Last Wednesday, the school popped up on my caller ID.
Now, that single occurrence used to send me dashing to the phone, freaked out and scared to death at the news on the other end. But then, I quickly realized the main reason I happen to get calls from the school is for things like, oh hey your kid only has one snow boot…again? Or, um yeah it’s school picture day did you not send the order form in today because you don’t want any photographic evidence of this important time in their lives… again? Or, your son is singing that nut or ball song again, maybe wanna have a chat with him after school… again?
I get Eazy-E calls. I GET EAZY-E CALLS.
So when my phone rang last, week, I was like, ugh yes? And they were like, Mrs. Gibbons don’t freak out, but Wyatt is in the nurses office and-
RED ALERT RED ALERT THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
This was a legitimate school phone call. Wyatt had pink eye, which in school terms apparently means “Wyatt is a Zombie, please come get him before he bites the others and everyone dies. Like, right now.”
So I threw on some clothes, rescued him from the containment room, and since I’d never dealt with pink eye before, and of course it was the day our doctor was out, I left a message with the answering service and Wyatt and I popped in to Rite Aid to check with the Pharmacist to see if there was anything over the counter that might relieve the itchy, gooey, pinky symptoms until prescription help came through.
I’ve never actually asked a pharmacist for help with stuff before, but I see them do it on the commercials all the time, so I assumed it totally happened in real life.
Hi, I just picked up my five year old from school, he has pink eye, and I was wondering if there was something I could get over the counter to hel-
Nope. Go see your doctor.
Right, yes totally, it’s just that he’s out on Wednesdays, and I left a message. He’s just miserable, so I was just looking for maybe something to give him a touch of relief.
No. Take him to his eye doctor.
Well, he’s five and he doesn’t have one yet?
Walk across the street, there’s one in the alley next to Kroger.
But, we’ve never been there before, do they normally give out prescriptions to strangers off the street?
Why wouldn’t they?
Why would they? That feels illegal…ish?
*awkward staring contest* *ugh Wyatt wins, he looks like he has the Eye of Sauron*
There’s nothing I can do.
Alright awesome, step one, get a hold of my doctor, step two, find a new fucking pharmacy.
A few hours later, after accomplishing both of those things, I had Wyatt resting comfortable on the couch, all eye-dropped up watching Netflix while I burned all his pillows and dumped hand sanitizer on every game controller and touch screen in the house.
I will be damned if any of the rest of us were going to get this crap.
Even though, how cute are pink eyes, you guys? I bet in the future, when we reach Hunger Games times, people will totally have pink eyes on purpose. Wyatt is just the Effie Trinket of his time, but whatever, right now society labels him a leper. Keep being awesome future District 12.
Except the next morning, Gigi woke up all…
And then I died.
By Sunday night, Jude succumbed to the pink, and raised their conjunctivitis with sporadic high grade fevers, ear pain, and non-stop coughing filled with mucus that none of them would spit out until it got so bad, they just threw up the gooey snot everywhere.
Antibiotics and steroids and eye drops to treat respiratory infections, double ear infections and rabid pink eye. It’s like my kids went dumpster diving in the medical waste dumpster behind a hospital.
I feel like I haven’t slept for a week, and I’m surviving on pure adrenaline and grain alcohol. I’m so exhausted, Andy offered to “handle” dinner the other night and brought home a bag of fries and those McDonald’s McFish Bites, and like, I ate them without divorcing him or anything. They tasted melancholy; like the ping-pong game at the county fair.
I feel like you should win something if all your kids are sick at the same time, I mean, it’s probably written into Obamacare somewhere, but like, if your whole house is sick, you get affordable medicine plus a box full of Alpaca sweaters and that one Disney movie your kid totally wants to see, but is locked in the pretend “Disney Vault.”
Because, if having one sick kid is hard, having three sick kids is like standing in the middle of quick sand, and then some asshole gives you a piano to hold. That totally equals weird llama clothes and non-pirated Little Mermaid.