Once I got Kevin sorted out and in a dry diaper, I settled him on the couch with a fresh bottle and Emmett the Otter. I said, “Why don’t you watch a little TV while I give Doc Tom a call?” He looked up at me and nodded. The tears had stopped by now, but he looked miserable. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks had that blotchy blush you see on babies after they’ve had a good cry. I rubbed his back and said, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
I went to the phone in Terri’s room because it had all the emergency numbers programmed and because I wanted to be out of earshot of Kevin when I made the call. After the first ring, I heard a cheerful man’s voice say, “Doctor Fisher’s office. The Doctor is in!”
“Hi,” I said, “Is this Doc Tom?”
“It is indeed and based on the caller ID, this must be the lovely and talented Carrie Sullivan and since you didn’t use the emergency number, it can’t be tooooo serious, so, how is our petit pal? ” I could picture him smiling as he said this.
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at this. “Well, that’s why I’m calling,” Then I chuckled again, “Duh” I said, “why else would I call.”
“Tell me oh my mistress of the obvious, what’s up?”
So, I filled him in on what was going on with Kevin, starting with the first time he began to wet unexpectedly. He asked a few questions, but mainly listened.
“Let me pull up his records…Okay,” he said after a moment of silence, “it sounds like he’s got a bit of a bladder infection. He used to get these a lot when he was little…well littler. He probably doesn’t remember them since the last time he was about 8 years old. Does he have a fever?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied, “I felt his forehead yesterday when he was complaining about the headache, but he felt cool.”
“Well, it might be kind of low grade. Tell ya what, check his temp. If he’s got a low grade fever, the bladder infection is probably what it is and I can prescribe some antibiotics which will clear it all up in a couple of days. Call me back when you’ve got his temp, okay?”
“Sure thing, give me a couple of minutes.”
“Oh, before you go, how’s the stress therapy going?”
“The stress therapy?”
“You know, the diapers and stuff.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you knew.”
“Terri told me before she left.”
So, I filled him in. “That sounds like it’s doing what it’s supposed to. It’s a bit unorthodox, but if it works, I’m all for it.”
I went back down to Kevin and said, “I spoke to Doc Tom and he said it sounds like you might have a bit of an infection. But, I’ve got to take your temperature to make sure. Where does your mom keep the thermometer?
Kevin thought for a moment and then said, “She keeps all that kind of stuff in the cabinet above the fridge.”
“Okay, be right back.” I went to the kitchen and pulled over a chair to stand on while I looked in the cabinet. Right in the front was a digital thermometer which I brought over to Kevin.
“Sooo, let’s see.” I said and tried to turn it on…nothing. “Hey, Kev, you know how to work this thing?”
“Let me see…Looks like the battery’s dead. I think we’ve got more in the junk drawer by the phone in the kitchen.”
Off I went again to do some rummaging through the junk drawer. It was a surprisingly neat junk drawer, but there were none of the button type batteries the thermometer used.
“Does your mom have another somewhere.”
Kevin shrugged and said, “Sorry, I really don’t know. Maybe there’s something in one of the boxes upstairs.”
Once again, I went to the attic. Thank God someone is anal about labeling things. I found more boxes of old clothes, winter clothes, baby clothes, toys, books, baby supplies. Nothing that said “medical” or “first aid.” Then I thought, maybe baby supplies and sure enough, there was a thermometer in its case in with the baby monitor and the mobile and other baby stuff.
“Great!” I said out loud to nobody but myself and headed back to Kevin.
I went into the kitchen, gave it a good washing and brought it to Kevin. “Open up!” I said. Then I realized, oops, wrong end.
“Sorry pal, this looks like its a rectal thermometer.”
“So?” he asked.
“It doesn’t go in the mouth.”
“Ear?”
“Nope.”
“Eww. Really?”
“Sorry. Let me get some vaseline.” I zipped up to the medicine chest and found a jar and a roll of toilet paper and came back down to Kevin.
“Roll over onto your tummy.” I said.
“Is this the only way?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so. Besides, after where it’s been, do you really want it in your mouth?”
“Gross…okay.” he said as he rolled over.
Then I had a thought. “Hang on for a sec.” I said as I dropped down next to him.
“Here, lie over my lap.” When he as in position, I said, “Are you comfortable?”
“I guess,” he replied.