A penny earned

On Saturday her fever begins. 104. Sometimes higher.

Sunday, we alternate medicines. The fever persists throughout the day and night.

Early Monday morning I call the doctor. "We want to see her," they say. "Right away," I reply.

Late Monday morning, she comes to me with an adult Ibuprofen in her mouth. "Yikes," I yell and search the rest of the house and find another half eaten pill in the hallway. I call poison control. "She'd have to eat 12 before we'd be concerned," they say. Whew.

Early Monday afternoon we wait two hours at the doctor. She has an ear infection and antibiotics aren't working. They say she needs a shot every day for the next three days. I hold her down. They shoot. She screams.

Tuesday she wakes up with a rash all over (and diarrhea). We go into the doctor. They shoot. She screams.

Wednesday is more diarrhea and the rash has spread. The doctor isn't concerned. "Probably just a virus," he says. I'm sure it is, I think while wondering what other treasures this week holds. The nurses step into the room. She screams. They shoot. "It's over," I whisper in her ear.

Thursday afternoon I find a shiny, copper penny buried in poop in her diaper.

Just that kind of week, I suppose. A lot of work with little payoff. In other words, pooping pennies.