It was bound to happen. With illness in the house, it's only a matter of time before someone else catches it. Early this morning Lexi woke up crying that her throat hurt. When I checked her temperature, it was 102. So I dosed her up on Tylenol, turned on Kung Fu Panda downstairs (thank you Netflix) and crawled back into bed.
When we all got up this morning, she seemed fine. But, hot on the heels of my own sore throat, I wasn't convinced. So I called the doctor's office and related my tale to the friendly advice nurse, who said she thought it would be a good idea if we went ahead and had a test done, since we already had strep in the house. Thankfully our clinic is open on Saturday mornings, so we were able to get an appointment with no problem. It wasn't our doctor, but we'd seen Dr. D. before, so we were okay with that.
Dr. D. took one look at Lexi, bouncing around the room just being Lexi, and I think he pretty much made up his mind then and there that this was a case of overreactive mother, as opposed to an actual medical condition. But, nice gentleman that he is, he listened to me explain (again) why we were there and why I hadn't waited another day or two to see if she was actually sick, which is what I would have done had I not just been diagnosed with strep. He checked her over and did the dreaded swab, which I purposely did not explain to Lexi before we went. Then he said, "Well, it'll be about 10 minutes!" and left us. I could tell he was feeling pretty positive that it would be negative.
10 minutes later he came back in looking slightly dejected. "She tested positive," he said gruffly.
To his credit, when I mentioned that we might be back again in a couple of days because I had two more kids at home, he said if they showed the same symptoms to just call and they'd call in a prescription for us. Now he trusts my judgement, see?