Sunday Mark was sick, or was he? We never know with him. He was fine at church and then walked around the neighborhood gathering offerings with another deacon and got cold.
It was like Victorian days when getting "a chill" would make you sick. We went to see my grandma and help her box up her Christmas decorations and we left him home.
When we got home he had a fever and hadn't eaten anything all day. OK, so he
was sick. The next morning, his fever was gone but he didn't feel up to school. And he still wouldn't eat. I decided to take the opportunity to run some of my errands. First I went to Target. The store employee at the register was probably in her twenties. She was scanning my purchases and said, "Last week I had the most random thought. It was so random I didn't tell anyone. I thought what if I were pregnant and working and my water broke? I mean, what would I do? Tell my manager?"
I wondered silently why last week it was too random to tell anyone and suddenly, it was just perfect to tell me.
She seemed to want a response though, so I said, "It's good to be prepared for eventualities."
"Yeah," she said appreciatively.
My next stop was Costco. I'm very grateful there is Costco in the world and I'm grateful there is one close to me, but I don't like going to Costco. I had avoided it since the week before Christmas. I had cobbled together a milk supply from the grocery store, but otherwise we were in dire need of a Costco run. I'm pretty sure I bought the entire store so I'm sorry if you went to Costco in Lehi Monday afternoon and the shelves were all bare.
I took my purchases home and checked on Mark. His fever was back and he was
sick. Still hadn't eaten and wouldn't drink much. I decided I needed to take him to the doctor.
I quickly stuffed all the perishables in the refrigerator and freezer and left everything else on the kitchen table. Then I set about finding a doctor that would take both our insurance and new patients. The recommendation I got from Melanee would not take our insurance so I hunted on. The insurance website was extremely frustrating and slow and causing me anger management problems. (This is a problem of living in the digital age. Occasionally when information
isn't instantaneous, it feels like a crime has been committed.)
I finally gave up on the website altogether and called them. A very verbose man, reading from a rambling script was able to eventually find me a doctor. Then he kept asking, "Are you satisfied with the level of service this phone call provided?"
Yes. It was peachy.
About then Braeden and his friend Brian came home. They burst into the kitchen and saw the contents of Costco on the table and both stopped in their tracks.
"Whoa," Braeden said, "Do you need some help?"
"Yes!" I said, "Will you get Emma after her tech crew meeting so I can take Mark to the walk in clinic?"
"Sorry," Braeden said, "Her meeting ends when play practice starts."
So instead of helping me, the boys helped themselves to a snack.
After I had retrieved Emma and packed my shivering feverish boy in the van, we headed to the walk in clinic.
What wonders awaited us there in the waiting room! Three adults were there--one appeared to be the daughter of the other two--with a little boy about 4 or 5 years old who had the most elaborate bedhead I'd ever seen. It was a work of art. The adults completely ignored the boy and then eventually (like the time he'd pulled the string repeatedly on one of those toys that says, "the cow says moooooo" for about five minutes straight) they'd yell at him to be quiet. Two women were talking loudly to each other and then on their cell phones and one of them was clearly annoyed with the other one and kept sighing deeply and rolling her eyes. Two other women were there with masks over their faces. One of them started doing stretches and deep knee bends. There was one other guy--a little older than Braeden--and he was talking into his cell phone, outlining all the dreaded symptoms he had. Mark had his hood pulled up on his sweatshirt and kept muttering under his breath that he should have just stayed home.
He was
cranky.
We finally got called into the back. The doctor asked Mark if he'd missed school and Mark said he was homeschooled. The doctor got excited and said his wife homeschooled their children. He asked me if I was a part of the local home school group. I said no, we'd recently moved from the Seattle area.
His jaw dropped.
"People home school in Seattle?"
"Not anymore," I said, "Not since we moved."
(I didn't really say that. I only say a small portion of what pops into my head in an effort to be more socially acceptable.)
I very much liked the doctor though and I think we should make him our new doctor. I liked the way he listened.
We went away with a strep throat diagnosis and a prescription to fill which allowed us the opportunity to find a pharmacy.
I guess it all goes to show, you never know how your day will unfold.
