One: So the winter crud has made it to our house at last. Four out of six of us are coughing and blowing our noses. Aside from buying softer Kleenex for them, I’m not much help. Nobody around here gets grape-flavored cough syrup. Or even tincture-of-apple-cider-vinegar. The only cough medicines I prescribe are water and honey. Good thing I have a gallon of honey from the farm sitting on my counter.
Two: Any time someone coughs, Moriah yells, “Cough in your elbow!” When we ask her to use a kind voice, she screams a sixth-grade-reading-level explanation of droplet precautions at us.
Three: Last night she (Moriah) had her choir concert, and Phoebe was hacking and coughing in the back row. I like to think that- at least during the very cool, very loud drumming portion of the show- she wasn’t disturbing anyone too much. The real bonus was that for that hour and a half, Moriah wasn’t screaming at her to cough in her elbow.
Four: I spent most of yesterday with a migraine. I’m sure it was from the stress of having to put one of my very dear patients on a 72-hour psych hold. Ugh. I will never get used to that.
Five: A very cool, very loud drum concert is not very good for a migraine.
Six: The children were even too sick to be fake Ebola patients for the hospital’s Ebola drill on Monday. I was supposed to be the fake mother of the fake children sick with fake Ebola. Cough in your elbow!
Seven: Phoebe did get one benefit out of my surgical skills: her favorite mismatched pair of gloves had a hole in the index finger. Because she doesn’t have a smartphone, she didn’t need the hold in the finger and asked if I could fix it. Voila: finger transplant.
Cough in your elbow! and visit This Ain’t the Lyceum for more 7QT.