Burning up at Midnight (Or How I Disappoint Trekkies When They Google)

A few weeks after we told BigD I was pregnant, I opened our mailbox to a slip of paper informing me that there was a package waiting for me at the post office.

Inside the package was a copy of Dr. Spock's Baby and Childcare, a copy of What to Expect When You are Expecting and a note that said, "These two are the only books you'll need. Love, Mom."

In the days before Elliot (AKA Pickle) arrived, I read them cover to cover. I underlined things, scrawled notes in the margins and highlighted key bits for Husband to scan.

I thought I was a bit prepared.

But last night, Husband and I were downstairs visiting, with the baby moniter on low. Elliot, who has had a little sniffle for days, had been in bed for a few hours.

Around eleven, we heard him whimpering a bit, which was odd. Elliot is a LOUD baby. He rarely whimpers. He does babble and often call out, all of which usually happen at top volume.*

So I went to check on him and he was burning up, like I have never felt a baby. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks were red and he was damp all over.

This may not be frightening to more seasoned mothers, but as I am not one of those mothers**, it was frightening to me.

We took his temperature and it was right on the borderline of all the measures. Our farenheit thermometer read 101.4. Our celcius one read 38.3. He is four days shy of the six month mark.

If you believe Dr. Spock,*** "If your baby is three months old or younger, call right away for a temperature of 100.5 or higher."

And a few lines down..."As a rule, consult your doctor if your baby has a temperature of 101 or more."

Therein lies the rub.****

We have no one to call.***** We don't have a pediatrician. Not really.

We sort of do. There are very few pediatricians in the Stavanger area. There are a few on staff at the hospital and another small number that work privately. Seriously. That is it.

Early on, Elliot and I went to meet one, so we could be all acquainted when and if we needed to come and see him. And I wish I could describe this person here, but the person is a character and you might recognize this person.

Suffice to say, this person is great and Elliot loved him. And I thought this person was really nice and seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. I'd heard great things about this particular one from other expat moms who had used this person, so there you have it.

(And I wish I could tell you some of the statistics about how many pediatricians there are in the enormously wide swath of southern and western Norway where we're located. But I won't.)

But all that said, the pediatricians don't seem all that busy.

On our first visit, as we were chatting, this person said that he/she'd been to Atlanta once, to meet some business people, because he/she's come upon a business that was exactly what Norway was missing.

The second time we went to the office, was when Elliot wasn't feeling well after our travels. (After thousands of miles, he apparently caught a bug of sorts on the way home.) As we were sitting in the waiting room, a friend of ours walked through the lobby. She, who is about 30 or so years past childhood, has been seeing this person for nutrition and dietary needs.

So, as you might note, being a pediatrician is not big business in these parts.******

Most babies go to the family doctor for illnesses and to the health station for shots and growth checks, etc...

Baby health care in these parts is a tricky business. At least it is for me.

And, to make it more complicated, while we are eligible for the public healthcare, we also have private insurance through Husband's contract. So, in many case, we are fortunate to be able to pick and choose what we'd like from the many private doctors in the area. Then we pay for it, submit the bill and get reimbursed for most of it from the insurance company.

Except when it's something big and then the only choices are public.*******

My doctor, who I loved and handled all my prenatal care, was nowhere in the vincinity, most certainly not in the room or even the hospital when I gave birth.

When Elliot was just a few months old, he had a high fever in the middle of the night, so we took him to the urgent care at the hospital. He had a fever of 102, which according to Dr. Spock is a big deal. He wasn't eating, his breathing was labored and he was not his usual self, in the early early morning.

We took him the urgent care and waited and waited for about two hours. When the check-in nurse finally called us up, she took a look at our forms, where we had marked that we had a private doctor. She asked why we didn't go see her and said we should go there even if she didn't open for another 90 minutes.

Then when we asked if someone could please just help us, they put us in a back room with a thermometer and said to check it ourselves. Finally a doctor came in and said he didn't have baby sized instruments, so they sent us to the pediatric wing of the hospital, where a pediatrician did the basic tests and chalked it up to nothing, but an unexplained fever.

It was a less than satisfactory experience, so this time, because all the factors were borderline, we skipped it.

And this is not to say that the healthcare is bad or that the Norwegians are weak. Quite the contrary. No one pays much attention to the "borderline" fevers and antibiotics are not handed out unless it's extreme, but when it rains, which it does often, the children put on their weather gear and get outside to play. They sleep in their prams in the fresh air in practically any temperature. They are a hearty lot, so it just stands to reason that they are doing something right.

But still, I'd love to have my own doctor who follows Elliot through it all. Not just the shots and the growth scale,******** but one who knew every single detail and could put the whole picture together.

And one who had a nice nurse or a 24 hour help line I could call when my son is burning up at midnight.*********

________________________

*Seriously. If I were writing a book and Elliot was in it, I would write all of his dialogue in capital letters.

**I am the other kind.

***Page 699

****In a bit of etomological service-y-ness, did you know this phrase is really a bit of slightly paraphrased Shakespeare? I knew that it meant a conundrum of sorts, but who knew that it's all thanks to Wills? You're welcome.

*****I mean to say professionally. I do have the Big D, my sister, my sister-in-law and a smattering of friends, but just in a coincidence, I only got my mom for a second and then answering machines for all the rest. We're on our own in these parts.

******My friend looks fantastic, though. And, to this person's point, there is a distinct lack of eating establishments that serve awesome wings and foamy beers on platters carried by bosomy women wearing orange short shorts and nude tights.

*******PS This is not the forum to debate Obama's healthcare plan, in case you are thinking on that. I am not making any sort of statement pro or con'ing it or any nuances et. all. I haven't done enough research on it to make an informed statement. I will say that I was uninsured for many years because though I was making a really good living in New York, I couldn't afford it. That was scary and not right.

********Which is a whole other post. Norwegians are tall people. Americans are medium sized. So Elliot's numbers on the two scales are very different. I'll post about that in a few weeks after his next check up.

*********He's much much better now. Still a little hot and sniffly, but not scary.