eat anything but she will try to get him to have some breakfast in a little while, and we will see how that goes. Again I'm thinking, great, that crisis has been averted and back to work. Worst case scenario, I'll call my ever dependable mother, and she could go stay with the sickie until my wife gets home. Wrong again genius. At 10:30 my wife calls back and reports a full blown fever in progress and it would be rude and inconsiderate to take him to our friends house and infect their family. Apparently I need to race home and let her get to work, oh and he has an appointment to see the Dr. at 11:20. FINE!! I'll be there....did you say Dr. appointment? Any father of small children knows that nothing can knock the world off its axis faster than a trip to the Dr. I try to recover from the knockout punch, um.. O.K., see you in a few minutes. As I drive towards home the only thing I can see on the horizon is disaster.

I figure I will stop and get the cure all from the '70's, 7-UP and maybe the Dr. can be averted. I make the purchase and get home, my wife says he can't hold anything down, you probably don't want to give him that, bye and good luck. I swear I see her grinning as she turns and leaves, is that giggling I hear? What is she talking about? Can't hold down 7-UP? When I was a kid my mom would drop me at my grandmother's and she would get me some 7-UP, which would lead to a quick and speedy recovery. Or was it just my grandma that made me feel that way? What the heck, pour some soda in the sippie cup and let's roll, this won't be so bad.

We get to the Dr.'s office and report to the line, you know the one, the line that rips through the time and space continuum, where everything seems to take ten times longer. Finally we get to the counter and the nurse asks does he have his insurance card? Here we go, I reply, he's two, so no he left it at home with his driver's license. Is he on your card then?, she snaps. O.K. Miss Congeniality , it's on. Why yes he is, I would be glad to produce that for you. That will be $25 co-pay then you can wait over there for the Dr. Suddenly I smell something, one of those things that parents have a sixth sense for, it's like we can sense a dirty diaper in progress before the rest of the public is aware that the assault is on the way. My mind starts racing, like a rat on a ship when it notices water. I think, no problem I'll just take him in the bathroom and....CRAP (no pun intended) I forgot the diaper bag in my rush to get here on time and stand in the slow line. I am visibly shaken, I ask Miss C if we have time to run home and get the bag, to which she coldly replies the Dr. should be ready any minute. O.K. I say, I can handle it as long as you can and my son and I go sit in the lobby where I ask him, did you poop? His reply is, no just "parted". I ask are you sure you didn't poop? No, just parted dad. Whew.. at least we dodged that bullet. Excuse me sir, I need you to fill out this form, for your son. What? I see Miss C. holding a clipboard out impatiently (ironic huh?) for me. I gather it up and see the same form that I have filled out two dozen times previously for each of the three boys, need a fourth copy for your files huh? Miss C does not acknowledge this body blow, but I know it landed. I fill it out and return to the headmaster, here you go, anything else you need again? Just a glancing blow, but still the judges have to score it.

Long story short, we wait another 25 minutes before we are called back, and after he is checked out we are told it must be a "24 Hour Bug" and he should be fine by the morning. No medicine, no advice, no quick fix, just wait and see. It's times like this I think maybe I could be a Dr. after all. I gather him up and as we pass by the desk and Miss C. glances at us I say thanks for all your help. As I turn towards the door I swear I see her grin and hear a giggle...