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Just what the doctor ordered

Yes, I do still have a child. If you have read the last month of my blogs you may be wondering since I have failed to mention much of the adorable red headed 3 year old (ACK! He’ll be 4 in 3 weeks! Where is my baby?).   

Well, the kiddo is still around and doing okay. I can’t say “well” because, he isn’t well. My poor child is sick, once again. I’m fairly certain his pediatrician sees Hoss’ name on the chart outside the door and chuckles slightly under her breath. Of course, that is after she sends in another tuition payment for her children’s private school, paid solely by my pocket book.   



Hoss is the sickest healthy child there is. I don’t want to sound like I am griping because I am so happy Hoss is in relatively good health, but I’d really rather not get weekly statements in the mail from our health insurance company. You know, the ones that remind me how much of a co-pay I paid at those appointments and then the pharmacy in addition to what I can expect to be billed by the doctor’s office.



Lucky for us, we have a $5 million maximum benefit amount. I am slightly concerned my child might hit that mark by the time he is 12. No joke, my child has accrued nearly $12, 000 in insurance payments since his birth almost 4 years ago. That’s $3,000 a year. At this rate he might as well forget thinking about going to college because Mom and Dad will have nothing left to offer. 
 



Once again, Hoss is sick with a snotty nose and cough. I’m not sure why my child is so susceptible to germs. I try to ensure he is washing his hands and using hand sanitizer often. I even wipe down the carts at the grocery before he touches them. Maybe it’s preschool, but this is his second year and he really wasn’t that sick last year. Or maybe it’s the fact that every 2 weeks we have to follow-up with one of his five doctors (yes, my child has five doctors) regarding how his latest round of antibiotics has treated the most recent infection. As soon as we leave that office my child starts sniffling or complaining of an earache. It’s almost as if every germ in the building has a thing for redheaded kids and they flock to him instantly, making him sick once again. 
 



Plus, it doesn’t help that his mother is a slight hypochondriac. Let’s just say that if your fair skinned child develops larger-than-a-freckle-or-a-mole-brown-spots on his skin, don’t google it. Even though your rational mind tells you it is just birth marks, don’t ask your nurse friends about these spots. And if you do, you better have your pediatrician’s office on speed dial and be prepared for the doctor to not even attempt to hide her smile and laugh when you explain the predicament. You can expect your child to get the worst ear infection ever the very next day that involved BLOOD coming out of his ear. The day AFTER his doctor looked in his ears and said everything looked fine. 
 



And this, my friends, is why my child better become a doctor. He needs to be able to treat his own ailments and definitely the ailments of his children. I hear hypochondria may be hereditary.

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