We took Cal back to the pediatrician yesterday. Essentially, he's been sick since September. I can pinpoint the day. Erin's wedding. We tried a dose about 10 days after that miserable virus, but in hindsight, he never really recovered. He sort of recovered. He'll feel okay. He'll even feel pretty good for a few days, laughing and having fun and doing all of the normal things he does, and then it's back to coughing, congestion and a even a mild fever.
He missed more school. He could have stood to have missed more. This weekend, when all he wanted to do was rest (seriously, what teenager wants that?) and was clearly coughing, congested and fighting a fever and sore throat again, Neel and I said, enough.
In hindsight, we should have done it sooner. It's easier to beat yourself up as a parent, isn't it? Cal is just so big at his doctor's office now. (I was reminded of that episode of Friends where Ross goes back to his pediatrician.) His legs are so long that he has to tuck them way under his seat when we sit in the "Sick Kids" section of the waiting room in order to allow people to pass. He's longer than the exam table and the little stairs at the end of the table, designed for preschoolers and toddlers are laughable.
But he's still sick and he's still my kid and he still needs help. So we'll try some heavy duty drugs for about three weeks but check in with the doc after two. I think this should knock it out. If so, maybe we won't go back until he's even taller, bigger, broader. I hope so.