When I was working day shift last year, my mother in law was (and is) a true gift. We would drop both girls off in the morning, and pick them up 9 hours later, and they would be fed, spoiled, and well-cared for. You should never overestimate the comfort you receive as a working mother when you know, you just know, that the person to whom you have entrusted your babies is trustworthy and reliable. I have small complaints (that I never express) but they are all due to differences in child-raising, and she's Grandma anyway. So I feel entirely comfortable anytime they stay at Grandma's.
So this epic story starts on a Tuesday. Tuesday the youngest (15 months at that time) was peckish, didn't want to eat, and a little feverish. Well, anyone who has kids at that age knows that 15 months is prime teeth-cutting age. She already had a mouthful, but their teeth pop up in unexpectedly sometimes, so I wasn't worried - Tylenol, cold drinks, etc. and I really didn't think much of it. Kids get fevers sometimes during teething.
Thursday I get a call at work from my honey. "Mom's worried, the baby has a rash." She didn't call me, she called her son, who calls me. Why the need for the middle man? Not quite sure.
Well, rashes can pop up during teething. When I picked up the girls, I also picked up on my mother-in-law's extreme distress. "She didn't have this rash before, and she wasn't outside, it's not heat rash." I watched her wring her hands, fuss, and I mentioned that it might be Fifth's disease. "What? I've never heard of it." And she kind of looked at me like I was nuts.
"Fifth's disease. The fifth childhood illness. The five childhood disease are measles, chicken pox, mumps, german measles (rubella) and the last one, called the fifth disease, or Fifth's. There's usually nothing they can do about it, and most kids get it and don't even realize it. It's called different things, my mom calls it apple-something. Have you ever heard of something like that?" She had never heard of it, so I told her I'd take her into the doctor anyway, just in case.
So, I took her in later that night to the after-hours clinic with our doctor. Now, our doctor is a General Practitioner who used to specialize in Pediatrics. He took over our old doctor's practice, and I like him even better than the doctor who retired, because my doctor never laughs at me when I bring the kids in for stupid shit. I once took my oldest son in when he was in Kindergarten because I wanted him checked for schizophrenia. My 6 year old told me he could see colors in the air. The doctor gently told me most psychiatric problems show up in teenagers, not elementary school-age kids. Never once did he ask me if it was a rainbow the kid saw. Needless to say, the child is not schizophrenic. But I like my doctor.
My doctor was not doing after-hours that day, it was another doctor in the practice. I think it was like the first doctor ever given a medical license. I didn't quite catch his name, but he was old, complete with liver spots and wispy white hair. Methuselah? Palpatine? I can't remember. Anyway, he asked me what the problem with the 'little lady' was.
"Well, she had a fever two days ago, and it went away, and today she has a light rash. No other symptoms, and she seems happy and not fussy," I tell him.
"When did she have a fever?" I checked him for a hearing aid. Nope, didn't see one.
"Two days ago."
"And when did she get the rash?" Am I speaking in a vacuum? Fuck, I want my doctor. I hate this, repeating shit. Should I talk louder? See, this is a prime example of doctors not listening to patients.
"Today," I say, a little louder than before.
"And has she been fussy?" Ok, he's fucking with me now, right? Right? Do old people have a sense of humor? Is someone going to pop out out of the teeny bathroom and tell me I'm on Candid Camera?
"No, she's happy, not fussy at all," I say even louder. Maybe he just can't hear me. Does he read lips, I wonder?
He looks at the rash, and says, "Fifth's disease."
"I knew it!" I shout. He jumps a little. Maybe that was a little too loud.
"What?" he says. Or not.
"I figured it was Fifth's disease, I just wanted to be sure."
Now, he's looking at me like I've lost my mind. What, am I the only other person (beside Hippocrates here) who's heard of this? So he tells me a little more about it, and I tell him I'll look it up on WebMD if I have any questions. (Yes, Lazarus, there are these new-fangled contraptions called computers...) However, this man may now be my new favorite doctor, since he just made me look like I completely 'had my shit together' in front of my mother in law. (And before you think I'm either A) this super-mom, able to diagnose obscure childhood illnesses in a single glance, or B) exaggerating the story, the answer is C) I was kind of throwing out non-life-threatening answers to calm her down. I just got lucky in guessing it. But don't tell anyone.)
So I thanked the doctor and took the munchkin home. I let her dad call his mom and tell her all he knows about Fifth's Disease. Later that night, we're lying in bed, and he tells me thank you. "For what?"
"For taking her into the doctor. Mom was worried, and by taking her into the doctor, I won't have to hear about it forever." I understood this entirely, I have a mom too.
"Well, I knew all along it was Fifth's, but I'm glad your mom's mind is at ease." Who's da Mommy? Me, that's who!
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