There are so many times in life when I want an Easy Button. But from what I can tell, I can only think of one actual Easy Button that exists in real life. And that, my friends, is Amoxicillin.
I could see the writing on the wall Sunday night, when my son came into the kitchen and said, "Mom, I don't feel so well." I immediately said those silly things Moms say in these situations. "I'll make you some tea," and "Put on a sweatshirt." By the next morning, the symptoms had gone into full blown sore throat-swollen glands-throbbing-headache mode, and I sighed as I looked at our family calendar scrawled with a zillion appointments and obligations for the coming week. How many of those things would be obliterated by illness? A mere 50%? Or 100%? Because while Amoxicillin is the world's Easy Button, a family member's sickness is the only real-life crystal ball. Peer down the swollen, raw throat of your family member, and you're looking at your future.
I drove him to the doctor's office the next morning. I knew better than to say this out loud, but inside my head, I looked longingly at the family bringing in a baby, all snuggled in his car seat. Years ago, I had brought my son to this very same doctor, all 5 pounds of him, for his first well baby check. And now look at him: Taller than I am, his voice a couple octaves below mine (maybe more, in light of his throat thing), looking like some strange out-of-place character superimposed over the brightly colored trucks and toys and books in the pediatrician's waiting room.
The nurse came in, followed by the doctor. Playing the part of the well-seasoned mother who practically has a medical degree by mere virtue of the number of times I've experienced childbirth, I told him confidently, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's strep."
While waiting for the test results, I charted the easiest route to the pharmacy, where I could pick up that wonderful antibiotic, pink and bubble gummy, that would take the pain away from my child's throat. If he took his first dose right away, I calculated, maybe he could go back to school tomorrow morning. While at the pharmacy, I'd pick up soup, ginger ale, and more juice.
I felt like I was on the verge of winning something big. Once we got the test results back, we could start treating the problem and our life could go back to normal in 24 hours. Maybe we'd nipped it in the bud early enough to prevent the other kids from getting strep. Where was the doctor? When would he open the door?
Finally, a nurse stuck his head in. He looked at me apologetically, and I knew.
"It's negative," he said. "No strep."
"But …" I started, my lip beginning to tremble. "What are we supposed to do?"
"Lots of fluids," he shrugged. "And rest."
The poor kid was going to have to ride this thing out without the aid of a prescription. And so would, most likely, his brother, his other brother, his sister, then finally my husband and me. I got him a warm blanket, a pillow and some movies. Then, I headed to the store to pick up juice, ginger ale and soup. I got a lot of it. Enough to feed an entire family of sick, sore throated people. Because I've seen the crystal ball, and the future looks bleak.
What I wouldn't give for an Easy Button.
