Yesterday around 2 p.m. I noticed my breast getting a little sore. I’m prone to clogged ducts, so I began treatment–took off my bra, ibuprofen, lots of water, heat, massage.
This time, it didn’t work.
By 8 p.m., I had a big red boob, a fever, aches, and violent shivers. Oh, crap. Three kids. No husband. My minivan was in the shop. And I have the M word. The malady that strikes fear in the heart of every nursing mother. Mastitis.
I was desperate for a doctor to call me in a prescription for an antibiotic. I haven’t been to the doctor around here, and there was no way I was dragging the kids with me. Oh, and the car’s still at the shop. First I call my kids’ pediatrician. When he’s like, “Um, I’m a pediatrician…” I say it’s in the best interest of my kids for me to get better fast. He remembers that I came from Charlottesville and suggests I call my OB there. “Call now,” he says. “There’s someone on call now.”
Good suggestion. I call Labor & Delivery at UVa and get a resident on the phone, who is like, “You’re still in Virginia? I can call you in a prescription for dicloxacillin.” I take back everything bad I ever said about those residents at UVa.
So now, to pick up the prescription. I think about calling my Relief Society president, a single schoolteacher who lives down the street, but then Stephanie pops into my head. Stephanie, my former BYU roomie, had just stopped by the previous night out of the blue to chat for a while. It was so fun to see her, and with her fresh in my mind, I gave her a call at 9:50 p.m. She had just walked out of her George Mason law school class. And she said she’d pick up the prescription for me!
By 11 p.m. I had antibiotics in my system. I have been taking them and ibuprofen every 6 hours, massage, heat, lots of water. I’m still in quite a bit of pain, but the fever and chills are gone and I’m functional. t It seems as if my bout with mastitis was just another way for God to remind me how much He’s thinking of us.
Our Veteran’s Day was a good one, despite the rain and my illness. We are thinking of our Poppy and all the men and women who are serving our country.
We ended the day like this…
p.s. Best quote of the night. Megan, praying, “And bless that Mommy’s, er, bottles will feel better.” After the prayer, “I didn’t think it was appropriate to say boobs in a prayer.”