Lily wails all the way down the hall to a tiny room that I hope is soundproof. I lay Lily down on the examining table and try to soothe her.
“Easy, girl. It’s gonna be okay. The doctor is on his way in.Herway in,” I add. “Or maybetheirway.” Even under stress, I’m trying to be woke.
“You can get the baby undressed so the doctor can have alook,” Maggie says sweetly. Then she hightails it back to the reception window. To call child protective services? I wouldn’t blame her. I’m clearly a few croutons short of a Caesar salad.
Another glitch: Sometime between the waiting room and now, Lily had an attack of diarrhea. And the diaper bag is still in the car, where the starving dogs have probably killed each other by now, fighting over the rubber pretzel. I hold Lily down with one hand and grab paper towels with the other so I can wipe the mess off her tush. Not ideal, but it’ll have to do.
A nurse comes in and gets Lily’s vital signs. Soon after, the doctor walks in. “I’m Dr. Mangan,” he says. “And this”—he glances at her chart—“must be Lily.” Stonington is a group practice with several pediatricians. This doctor has clearly never met Lily before. That’s okay. Dr. Mangan is bald, calm, and soft-spoken, and seems to be at peace with the world. He reminds me of the Dalai Lama.
“Now, what seems to be the problem, little one?” he asks her as he washes his hands.
“She’s usually such a good baby. The best,” I say. I surprise myself. Did I really say that?
Gently, he feels her belly, listens to her heart, checks her ears, nose, and throat.
“It’s an ear infection,” he says. “And from the looks of it, a pretty bad one. Has she been tugging at her ear at all?”
“Not that I noticed,” I say. I don’t add:Because I was driving like a maniac.
“Ear infections are very common in babies this age. Very painful too.”
“And the high fever?”
“Goes with the territory. I can give you something for that right now.”
“That’s great. I was so nervous.”
“Of course you were. Is this your first?” He turns and types something into a computer.
“Oh, she’s not mine,” I say. I think about that for a moment. “I mean, she’s minenow, but…”
I leave the sentence unfinished.
Dr. Mangan reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small sample bottle of Infant Tylenol, then squirts a tiny drop in Lily’s mouth. She licks her lips and looks up at him with love. So do I.
“She should be on an antibiotic. Is she allergic to penicillin?” he asks.
Oh. My. God.How should I know? “Does it say anything on the chart?” I ask.
He scans it quickly. “Hmm. No allergies listed. She had Augmentin a while back and did fine with it.”
Oh, good.
“But a drug allergy doesn’t show up the first time you’re exposed to it. It’s the second exposure that does the damage.”
“Oh?”
“The first time just alerts the body to an unknown substance. The second dose flags the immune system and tells it to attack.”
“That sounds scary.”
He smiles kindly. “Why don’t we start on the smallest possible dose and see if there are any reactions.”
“Such as?”
He rattles off a bunch of fairly mild symptoms: “Skin rash, hives, itching…”
I hold my breath. I’m waiting fordeath.
