Just What the Doctor Ordered
Recently Genevieve had another ear infection. The last time this happened she cried uncontrollably for a few days before we took her to the doctor. At the time she was really young and her only means of communication was through screaming. How were we supposed to know that non-stop crying meant ear infection? We just thought she was really cranky.
Now she knows how to speak fairly well and can get her point across. Unfortunately she didn't know that it was her ear that was hurting her. So instead of merely just screaming she became a little tyrant. She demanded to be held and then when that didn't ease the pain she demanded to be taken to a different room of the house. "Kitchen. Kitchen. KITCHEN!!!" As soon as you set foot in the kitchen she would demand to go back, "Living Room. Living ROOM! LIVING ROOOOOM!!!" This pacing from room to room went on for quite some time. It was only interrupted briefly by some animated demands for toys. None of which stopped her crying because that wasn't the problem. After two days, many frazzled nerves and a debate on whether we could still return her to the hospital we took her to the doctor.
The doctor quickly diagnosed the cause of the problem and gave us a prescription for bubble gum flavored amoxicillin. She helpfully suggested that if G wouldn't drink it we could camouflaged the flavor in some chocolate pudding. Up until this point G was wary of medicine but enjoyed her fluoride (yummy peach) and even liked when we gave her ibuprofen (yummy grape). We had high hopes for this new potentially yummy bubble gum.
After picking up the prescription and looking at the fluorescent pink sludge inside the bottle a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Though, perhaps it was a wave of nausea as I remembered many a night fighting with my mother about having to drink this vile chalky goop. Still, I had high hopes. It had been quite some time since I took this stuff; medicine had come a long way as had artificial flavorings. We poured 1 1/2 teaspoons into a cup and told Genevieve that it was "yummy bubble gum." She sniffed the cup and looked at me as if I was joking. I asked her to drink it. I tipped the cup back against her lips at which point she started squirming like mad. Yummy bubble gum my eye.
Ok. Plan B. Using a dropper. The largest dropper we could find held 1/2 a teaspoon. This was going to be a two man operation. I held her in my lap pinning her arms to her chest. Her head was firmly held in the crook of my arm. Carrie squeezed her mouth open stuck the dropper in and squeezed. G spluttered but swallowed the medicine. Genevieve began to scream. 1 down 2 to go. After dropper number two was loaded I wrestled G back into my arms. Genevieve clenched her teeth to prevent the dropper from getting in. Carrie forced her mouth open and inserted the dropper. Unfortunately the dropper was right over the tongue instead of in the side by the cheek. Instead of swallowing the medicine G managed to spit it all out. Pink goo poured out of her mouth.
Rather than torment G much longer we tried to give her some ibuprofen but she was so agitated that yummy grape wasn't so appealing anymore. Great. We had a cooperative, albeit cranky, child. Now she wouldn't take any medication. At this point we recalled the doctor's helpful advice about pudding. We quickly put the rest of the drugs into the pudding. After a quick stir the pudding had turned a sickening pink tinged beige. The smell was a horrible conglomeration of grape, bubble gum and chocolate.
"Pudding Time," I said wanly. At the call of pudding G perked up. She loves pudding. Was I about to ruin pudding for her too? She demanded that she be allowed to feed herself the pudding. Knowing that this was more than just pudding and that she has a 75% spoon-to-mouth success rate I decided to ignore this request. I dipped a spoon into the mixture and pushed it towards her mouth. She opened willingly and swallowed with a smile. "More pudding," she cried. More pudding? Was this a fluke? Had she just not noticed the discordant flavors? Did she actually like it? If it was more pudding that she wanted, more pudding she shall have. I gave her another spoonful. She had barely swallowed before she began trying to wrest the spoon from my hand to have at the dish. I quickly fed her the rest of the pudding.
Pudding time became a daily ritual. Before breakfast and after dinner she would march around shouting, "Pudding Time." She ate all her medicine with no fuss. Hopefully this trick will last.
Now she knows how to speak fairly well and can get her point across. Unfortunately she didn't know that it was her ear that was hurting her. So instead of merely just screaming she became a little tyrant. She demanded to be held and then when that didn't ease the pain she demanded to be taken to a different room of the house. "Kitchen. Kitchen. KITCHEN!!!" As soon as you set foot in the kitchen she would demand to go back, "Living Room. Living ROOM! LIVING ROOOOOM!!!" This pacing from room to room went on for quite some time. It was only interrupted briefly by some animated demands for toys. None of which stopped her crying because that wasn't the problem. After two days, many frazzled nerves and a debate on whether we could still return her to the hospital we took her to the doctor.
The doctor quickly diagnosed the cause of the problem and gave us a prescription for bubble gum flavored amoxicillin. She helpfully suggested that if G wouldn't drink it we could camouflaged the flavor in some chocolate pudding. Up until this point G was wary of medicine but enjoyed her fluoride (yummy peach) and even liked when we gave her ibuprofen (yummy grape). We had high hopes for this new potentially yummy bubble gum.
After picking up the prescription and looking at the fluorescent pink sludge inside the bottle a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Though, perhaps it was a wave of nausea as I remembered many a night fighting with my mother about having to drink this vile chalky goop. Still, I had high hopes. It had been quite some time since I took this stuff; medicine had come a long way as had artificial flavorings. We poured 1 1/2 teaspoons into a cup and told Genevieve that it was "yummy bubble gum." She sniffed the cup and looked at me as if I was joking. I asked her to drink it. I tipped the cup back against her lips at which point she started squirming like mad. Yummy bubble gum my eye.
Ok. Plan B. Using a dropper. The largest dropper we could find held 1/2 a teaspoon. This was going to be a two man operation. I held her in my lap pinning her arms to her chest. Her head was firmly held in the crook of my arm. Carrie squeezed her mouth open stuck the dropper in and squeezed. G spluttered but swallowed the medicine. Genevieve began to scream. 1 down 2 to go. After dropper number two was loaded I wrestled G back into my arms. Genevieve clenched her teeth to prevent the dropper from getting in. Carrie forced her mouth open and inserted the dropper. Unfortunately the dropper was right over the tongue instead of in the side by the cheek. Instead of swallowing the medicine G managed to spit it all out. Pink goo poured out of her mouth.
Rather than torment G much longer we tried to give her some ibuprofen but she was so agitated that yummy grape wasn't so appealing anymore. Great. We had a cooperative, albeit cranky, child. Now she wouldn't take any medication. At this point we recalled the doctor's helpful advice about pudding. We quickly put the rest of the drugs into the pudding. After a quick stir the pudding had turned a sickening pink tinged beige. The smell was a horrible conglomeration of grape, bubble gum and chocolate.
"Pudding Time," I said wanly. At the call of pudding G perked up. She loves pudding. Was I about to ruin pudding for her too? She demanded that she be allowed to feed herself the pudding. Knowing that this was more than just pudding and that she has a 75% spoon-to-mouth success rate I decided to ignore this request. I dipped a spoon into the mixture and pushed it towards her mouth. She opened willingly and swallowed with a smile. "More pudding," she cried. More pudding? Was this a fluke? Had she just not noticed the discordant flavors? Did she actually like it? If it was more pudding that she wanted, more pudding she shall have. I gave her another spoonful. She had barely swallowed before she began trying to wrest the spoon from my hand to have at the dish. I quickly fed her the rest of the pudding.
Pudding time became a daily ritual. Before breakfast and after dinner she would march around shouting, "Pudding Time." She ate all her medicine with no fuss. Hopefully this trick will last.
posted by daniel @ 9:38 PM
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