tonsil

"...dock-ker!"

"Yes, it'll be our turn soon. Are those some interesting books?"

Plava sat among the pile of books she had pulled off the shelf and glanced down at one of them upon hearing my question.

"Dock-ker." And she was back at her reading.

The waiting room was quite full, and I was happy that most of the people around us thought she was cute, and filled the silence with smiles, little waves, and questions.

"How old is she?" One older woman asked.

"One and a half," I croaked out, putting my "Not All Bugs Need Drugs" pamphlet down and trying to hide my froggy voice.

"What a little dear." And she returned to her magazine.

Plava, much to my great joy, wasn't playing shy with any of the people around her. Her usual behaviour would have been to stand between my legs, staring shyly at the oglers, diving face first into my lap from time to time.

But she sat and enjoyed the books.

"Mrs....Kotch?"

Yes, that was me. And for the millionth time I wondered why Ryan was so against adding an "S" before the "ch" in our last name so people could say it more easily. Then I remembered, as I usually do, that there have been plenty of Koch's who've come and gone, and who've survived....and so I dismissed the thought without further contemplation. After all, my maiden name was much trickier to read...

I gathered our things, piled the books back on the shelf, grabbed Plava's hand, and tried to lead her through the people towards the hallway where the doctor would see us. That was when her shyness set in. She saw a man....one that she had to walk past.....and he was looking at her! If you know Plava, you know that's a recipe for either (a) clinging to mama's leg, or (b) stopping in her tracks and refusing to be dragged further (sort of like a stubborn puppy). After a quick tug proved ineffective, I scooped her up and walked down the hall.

We sat side by side on the paper covering that lay on the doctor's bed. I swallowed, painfully, and smiled at Plava.

"Dock-ker." She said with big, thoughtful eyes.

"Yes, the doctor is going to come in and look at Mama's mouth."

And in he came. He was an older man, quite friendly looking, and immediately asked the question, "How old is she? A year and a half? Two years old?"

"Good guess. She's a year and a half." I smiled.

....

"Well, my goodness," He said as he examined me, "You've certainly got some large tonsils for your age."

"Yeah, well, I've been growing them all my life. It's really just a hobby of mine...."

"And they certainly look infected. A bacterial infection almost certainly, which means I'll give you a prescription for some antibiotics."

I winced, but knew that of all the times my stupid tonsils have gotten infected over the last bunch of years, this was probably the time to take antibiotics. I had never seen them get this big before. And I've had a lot of tonsil infections, let me tell you. It seems like every cold I get turns into one....although I'm sure that's an exaggeration brought on by the pain.

"Do they still rip the buggers out?" I pleaded.

"Oh, tonsils? Yes, they do, but for someone in her twenties it would be quite the recovery you know....two weeks possibly."

I don't think that in my whole life I've ever felt "old", until that comment was said. It was a strange feeling. He continued to explain that children who get their tonsils removed just bounce back, but someone who's 26 (I didn't tell him that I'm actually 27) would take much longer. He was well meaning, and I laughed it off, but it occurred to me since then that I've always had a pretty good mentality about my age, and even the thought of turning 30 in a couple years doesn't phase me too much. It's a weird thought, but it doesn't bother me.

So to Save-On-Foods I went to fill the subscription, buy some salt to gargle with, and tear Plava away from her constant grabbing of items off shelves. EEP! When you're feeling sick, chasing around a toddler is tough work!

I used to laugh when people would tell me, my belly 9 months full of little Plava, that I should get my sleep now....as if sleep can be banked and cashed later when ya need it. Now, it seems almost appropriate to make the joke to you who are dreaming of babies, that you should, "get sick now". Haha.

Okay, enough. I have on more than one occasion found myself putting my foot in my mouth around new parents, saying things that I would have been so annoyed at hearing when I was in their shoes. I make every effort to hold my tongue in those moments now, to be caring and compassionate, a listening ear, rather than a mom-who's-been-there-and-has-all-the-answers-to-your-child's-troubles.

Anyway, to those of you who are expecting, or are thinking of expecting, or are thinking of thinking of expecting, I couldn't recommend it more. There's nothing like it.

But I would recommend getting the flu shot.