Karma Is Not My Friend

Psst, I'm having a giveaway here. Go. Play. Enter. How is it possible that only one person has entered so far?

***

So.

On Saturday morning, I got an email from one of the parents in Mister Man's class. Apparently she'd been one of the Halloween party helpers the day before and left partway through the party with her son. Yep, he was feeling sick enough that he voluntarily left in the middle of a party. The mom wanted to let the rest of the parents know that he had swine flu and that she was really sorry and hadn't known about it before then.

No biggie. I get it. I've sent my child to school thinking he was totally healthy and then had him come home. And I know how fast the flu comes on.

A few hours later, there was a note from a parent whose child had tested positive for strep earlier that day. She noted that he had a low grade fever and a rash on his stomach but no other symptoms.

Another email arrived shortly after that one from yet another mom whose child tested positive for strep that day and who also had only a tiny fever and a rash on his bottom. She had him tested for strep against the doctor's wishes only because the boy's brother had strep earlier in the week.

And then another one arrived, apologizing for being the one who introduced strep into the classroom early in the week. Again, she noted the few symptoms, which is why it had taken her so long to get tested for strep.

I smiled and deleted the emails. My children don't get strep. I've been exposed to it hundreds of times when I was growing up and never got it once. I'm sure my wee ones have the immunity passed on. Plus, they eat well, sleep a ton (as Melisa can attest to!), take Vitamin D daily, and are good about washing their hands.

While I was at work today -- in the office, my one day a week, of course -- the school nurse called and left me a message. I needed to come pick up Mister Man because he had a low grade fever. Oh, and his right lymph node was slightly swollen. I then had two voicemails from my mom, one letting me know that my dad was on his way to pick up Mister Man and the other to let me know that my dad had him and she was at bridge and unavailable.

I sighed when I picked up the messages and called my dad. Mister Man was totally fine. He had no fever by the time he got to my parents' house and was busy playing with Legos. I said I'd call the doctor and see what they said.

After explaining the swollen lymph node and epidemic of strep and mentioning that he was also complaining of his ear hurting him, she asked that we bring him in. Her only concern was the ear hurting him, at this point. Had I not said that, they were fine waiting it out and seeing if he got any worse.

My dad was able to take him to the doctor for me, and I got a call a few hours later saying that Mister Man had -- to the shock of the doctor -- tested positive for strep. He showed no other symptoms, so apparently we caught it early.

And that smile I had earlier in the week when I deleted those emails? It is completely wiped from my face. Now I figure swine flu is next. That or Karma is coming back to bite me for saying that I'm immune to strep myself.

Whee.

Oh -- and a post script to all this fun. My parents decided to keep Mister Man at their house overnight since I have two PTO-related meetings tomorrow from 9:30 to 2:20 tomorrow, so it's easier to do that than drag Mister Man around tomorrow morning. They filled the prescription and gave him his first dose.

A half hour after giving him the first dose, my mom called to ask me a question. Isn't Mister Man allergic to amoxicillin and penicillin?

Ummm, yeah, why?

Well, that's what the prescription he had was, and we just gave him a dose about a half-hour ago.

Oh. Great. Well, apparently now we'll see if the hives he got as a baby (while admittedly being introduced to several other foods and soaps and such at the same time) were related to the amoxicillin he got or whether he truly is allergic. Tomorrow morning I'm ensuring he gets a new prescription.

Reason #632,719 why I need to quit my job.